Arrogant Bastard - Julie Capulet Page 0,49
all over town.”
“Billy Burke. I know that name. He played two seasons for Notre Dame.”
“Did he?” I’d made a point of not following his career.
“He was their up-and-coming golden boy before his neck was fractured in a bad tackle made in the final few seconds of the playoffs. He never made it to the NFL.”
“Good.” I’m not a vengeful person on the whole but I’m glad to hear he fell off his pedestal.
“What happened next?” As Gage asks me the question, he does the most outrageous thing. He smooths my hair with his rough hand, so, so gently. He’s not scared of this, or disapproving, or disgusted. And I can just tell by the staunchness of him in this moment—even though I can’t know for sure, I somehow just do—that Gage hasn’t done the things I’m describing. That he would have stepped up, or not let it happen the way it did in the first place. His women cry because it’s so good, not because it’s so … awful. Because it was. It was painful and scary and heartbreaking. And it succeeded in making sure I wanted nothing to do with it again for a very long time.
“A few weeks later I … I lost the baby. I wasn’t very far along and it just happens sometimes, they said. And I was even more sad, after that, because I was just so incredibly relieved. I felt terrible, and guilty, for feeling that way. But I was.”
“Of course you were relieved. There’s no shame in that. Where were your parents through all this?”
“Gone. Never there in the first place. My parents were the kind of parents who never parented. They never pretended to want to. My father was busy philandering his way through Westchester County and my mother was living the dream—or the nightmare, depending on your perspective—in the Hollywood Hills. I never told them any of it. It wouldn’t have helped. I leaned on Josie. But I was already living in her house with her brothers and her dad, who were kind and they might have known but … you know, it’s not the kind of thing you talk about over dinner.”
“No, it wouldn’t be.”
Gage was right about one thing: I do feel lighter. Exhausted and … empty. Tears wet my face. “I’m sorry for telling you all this, Gage. Really. There’s nothing fun or glamorous or romantic about it and I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I’m so sorry.”
“You haven’t ruined my night, sweetheart. Shit happens, all the time, to all of us. It’s called life, and most of it is fucking brutal. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were young and some asshole took advantage of you and it was hard and it’s still hard. But it doesn’t define who you are and you shouldn’t let it. Think about all the good things that have happened since then. You’ve achieved a lot for someone so young. You own a business. And I’m sure you’ve met nicer guys since then and had some better experiences.”
“No. I mean … no. I just … couldn’t.” God, it’s so embarrassing.
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t … that was the only—”
“Wait a minute.” He stares at me in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never been with anyone else since that happened?”
“No. Not … until … well, tonight. And that was the first—” No. I can’t tell him that. This is too crazily awkward. God, I wish I could take it all back like I’ve never wished for anything.
He watches my eyes, like he’s deeply affected by what I’ve just told him. “Well, that’s just not right.”
I don’t know if it’s right or not. I suddenly feel incredibly drained. Confessing all this has left me weary to the bone. Gage seems to sense that.
He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket. “I’m going to message my driver—no protests—and have him pick up a couple of burgers for us. You’re going to eat something and I’m going to take you home. You’re going to get a good night’s sleep. And then I want to see you again tomorrow.”
I’ve just told my deepest, darkest, most personal secret to this gorgeous glitterati guru playboy. I know that as soon as the whiskey has worn off I’m going to feel mortified and deeply humiliated. I can already feel the remorse creeping in. “I’m helping Josie pack tomorrow and then I have to work. I want to spend this time with her since we won’t