Julian sighed. “I know getting involved with him was stupid…”
“Julian.” Ilan’s voice was quiet and commanding, and Julian went silent. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”
“Really?” He couldn’t help his sarcasm as he pushed himself up on an elbow and looked his best friend in the face. “You had no problem telling me what an idiot I was at the café. Or years back when Bryce…”
“I regret how I handled Bryce, because I know it pushed you closer to him and you suffered longer. I will never forgive myself for that.”
Julian pushed himself all the way up to sit, then grabbed Ilan’s hand. “It was my fault, not yours. Staying was on me.”
“You can’t take responsibility for what an abusive man did to you—or to your psyche,” Ilan told him.
Julian nodded, staring down to where their fingers were joined. “You can’t take responsibility for it either. And I know the thing with Archer is unconventional. And the way he lied hurt.”
“Yes,” Ilan said, and squeezed his fingers gently, “but it wasn’t the same. You cared about him more than you’ve ever cared about Bryce. I wish I had been able to see it.”
“If you had been there,” Julian said carefully, “you would have figured it out way before I got to know him.”
“And that’s why I’m glad I didn’t show up early,” Ilan said. He cleared his throat and shifted closer. “I believe your dad and Corinne when they tell me that you two had something. And I…”
Ilan’s words were cut off by the flash of the doorbell light, and Julian frowned. His dad and Corinne wouldn’t bother, and it was Christmas so unless his mother had a personality transplant, he couldn’t imagine who it would be.
“Hold that thought.” He rose and shuffled to the door, opening it and freezing at the sight of a very familiar woman. “Um.”
“Sorry to bother you on a holiday,” she said briskly, then held out a small gift bag in matte black with silver snowflakes embossed. “Mr. Dawson asked me to deliver this.”
Julian took it without really thinking, and before he could form words to the thousand questions he had—namely which Mr. Dawson had sent it—she was gone. Her sporty black car was disappearing around the corner, leaving Julian there with shaking hands and a racing heart.
“Who was that?” Ilan’s voice came from a few feet behind, and Julian spun, slamming the door shut as he held the deceptively heavy bag close to his chest.
“Um. She…she works for the Governor,” Julian said, and Ilan’s eyes widened. “She said this was from…” He stopped, because he wasn’t sure, but there was a little tag attached to the handle, so he walked to the living room and set it down before reading.
J, sorry I couldn’t bring this to you myself. My best friend’s mom was out of town so she had to get this done and sent over after I left, but I couldn’t go without letting you know how I feel. It took me forever to find this quote, and the moment I did, I knew it was written for us, even if it was hundreds of years before the deaths of our stars made us even a concept of reality. But I mean this, and I appreciate that I could find better words to say it than my own brain would come up with. I’m sorry, and you will always matter.
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
-W. Shakespeare
Forever yours, A-
Julian didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until Ilan brushed them with his thumbs, and when he looked up, he saw calm resignation on his friend’s face. “You’re going, right?”
Julian reached into the bag, and he pulled out a single wrapped book. He didn’t need to peel back the cover to know what it was, but he did anyway. The absurd eighties hair on the cover model, the archaic font, the name curled in calligraphy at the bottom. And just inside the front cover, a looping scrawl bearing his name, and a single message that made all the difference.
To Julian,
If you’re still wondering if he’s worth it, I can promise you he is. Archer is one of the good ones. Don’t hesitate. I think you and I both know, time isn’t infinite.
Love,
CS Grace
“CS Grace is his best friend’s mom,” Julian whispered softly.
Ilan let out the smallest laugh. “I’m not saying that’s a sign, but…”