Page 14 of Take Two

“This is exactly why Malik keeps telling you to use the jet,” Julian says, and now there’s something under the humor, something genuine and careful. “Cy, there’s going to come a time when you can’t move through public spaces the way you have been. It’s not safe, and it doesn’t get easier the longer you wait to acknowledge it.”

I groan and let my head fall back against the leather headrest. The Seattle skyline appears briefly outside the window, gray and overcast and oddly beautiful for it.

“Can you and your husband please stop trying to turn me into a billionaire stereotype? I’m fine. I promise. I was wearing the glasses and everything.”

“It is a very nice jet, thank you very much,” he continues, with the serene confidence of someone who has fully made peace with the luxury in question. “I worry about you. You chose a life of being in the public eye, Cy. That means the public eye is always a possibility.”

“It is unnecessary,” I say stubbornly.

“It has leather seats,” he offers, the tone shifting again toward teasing, though I can hear beneath it that he has more he wants to say and is choosing not to, because he knows this particular argument won’t land today.

“So does my car.”

“Cy. Seriously. You’re world famous. Some degree of practical consideration is not selling out, it’s just sense. Think about your privacy, if nothing else.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“That is the most Malik Carter argument I have ever heard come out of your mouth. He’s gotten into your head completely.”

Julian laughs again, easy and warm, and despite myself I find myself smiling properly for the first time since the airport.

The last few years have altered all our lives in ways none of us anticipated when we were younger and everything seemed either impossibly fixed or impossibly far away. Hearing my brother laugh still feels exactly the same as it always did. Some things don’t change regardless of how much everything else does, and I’ve decided those things are worth holding onto.

Eventually he quiets enough for the conversation to continue.

“So,” he says. “Seattle.”

“We just left the airport.”

The SUV merges into traffic as I glance out the window. The familiar skyline rises beyond the glass, gray clouds hanging low and full over the city in a way that Seattle seems to specialize in, like it’s cultivated the atmosphere deliberately.

“And how long are you staying?” Julian asks.

I shrug, even though he can’t see it.

“Honestly? I have no idea. Jasper told me to get on a plane and promised he’d explain everything once I arrived. Apparently, there’s a meeting tomorrow. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine.”

Julian hums thoughtfully. The sound means he’s processing something, filing it somewhere, deciding whether to say the thing he’s thinking or let it sit.

“So, you’re flying to another state entirely on trust.”

“I’ve worked with Jasper for years now,” I reply, wondering where he’s heading with this.

“That wasn’t a no,” he deadpans.

A reluctant laugh escapes me.

“Fair. But he is my agent, and I trust he has my best interests at heart. He’s never given me reason to think otherwise.”

The conversation softens into a comfortable silence for a few moments. Traffic rolls past outside while Cameron scrolls through something on his phone in the front seat, performing his own practiced brand of not listening while absolutely listening.

Then Julian clears his throat.

The sound immediately makes me suspicious. It’s a specific kind of throat-clearing, deliberate in the way that means he’s been working up to whatever comes next for the last several minutes at least. I narrow my eyes at the phone.

“What?” I ask.

“What, what?” he replies, with an innocence so studied it becomes its own kind of evidence.