so Archer reached for his fingers and linked them together. The smile he got in reward was worth every second he’d spent apart from Julian that afternoon. “I ran into your ex again.”
Julian scowled. “Where?”
“I think he followed me outside after I grabbed coffee. If he didn’t hate me before, he hates me now.”
Julian lifted a brow. “Did you hit him?”
Archer laughed, closing his eyes again, and he let his fingers drag down Julian’s—feeling the softness and warmth in the tips. “No. I was tempted. I think if this wedding week dragged on any longer, I might.”
“That’s why Ilan isn’t here,” Julian said with a soft chuckle. “He’d end up in jail and probably get fired, and ruining his career for a little worm like Bryce isn’t worth it.”
“No, it’s not,” Archer said. He let go so he could roll onto his side, and he propped up on his elbow, looking up at the silhouette of Julian as he blocked out most of the sun. “How um. How was your dad?”
Julian bit his lip, turning his gaze out toward the waves. “Fine. Better. He’s…he and my mother split up.”
At that, Archer sat up straight, shock hitting him. “What? When? God, it’s not because we…”
“No,” Julian said. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then reached for Archer and tugged until he was lying between the V of his legs. It was a little awkward—they were both close to the same height, but Julian’s larger body enfolded his in a loose embrace and after a moment, Archer relaxed into it. When Julian spoke next, his lips brushed the side of Archer’s face. “It’s been a while. My mother was trying to convince him that telling me would be too much stress after coming here to deal with Bryce and Ashton’s wedding. She’s been using the same manipulation tactics on me too—telling me to show up to family events and keep my mouth shut because my dad’s heart is weak.”
Archer let out a sharp breath. “That’s…”
“I know,” Julian murmured. He dropped his forehead against the back of Archer’s shoulder, then slung his arms around his middle and held tight, like he desperately needed the contact. “I wish he had told me months ago. I wish he had left her years ago. He deserved that lost time to find someone who actually made him happy.”
“Does he have someone?” Archer asked.
Julian shook his head. “He said he doesn’t—said he’s not really looking. He wants space to figure out his life apart from her, and I get it.”
“Yeah,” Archer said, because he did too. Not in the same way, but he knew what it was like to desperately cling to any escape from what was familiar and suffocating. And knowing Fredric—and seeing the way Jacqueline treated the people around her—he couldn’t be anything but happy for the man. “Is he okay?”
Julian made a soft noise, and Archer swore he could feel the curve of a smile against his back where Julian had pressed his mouth. “I think he is. He said he was sad—for the lost years, and because it’s always sad when something ends.”
“But you’re not,” Archer pointed out, and Julian gave a soft laugh.
“No. I’m not. I don’t want to say I hate her. She’s my mother—and god, if I could find some way to just stop caring…”
When Julian went quiet, not finishing his thought, Archer rose up to his hands and knees and turned, pushing Julian’s arms aside so he could settle over his thighs. It was a tight fit, but warm and comfortable, and Julian’s hands found their way to his waist, curling fingers into his ribs. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand because my life took a very different path from yours. But I know what it’s like to desperately want to change your circumstances and know that it’s impossible. I’m sorry it hurts.”
Julian shook his head, then cupped Archer’s face with soft palms and leaned in to kiss him. “Can we…”
“Yes,” Archer said.
“Do you know what I was going to ask?”
Archer grinned, bowing his head, because he did—but it also didn’t matter. He would have said yes to anything. He breathed in, then surged up and kissed Julian once more—a little desperate, a little possessive. “Whatever it is, my answer is yes.”
Chapter 22
Julian couldn’t keep his hands to himself the moment they were behind closed doors. He could barely restrain himself out on the beach, but he didn’t want to put on a show for anyone watching. He was feeling greedy,