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So damned alone.
Yeah, that was him.
The careless playboy with a broken heart.
* * *
The sun shone overhead so bright, Molly was surprised she didn’t disintegrate like a vampire under its glare. After being locked in her studio for weeks, it was almost a miracle her skin did not instantly peel off from sunlight exposure. She might even deserve such a fate.
At least if you asked Julian, who, she assumed, wanted her dead.
Eyes narrowed to shield herself from some of the sun’s brightness, she gazed down at the envelope she gripped in her clammy hands, recognizing the handwriting as that of Julian’s assistant, Ms. Watts.
So. This is what their friendship and one-night stand—because truly, that was all they’d managed to have together—had come to.
Communicating through the post office.
She closed her mailbox and had to sit down on the grass next to the sidewalk and just stare down at that white envelope.
Her texts had not been answered.
Her calls went straight to voice mail.
She wanted to kill the jerk for being so silly and dramatic, and at the same time she wanted to slap herself for opening her big mouth to Garrett without thinking.
Julian was, and had always been, an extremely private man. He showed his cool and aloof side to everyone but only showed his true self to a select few. Molly knew, deep down, that no one knew Julian better than she did.
He couldn’t stand to talk about politics but oh, he sure loved to steal her Lucky Charms marshmallows. He was a sports and sports-memorabilia fanatic, and if he was not a businessman, he’d probably spend all day doing water sports at the lake surfer, with his suntan and lazy charm and a wakeboard under him. He’d never felt as if he belonged in his family—never really felt as if he belonged anywhere.
And that was why she couldn’t stand to remember what she’d unwittingly done to him.
He’d longed for freedom in his life, and instead she’d blown the whistle on him to his family so they could tie him back up and keep him from flying. She had done that. To the man she had constantly, throughout her life, loved in every way a woman could love a man.
The worst part of it was that Julian never let anyone in.
But Molly had always come in through the back door.
And he’d let her. Enjoyed it, even. Cared for her, protected her, coddled her.
And she’d accidentally betrayed him to a man whom he’d believed she wanted over him.
How could she ever make things right if he didn’t even want to talk to her?
It had been fifteen days since she’d seen him now, and each day she’d tried to make amends. Her last attempt had been returning every penny of the money he’d wired to her for her unfinished mural. With a note that read, I’ve never left a work unfinished until now. Please give me a chance—I’d like to finish this.
She’d written a thousand notes before settling on that one. Some had said, I love you and please and forgive me. But she’d been too much of a chicken to send any of those, and so she’d settled on the most businesslike one, thinking it was probably her best chance of getting an entry with him.
She drew a deep breath and peeled the envelope open with shaky fingers. The check she had written to him for the $150,000 fell into her open palm, shredded to pieces. There was no note. Except her own note. Shredded to pieces, as well.
She thought she heard her heart crack.
Her eyes welled with tears and she ducked her face when a car approached. Tires screeched, a motor shut down and doors opened.
Kate and Beth stepped out of the Catering, Canapés and Curry van. “Molly?” Kate said, alarmed.
Molly used her hair to shield her profile from view and jammed the pieces of the check and note back into the envelope, rising to her feet and quickly wiping at her cheeks. “Hey. I’ll help you.” She didn’t look at them as she went to the back of the van and began unloading their empty trays, but she could feel their eyes on her as she headed inside the house.
Beth caught up with her in the kitchen. “Molly?”
