The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(44)

I burst out laughing, completely caught off guard by her humor.

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” I said, wiping my nose and finally getting ahold of my sniffles.

She was about to reply when I heard a mumble on the other end of the phone line. She held up her finger to silence me and then spoke into the receiver.

“Hey Margery. This is Beth. Beth Montgomery—yes, yes. I’m good.”

There were more mumbles on the other end of the line as Beth and Margery went through the standard pleasantries. Then finally, she smiled up at me.

“I’m glad everything is going good for you. We’ll have to catch up for dinner soon,” she said. “I actually called though because I have a favor to ask you.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


Julian





As soon as I walked out of the fundraiser, I ripped the bowtie from around my neck and shoved it into my pocket. The damn thing had been strangling me for the last three hours and it felt good to finally get a lungful of air.

A hotel attendant rushed forward to greet me. “Sir, would you like me to call you a cab or do you have a driver?”

I held up my hand and shook my head. I needed to walk. I needed to clear my head in the ten blocks it’d take me to get home. It didn’t feel good to tell my mother off. She wasn’t a malicious person, she was just a bored woman with too much wealth and even more insecurity.

To her, being a good mother meant providing your kids with a prominent last name and the means to succeed. What good was a hug or a kiss? To her, handshakes and air-kisses were the appropriate greetings for everyone from her ladies lunch group to her children. My father had been the affectionate one with us. He was a romantic down to the marrow of his bones. He’d had a way of softening my mother, of rounding out her edges. In the fifteen years since his death, she’d slowly reverted back to her true nature and my relationship with her had taken a turn for the worse. Now, seeing the way she was choosing to handle Lorena’s issues, I wanted nothing more to do with her.

A bike bell rang behind me and I stepped aside, out of the way, just as a pedicab flew by me on the edge of the street. The neon lights on his wheels blinked bright in the night, illuminating the girl sitting in the carriage behind his bike. She had long brunette hair that blew in the wind as the driver peddled them farther and farther away. She reminded me of Josephine and I instantly wished that I was with her, that I could talk to her about my mom and she could tell me I was doing the right thing.

I continued walking the path to my hotel, staying right along the edge of the street, with my hands shoved into the pockets of my tuxedo. I was only a few blocks away. I could be tucked in my bed, nursing a glass of scotch in five minutes. Instead, I veered to the right and headed in the direction of Greenwich Village, toward Josephine. I didn’t know her exact address, but that seemed trivial in the moment. I just wanted to be near her even if that meant aimlessly wandering around her neighborhood.

Chasing women, stalking their apartments was new territory for me. I’d never been in a situation like it before. Everything prior to Josephine had been black and white. Either I was in a relationship with a woman or it was just a short-term, one night thing. The parameters were laid out early on and the expectations were always made perfectly clear by both parties. This murky swamp I was wading through with Josephine was asking for trouble.

But Josephine was different.

She was my friend.

She was my very hot friend.

She was my very hot, very unattainable friend.

I kept walking through the streets of New York with no real goal in mind and no set destination. By the time I’d arrived outside of an old pizza shop in the heart of Greenwich Village, I still hadn’t decided whether or not I was actually going to work up the nerve to call Josephine. I stopped on the curb in front of the pizza place and clutched my cell phone in my hand just as a young couple stumbled out. They had their arms wrapped around one another and just at the end of the curb, the girl stood on her toes to plant a kiss on the guy’s cheek. Her date wrapped his arms around her back and dipped her low. I watched them like a fucking creep; they were so happy and in love.

Without another thought, I pulled out my phone and dialed Josephine’s number.

It rang three excruciating times, and then I heard her sweet voice on the other end of the line.

“Mr. Lefray, are you calling me from the bathroom at the fundraiser?” she asked, amusement in her tone.

I smiled as the tightness in my chest loosened. She had me wound right around her finger.

“I bailed,” I answered simply, stepping toward the wall of the pizzeria so I’d be out of the way of the other pedestrians.

“With your date?” she asked.

I bristled at the thought. “No. Just me.”

“Well Han Solo, you officially win the award for shortest date ever to occur.”

I smiled. “It was an hour at least. Maybe two.”

“You give a new meaning to the word quickie,” she joked.

I laughed and shook my head. “I’m sure she’s having more fun without me.”

She hummed and I stared out at the street, watching cab after cab pass by in a yellow blur.

“So why are you calling?” she asked.

I took a breath and stared up at the red and white striped awning above me. Time to bite the bullet.