His brow furrowed like I’d asked him in another language. “I work. I enjoy that.”
“That’s not an answer, Julian. Nobody just works.”
“I do.”
I shook my head. “Not buying it.”
He hesitated, then said, “I coach youth football. But of course you already know that.” He gave me a stern look.
I blushed and cleared my throat. “I thought we were past that.” I smiled sheepishly.
“We are.”
“Okay, and that’s it?”
“I run. Ten miles every morning. Completed a few marathons.” He said it like he was giving a weather report.
I let out a low whistle. “Okay, Mr. Marathon. Impressive. I run too.”
That earned me a doubtful look, and I made an offended face back at him. “What? You think I can’t run?”
“Didn’t say that.” His voice dropped. “But jogging around the block isn’t the same as training.”
“Iknowthe difference, Julian,” I shot back. “I took up running after my husband...” The rest stayed stuck in my throat. “It helps me clear my mind and think. The quiet. The space. I enjoy it. I’ve done two half marathons myself, if you must know.”
His expression shifted and he nodded slowly.
“Anyway.” I took another bite of my sandwich. “Hit me up. Maybe we can run together sometime. See if I can keep pace withTheJulian Wade.”
For a moment, he looked almost startled. Then he recovered and nodded. “If you want.”
I grinned, satisfied I’d cracked his composure just a little. “Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down.”
He didn’t answer, just picked up his sandwich, but I caught another faint curve at the corner of his mouth, there and gone in a second.
Four in the span of an hour, that’s gotta be a record.I thought, pleased with myself.
Wait. Why was I counting this man's smiles?
I caught myself cataloguing him. His build. His skin. His jawline. The forearms fighting to break free when took off his jacket and rolled his sleeves back. The way his voice dropped even deeper when he saidtraininglike it was a complete sentence. Julian was a beautiful man. I was not blind.
It also didn't matter, for three airtight reasons. One: he was practically family. Raschad was married his sister, which made Julian something like a brother-in-law twice removed, and family was the one thing in my life that still worked. Two: I wasn't in the market. I had a son to settle, a job to find, and a life to rebuild. Men were not on that list. And three, the reason that made the first two easy: a man like Julian had his pick, and the whole town knew it. I’ hadn’t been here long and that fact was abundantly clear. Whatever Julian’s type was, a widow with a little boy and a tragedy attached to her name wasn't it.
Which was exactly why I could breathe around him. He didn't require a performance. Around Julian Wade, of all people, I was finding that I got to just be myself. Whoever she was becoming these days.
That part was this town, honestly. I'd felt it in the summer when we visited. Some old version of me lifting her head. In Jersey, I wasThe Corporate Cassanova’swidow. That was a full-time job with mandatory overtime, and it was never going to end there. In Lennox Falls, I was just Raschad's sister. Micah's mom. The new woman in town. And every day I felt a little more like the woman I'd been before I learned to be small. She had opinions. She teased CEOs over turkey sandwiches. She took up space.
I'd missed her.
julian
Three days had passedbefore Alyssa stormed into my office. I assumed she'd accept my help gracefully, or at least privately. Should've known better. I was starting to learn that Alyssa didn't do anything quietly.
I'd just finished reviewing a new artist contract with Zion when my assistant's voice came through the intercom, flustered: “Mr. Wade, there is a Ms. Carter here to?—”
My door flew open before she could finish. Alyssa showed up at WadeHouse like she was marching into court. Chin high, eyes blazing, stride sharp enough to cut marble.
She waltzed past Glory at my door, then passed Zion, giving him a quick nod of acknowledgment, before she stopped right in front of my desk, staring me down. Zion quietly slipped out to join Glory outside my door.
