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I mutter a thanks, embarrassed by my clumsiness and the situation. Keeping my gaze on anything other than his unfairly perceptive eyes, I take my coffee back with a concerted effort not to let my hand touch his.
“We've had enough setbacks without our interior designer losing her hand, don’t you think?”
Julian's joke falls flat, a poor attempt to ease the tension between us.
"Right," I reply, forcing a tight smile as I shift both hands to my cup. The awkwardness lingers, an uninvited shadow under the morning sun.
Julian, still holding his own coffee, seems reluctant to end our brief encounter. "So, what are you up to today?"
I shrug, a little sharper than I intend. "I don't know. I'm not exactly great with last minute changes." I don't elaborate, not really wanting to dive into my feelings of frustration and disarray.
Julian nods, his expression turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that.” It's a normal response, but it feels intimate, bringing memories of the old days back the surface.
He still doesn't leave. Does he want to hang out or something? Just twelve hours ago, Julian made it clear that what was brewing between us was too complicated, too risky to pursue given our respective responsibilities. I don’t appreciate him giving me mixed signals.
"Why are you talking to me?" The words slip out fiercely, I’m unable to control my bitterness stemming from his rejection. "You made it pretty clear last night that you're not interested. So why are you trying to chat like nothing happened?"
The question hangs between us, stark and raw. Julian’s face registers surprise, then understanding, as if he hadn’t realized how his actions could be perceived.
"I—You're right," he admits after a moment, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "I did say that I don't think it's a good idea. And I haven't changed my mind. But I’m not heartless. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t see you, that I don’t...” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and making my heart beat even more erratically. “It’s hard."
I nod, even as I feel like I'm about to throw up. "It's hard for me too. We have to work together. Knowing I could bump into you at any second—it’s driving me nuts. So, we need to keep things professional.”
Julian looks at me, one corner of his mouth tucking up into a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. “That's what I was trying to do. Before you jumped down my throat.”
A fresh round of embarrassment creeps along my skin, heating my cheeks and ears. He's right. He was just being nice. God, why can't I control myself around him?
The simple, act of parting ways feels like an insurmountable task, laden with unspoken words and stifled emotions. I turn to leave, each step I take away from Julian adds weight to the hollow space inside my chest.
Despite my resolve to keep things professional, my mind betrays me, replaying the press of his lips against mine, the warmth of his hands—images that stir a longing I'm desperate to quell.
The conflict is maddening. Part of me, a reckless, hopeful part, yearns to turn back, to bridge the distance with a kiss that might make us forget the reasons we can't be together. My thoughts continue to spin, weaving fantasies that sear with intensity. The rough texture of his stubble against my skin, the strength of his arms enveloping me, the taste of him filling my breath. Each imagined sensation is vivid, almost tangible, igniting a fire within me that I struggle to suppress.
But I won't. I can't ruin the fragile boundaries we've both agreed to uphold. The reality of our situations—his responsibilities to Aria, my own tangled heart—anchors my feet, even if my heart wants to rebel.
"I'll see you at work, once the building is open again," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. The words are a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of my impulsiveness. "Maybe we should keep our distance unless it's necessary. It's better that way."
Julian's expression is a mix of understanding and something else I can't quite read. "Agreed," he responds softly, his voice low and rough. He stands there, a figure literally marked by his trials, watching after me as I walk away.
With each step, the emotional turmoil churns stronger. My heart battles my head, love against logic, desire against duty. By the time I reach my car, a bitter thought surfaces, unbidden but clear: maybe I'm just not meant for romance. Maybe the kind of love I yearn for is nothing more than a fantasy.
The drive home is pure muscle memory, my attention sucked up by existential sadness. Maybe I'm just not kind of woman that men fight for. The loneliness feels deeper now, Julian’s rejection cutting deeper into the unhealed wound that Hayden carved into me. A wound that feels as if it might not ever heal.
CHAPTER 12
JULIAN
Aweek drags by, each day stretching longer than the last. Dread and anticipation mount as the reopening of the Langford Building draws near.
Finally, relief comes early one morning when I'm jolted awake by a phone call. It's one of the detectives that’s been investigating the incidents at the building. With a neutral, disinterested voice, he informs me that the building has been cleared for us to reenter and continue our work, but he offers nothing else to ease my anxiety.
"We're making progress on the investigation, Mr. Rodriguez, but unfortunately, I can't disclose any specific leads at this time," he explains. It's good to know they haven't given up, but the lack of concrete information is unsettling.
When my crew and I arrive at the site, the whole energy of the group has changed from the easy comradery we usually enjoy. The mood is tense, the men talking in hushed tones as they fidget uncomfortably. There's an overlying sense of urgency that covers the entire site and presses down on us almost tangibly.
Gabriel stands away from the crew, his usually impassive demeanor replaced with visible stress. He’s clearly concerned about the delays and the impact on our timeline, just as I am.
"We need to push hard to make up for lost time," I encourage the team, echoing Gabriel's unspoken worries. "I know it’s been tough, but let’s pull together and get back on track."
