Page 48 of Julian

The bartender arrives, and Abby doesn’t hesitate. “Two cosmos.”

“Sure thing,” he says.

I rest my elbows lightly against the bar, exhaling like I’m letting go of the week’s burdens.

It’s been… a lot.

Work, Dylan, Beau, Julian—

I cut off that thought immediately.

The drinks arrive quickly, two perfect shades of blush pink in chilled glasses, a thin twist of citrus resting delicately on each rim. Abby lifts hers, inspecting it.

“Gorgeous,” she declares before taking a sip. Her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, that’s dangerous.”

I take a cautious sip of mine and damn it. She’s right. “That’s really good,” I admit.

“I don’t lie about important things,” she says, pleased with herself.

We sit there, letting the atmosphere take shape around us.

Abby turns slightly on her stool, scanning the room with an eagle eye. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Strong start.”

“For the drinks or the men?” I ask.

“Both.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m observant,” she corrects. Then, without missing a beat, she pivots back to me, her expression sharpening with interest. “Speaking of which…”

I already know where this is going.

“How’s your boss?” she asks, drawing out the last word just enough to make it loaded. “Julian.”

I take another sip of my drink, buying myself a second. “He’s… fine,” I say, aiming for neutral and probably missing.

Abby’s brows lift immediately. “Fine,” she repeats. “Harper. You are driving around a literal multibillionaire who looks like he was designed in a lab to ruin women’s lives and your review is ‘fine’?”

I stare at her. “He’s my employer.”

“And?” she presses.

“And that’s it,” I say a little too quickly.

She leans in, eyes narrowing in amusement. “That is not it. You get evasive every time I ask about him or your new job.”

“It’s merely fine,” I insist, though even to my own ears, it lacks conviction.

Abby tilts her head, studying me the same way she’s done since we were kids, the way that says she’s already three steps ahead of whatever I’m about to deny.

“Harper,” she says, softer now but no less relentless, “I know you. And you don’t say fine like that unless it’s very much not fine.”

I let out a breath, glancing down at the surface of the bar, at the faint reflection of the room shimmering beneath my glass.

“It’s just… complicated,” I admit finally.

Her entire posture changes, interest fully engaged. “Complicated how?”