thumb to the edge of Julian’s jaw to orient himself, and he leaned in slightly. “You always have been and always will be a better man than you see yourself. And you deserve more than to be dragged to this farce of a fucking wedding just to make your mother happy.”
Julian curled one hand around his dad’s wrist and squeezed. “I’m not unhappy. And I know I let her get away with a lot because I don’t have the stomach to fight her, but if it really is going to make me miserable, I won’t go.”
“Promise me,” his dad said fiercely.
Julian laughed softly. “I promise.”
“I love you.”
Julian bowed his head and let his forehead rest against his dad’s shoulder. “I know you do.” And he felt it, a sort of soul-deep, eternal comfort that he could only get from a parent. For just a second, he was a kid again. He was terrified of some faceless nightmare and wrapped in his dad’s arms, and his dad’s low, rumbling voice was whispering all the ways the world was bright and beautiful and safe.
After a beat, the sharpness of the impending moment eased, and they resumed the journey into the parlor. The room hadn’t been lively, but the silence was still pressing as all eyes turned to them, and Julian did his best not to look over at the settee where Bryce and Ashton were sitting. He caught them in his periphery—the beachy sort of clothes with linen pants and light shirts complementing a deep tan from vacations that Julian had never agreed to go on.
He let his father go and walked up to kiss his mother’s cheek. Jacqueline was as put together as ever, in her navy blue dress and perfect coif. She put one hand on him and her scowl was ever-present as she took in his outfit, sighed, and then gave his shoulder a pat.
“I was beginning to doubt you’d show up,” she said.
A typical greeting, and there wasn’t much sting left after all these years. “Last day of term, I had a lot to finish up.”
“Must be tough,” his uncle said with a hearty laugh—mocking, but he didn’t care. “All those essays.”
“Well, someone has to train the future lawyers,” Corinne said sharply.
“We’re just getting ready to sit,” Jacqueline said, regaining control of the room. “I’m sure the wine has been poured, and God knows I could use a glass.”
Fredric joined his wife, and Julian kept his gaze on the ground until his sister approached, and he let out a breath of relief when he realized they were alone in the room. She linked her arm through his, but made no move to follow everyone out.
“How bad is it?”
He knew what she was asking, and he did her the courtesy of taking a breath and letting himself feel the bubble of anxiety that always sat at the base of his spine. After a beat, he shrugged. “Not as bad as I was afraid of.”
“Will you be able to eat?”
“I’ll be able to fake it,” he admitted, but honestly his mother’s pretentious food trends weren’t really ever that appetizing to begin with. Last Christmas she’d hired a chef who was really into foams, and by the end of the night he and Corinne hid in a closet stuffing their faces with stale shortbread they found from his dad’s hidden stash. “Ilan said he’s coming by tonight and he always brings something.”
Corinne sighed. “I’m feeling really guilty about dragging you here. Dad ripped me a new one when I walked in.”
Julian squeezed her arm. “It’s fine. I probably would have come anyway.”
“I just hate putting you through this shit.”
He wanted to tell her that it was no big deal, that he didn’t have feelings for Bryce so what did it matter, but that was a lie. He didn’t have feelings, but it felt like a sort of public humiliation as he watched the man he’d married on the shores of Fiji publicly declare he was trading up in the same fucking family. His ego was almost non-existent in the first place, but this was putting him in the center of attention which was the last place in the world he ever wanted to be.
“It’ll be over soon,” was all he could offer. They headed for the dining room, and he took a moment to wish he’d been able to find a stronger backbone before tonight.
He got his first real look at Bryce as they walked in and he took his seat