Julia knew their history. Knew what it had cost them to get to this point. It was another reason this place mattered. Another reason it felt like opening a door she’d thought she’d slammed shut.
“What can we do to lure you back?” Dev’s gaze moved over the buffet before settling on her. “To this side of the line.”
Lightly said. Not lightly meant.
Julia straightened, suddenly aware of the invisible line between them. Not the buffet table but the life she’d stepped away from. Dev and Cari belonged here. She used to. Now, she wasn’t sure where she fit.
“I’m not sure the lifestyle is for me anymore, Master Dev.” The words didn’t sit right, even as she said them. Not because they weren’t true. Because they were only half the truth.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, genuine disappointment laced in his voice. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
There was no pressure or persuasion, just concern. That was his way.
Cari’s expression softened, worry present, but she masked it with a small smile.
Julia opened her mouth, not entirely sure what she was going to say.
“Hate to interrupt,” Tyra said, appearing at her elbow, “but there’s a snag.”
Relief hit. She’d never been a coward, but she took the out.
“Of course,” Julia said, already moving. “Please excuse me.”
It was a minor problem, easily solved and perfectly timed.
Service ended at midnight. Julia didn’t linger a minute after.
“Cleanup’s yours,” she told the staff. “Make sure inventory’s done before you leave. Tomorrow’s order day.”
“Got it.”
“Night, Jules.”
“There’s cake left,” someone added. “Emily’s lemon mascarpone.”
Her favorite, but not tonight.
“Take it home,” she said, already at the door. She wanted out before someone else stopped her. Before someone else asked questions she didn’t know how to answer.
She stepped outside, but even as quick as she was, it wasn’t quick enough.
“Stay,” Emily called to her from the edge of the patio, where the lights ended and the shadows began. “Have a drink. Talk to the girls. You’ve been on since nine a.m. You’ve earned it.”
For a fleeting moment, Julia was tempted. The familiar comfort of the people she cared about tugged at her. But out in the torch-lit yard, beyond the patio, he was there. Leland. Towering over everyone else, his orange armband a stark contrast to his dark shirt. Alert, focused, monitoring the playground.
Her first thought: at least he wasn’t with anyone. Her second: anger at herself for caring. He wasn’t her business, no matter how much she wished he was.
She looked away. “You’re right. It has been a long day. I just want to go home.”
Emily didn’t argue or try to stop her. But her eyes held a sadness that made her chest ache. Leaving Leland and the Pointe behind meant leaving the friends she’d made here, too. With a heavy heart, Julia slipped into the shadows of the pathway and didn’t look back.
***
From his vantage point at the top of the rise near the pool, he could see the whole playground. Two couples were making use of the suspension rigging in the trees, another pair had taken over the saucer swing, and a group of four had gotten creative with the inflatable duck and swan in the pool. His gaze shifted between them, ever watchful for signs of trouble.
Nothing was out of line.
For weeks, this had become his routine—monitoring instead of playing. While it kept his mind occupied during his four-hour shifts, he invariably found himself scanning for a flash of honey blonde that never appeared. He told himself it was concern. If only it were that simple.
