Little Secrets(37)

He stares at her, taking her all in, his gaze moving over her face, her hair, her necklace, her blouse, the wedding rings on her left hand, the bracelet on her right wrist. He isn’t smiling, but his face is naturally pleasant. What did Sal tell him? She wonders if she looks the way he was expecting.

She wonders how many times he’s done this.

Finally, he speaks. “I’m Julian. Don’t be nervous, Marin. We’re only talking.”

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she exhales.

“Hello,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”

Julian—if that’s his real name—is about her age, maybe a few years older. Dark eyes, thick brows, strong nose, head shaved down to the skull. Scuffed black motorcycle jacket over a black V-neck T-shirt. Extremely muscular build, from what she can see. Strong hands, no watch, and no wedding ring, though she supposes it would be weird if he were wearing one in this scenario. He doesn’t look like a guy who has a nine-to-five desk job, but neither does he look like a—what was Sal’s word?—fixer.

Not that she has any clue what a professional fixer is supposed to look like. She’s never seen Ray Donovan.

He’s watching her watch him, and another moment passes before he says, “So, you’re the one who broke Sal’s heart?”

She blinks. This isn’t how she expected the conversation to start.

“I mean … sort of.” She doesn’t know what Sal told him exactly, so she doesn’t know how to explain it, how much detail he expects. “We dated in college. A long time ago.”

“And you dumped him for the guy you ended up marrying?” Julian asks, and it’s more a statement than a question.

Jesus, Sal, what did you tell this guy? “Not … exactly.”

“Sal’s a good guy,” he says. “You ever regret it? Choosing your husband over him?”

“I…” Wow. She has no idea how to answer that. She was not prepared for these types of questions, especially right off the bat, but the man seems incapable of small talk. Or even hello. “I mean, of course I don’t. Sal knows that. We’re good.”

“I’m just trying to confirm how you know each other.” Julian’s eyes crinkle, and it occurs to her that he’s smiling. Or attempting to. “See if your story matches up with Sal’s. Because obviously you and I have never met before, and I need to make sure you’re the person he says you are.”

“Sal’s my best friend.” It’s the simplest explanation, and the one that’s most accurate. “We go back a long way. I can show you my ID if you need to confirm my name.”

Shit. That was stupid. She doesn’t want to show him her ID; then he’d know everything about her, including her address, and somehow that seems … dangerous.

He shakes his head. “Nah, no need. We’re good.”

“How do you know Sal?” she asks.

He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you’ve worked for him. Once or twice.”

“That’s true.” There’s a glint in Julian’s dark eyes. “But that’s not how we met. Once upon a time, we were both residents at MCC.”

Marin stares at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. And then she understands. MCC is Monroe Correctional Complex. It’s a prison. Jesus Christ. When Sal was nineteen and a sophomore, he was arrested for selling marijuana. It was minor as far as drug offenses went, but it was his second offense, and his father was pissed. He refused to bail Sal out of jail, so Sal did thirty days before he got a court date, and the judge let him off with time served. This all hap pened before they met, and Sal never talks about it, which is why she often forgets he was ever incarcerated.

“We kept in touch after we both got out. He talked about you when you guys were together then. Still does,” Julian says. “Says you’re the one that got away.”

“That’s interesting, because he’s never mentioned you at all,” she blurts, and then feels her face turn red. Her words were a lot blunter than she intended.

It doesn’t seem to bother Julian. He shrugs. “I’m not the kind of guy you tell your friends about.”

“He usually tells me everything,” she says.

“Does he?” Julian says with a small smile, and before she can ask him what that means, he adds, “We don’t see each other often. When he needs me, he calls. I specialize in problems that need to be dealt with a certain way.”

“What kind of problems?” She holds her breath, wondering if he’ll say the words.

“Whatever you need, Marin.”

He doesn’t explain, and an awkward silence falls over them until Marin’s phone lights up. It’s a text from Sal, checking in on her. She’s mortified when Julian’s gaze is naturally drawn to the phone screen and McKenzie’s naked body. She grabs the phone from the table. Nobody else but her is ever supposed to see this on her phone.

“It’s Sal.” She can feel the heat from her cheeks spreading down her neck. “Wanting to know if everything’s okay.”

Julian leans back, sips his coffee. “Go ahead and text him back.”

She types quickly, then moves to stick her phone in her purse.