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“Sure. Thanks.”
Our conversation is stilted. Awkward. I wish we could go back to how things were, not just the previous week, but all those years ago.
As Natalie finally turns to leave, I watch her walk away, more determined than ever to find a balance that could help both our projects—and maybe, just maybe, allow us to reach some point of mature friendship.
As I head to my car, my mind still churns with thoughts of her…and project timelines and everything else that's crowding my plate. Striding out to the parking lot, I spot Gabriel standing near where the other guys usually gather. He’s on his phone, and even from a distance, his conversation seems intense, his body language tight.
“Fine, Mason. Whatever. See you Sunday.”
As I approach, Gabriel's call ends abruptly, and he pockets his phone with a harsh movement.
"Everything okay?" I ask casually, trying not to sound too probing.
Gabriel looks up, his usual easy smile appearing. "Yeah, all good. Just a friend being an asshole. Honestly, it’s not unexpected." His tone is nonchalant, but the look in his eyes tells me that whatever just happened has rattled him.
I nod, trying to keep the conversation light and not get involved in his personal business. "I hope all the chaos around here hasn’t caused you any problems," I add, gesturing vaguely back towards the building, symbolic of the recent troubles we've had.
"Not at all," Gabriel assures me, his smile broadening a bit. "It’s been interesting, to say the least. Keeps the job from getting boring, right?" His laugh is easy, more genuine this time.
I laugh in return, appreciating his effort to keep things upbeat. "That’s one way to look at it. Thanks for hanging in there. Having a solid crew makes all the difference."
Gabriel nods, his gaze shifting briefly back to his phone before meeting mine again. "I'm here for the long haul, Julian. Just let me know what you need."
As we part ways and I head to my car, the name Mason echoes in my mind. I knew a Mason once, too—back in the military. We were good friends, close enough to share personal stories and back each other up in tight situations.
It's funny how the most innocent coincidences can send you back in time, waking up old memories and making them feel as real as if you were experiences them again right now. Hearing the name Mason brings back an old, familiar stutter of hurt.
Mason never tried contacting me after I left the military. Never returned my attempts to reach him. And never told me why. Yet another friend I lost to time and distance.
Sitting in my car, I turn the key in the ignition but pause before pulling out. The recent increase in my general loneliness has me almost desperate for some kind of connection, and I consider if it might be worth it to try reaching out to Mason again.
But it doesn’t matter; Mason and I haven’t spoken in years. I got over it and moved on. With everything I'm dealing with now, reconnecting with a fair weather friend would be absurd, another distraction.
As I drive through the quiet streets, the surrounding silence becomes deafening. Natalie's reappearance in my life was a lifeline; the first real connection I've experienced in years. Despite the complexities of our history, being around her made me feel like I wasn't going through this life alone.
I know this is a huge inflation of the whirlwind we experienced. And I don't think it necessarily meant as much to Nat as it did to me.
I know I need to stay away from her. For her sake, for mine, for Aria's. But it’s difficult. Impossible.
I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.
CHAPTER 13
JULIAN
The early morning light casts a golden glow over the city as I drive away from home, Aria's cheerful goodbye still ringing in my ears.
I'm not scheduled to be at the Langford for a few more hours, but I decide to head over early. I'm curious to see the progress on projects other than my own—particularly the Grand Hall that had Natalie up in arms the other day.
I still have no idea what fresco means.
Entering the building, I make my way to the Hall, my steps slow, almost reverent as I push open the door.
The sight that greets me is nothing short of breathtaking. The room is enveloped in an endless cascade of Renaissance art, the ceiling and each wall adorned with glossy, vibrant murals that depict scenes straight out of a ballroom. The colors are vivid, the details so finely rendered that the room feels alive, each painted figure poised to step right out of its two-dimensional existence. It’s like stepping into a room made of fine china, delicate and magnificent.
These must be the frescoes.
I’ve never considered myself an art aficionado—my life has always been about tangible, practical things, like wood, nails, and concrete. Standing here, I feel a pull, an unexpected appreciation for the beauty and craftsmanship surrounding me. It’s a new feeling, this stirring of artistic appreciation, and I find myself wanting to understand more, to see the room through Natalie’s eyes.
