My gaze snags on the single-serving coffee maker on the table in the corner of the room. “Maybe you should have some coffee first. Take a shower. I don’t want you to think I’m bombarding you as soon as you’ve woken up. Plus, I’m not sure how safe it is to talk to you before coffee,” I attempt to joke.
He studies me, no doubt trying to figure out what’s going on and what I think we need to discuss. After a few moments, he nods. “How about this—while I’m in the shower, you order room service. We’ll eat breakfast on the balcony and go over whatever it is that’s bothering you. Sound good?”
I agree to his plan and call down to the hotel kitchen while he closes the bathroom door behind him. By the time he’s stepping back into the room, freshly shaved and looking like he’s ready to take on corporate America, there’s a knock on the door and breakfast is being delivered. I take the plates of food while Julien follows behind me with a thanks and a cash tip for the staff.
“I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I ordered one savory dish and one sweet. I’m fine with either, so you choose.”
He considers the omelet on one plate and the French toast with berry compote on the other. “They both look good. Care to share?”
I place both plates in the middle of the bistro table on the balcony, then hold out a fork, which Julien takes.
“So, what’s on your mind?” he asks after we’ve both taken a few bites.
I dab at my lips with a napkin. “I’d like to revisit our conversation from yesterday.”
He visibly stiffens.
“Given what you shared about your stance on work relationships and why, I know me bringing this up again probably makes you uncomfortable, but I feel like there are things ... unsettled ... between us, and I’d like to discuss them.”
“What things?” he asks. “Unsettled how?”
My eyes never leave his face as I take a bite of French toast and slowly chew. “What is it that you want, Julien?”
“I thought I’d made myself quite clear.” He clears his throat. “I want Squire to publish your books.”
“What if your dad never issued this test of his? What if he retired tomorrow, stepped down as CEO of King Publishing, and named you his successor? What would you want then?”
Julien’s gaze flicks toward the beach for a moment before coming back to rest on my face. His normally clear blue eyes are clouded and dull. “What’s the point of even asking such a question when that isn’t reality? Entertaining a hypothetical scenario isn’t going to change how things really are.”
I dip my head in concession. “True, but sometimes looking at a problem from a different angle opens our eyes to avenues we weren’t aware of before. In this instance, it appears that you feel like you have your back against the wall and there’s only one way out.”
He huffs his agreement. “Dad was pretty clear on what he expects me to do. Mom as well.”
“Yes,” I say, hearing my tone shift in my ears but unable to change it back to normal. “They were.”
One of his brows raises slightly. “What does that mean?”
“If it were up to you, would you try to save Squire or close it?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“Ifit were up to you, Julien.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks.
I reach out and trap his hand. “There’s no one here but the two of us. Be honest with me. Be honest with yourself.”
He blows out a hard breath. “If it were up to me, I’d close Squire. You know that. Everyone knows that. It’s what I’ve been trying to convince Dad to do all along, to no avail.”
I squeeze his hand, then let go. I pick my fork back up and take a casual bite, trying not to make a big deal out of his pronouncement. Once I finish chewing, I say, “So, in actuality, youdon’twant to publish my books.”
His gaze shoots to mine, wide with horror. “Martha—”
I hold up a hand to stay his protest. “Don’t backtrack now. We’re actually getting somewhere.”
I cut off another portion of egg, trying to downplay the importance of this conversation with my movements. “You want Squire to shut its doors. You don’t want to publish my books. In this scenario, there are no contracts between us. We do not, in any way, work together.” I stab the egg, then still my hand to look up at him. The time for downplaying is over. “What do you want, Julien?”
His fingers twist the bracelets at his wrists while he stares back at me, a tormented set to his mouth.
