into the milk. The swirls of dark in the pale cream looked so much like Archer’s galaxies, and he ached all over again. “I…” But the rest of the words died on his tongue because explaining would offer part of the story that wasn’t his to give. Archer deserved his privacy on what he’d done. “He did something, and it hurt me, but I…may have over-reacted.”
“No! You?” she asked with a smirk, then softened into a smile. “Julian, you’re allowed to be sensitive right now. And forever. You’re allowed to let yourself hurt more than others might hurt. After what you’ve been through…”
“I know,” he said, breathing out softly. “It’s not feeling the pain that I regret—it’s the way I left.”
“Was it forgivable?”
He closed his eyes, because yes, it was, but admitting that was admitting he’d fucked up beyond repair. “Nothing he did was meant to hurt me.”
“Impact vs intent. We’ve had this conversation before,” she reminded him, and he was well aware. “I liked him, if that means anything to you.”
“It does.” He saw the chocolate was nearly done, so he reached for the Bailey’s and she cracked the top, pouring in more than he would have. “He liked you too.”
“Couldn’t you just call him?”
It was such a simple solution, but… “I.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe. Yeah.”
“Just do it before you get drunk,” she told him, and she began to dish out the chocolate into mugs as Julian stared at his phone which had been sitting on the counter all day. He’d been checking it periodically through the week, but Archer’s number never appeared, and he knew then it was too late.
But maybe it didn’t have to be.
He turned it on, scrolling to Archer’s contact info, feeling a small rush of gratitude that he hadn’t been ready to erase it. His finger trembled, but he heard the familiar connection in his hearing aid, and then it began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
“We’re sorry, but the number you’re trying to reach is no longer…”
He hung up before his hands began to shake harder, and he looked up at Corinne whose expression told him she knew.
“I think he went back to Paris,” Julian forced himself to say. “He came here as a favor to his brother, but…”
“I bet Dad could get the Governor’s number. Like his private number. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?”
Julian shook his head, but he wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her, or telling her no. He’d never put himself out there so far, and he hadn’t let himself be so visibly vulnerable since Bryce left him. If anyone deserved it, it was Archer, but he wasn’t sure he was ready.
“Listen,” Corinne said, pushing two mugs into his hands, “we can’t do anything about it right now, can we?”
“No,” he conceded, because it was a holiday and he wasn’t about to ruin that for Archer’s brother.
“So let’s get drunk now, and tomorrow Ilan can order us some Chinese since he knows all the good places open on the holiday, we can look up what movies are playing, and we’ll have a proper Jewish Christmas. No gifts.”
Julian’s brows rose, and he even felt the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No gifts?”
Corinne winked at him. “No Christmas gifts. But right now, especially—booze.”
Julian was only slightly hungover, not enough to make him regret drinking, but enough that he didn’t feel guilty about laying his head in Ilan’s lap and letting him play with his hair. The TV was on, but the sound was off, and Fredric and Corinne had gone to take Bastian on a walk and pick up the food.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ilan asked after a long silence.
Julian closed his eyes. “No.” In truth, he did, but he was feeling too sore for Ilan’s particular brand of love and honesty right then. He was still missing Archer like a limb, and he didn’t want to listen to Ilan tell him all the ways it was wrong.
“Can I say something then?” Ilan’s voice was soft and tentative, so Julian looked up at him and nodded. “I think you’ve gotten so used to punishing yourself that you don’t know how to stop.”
And…there it was. He let himself flinch, then turned to face the TV. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“I’m sorry.” Ilan’s petting softened into kneading at the tense muscles behind his neck. “I try to care more gently, but it isn’t easy when the people I love are