Chapter 65
Nora's POV
The phone's vibration jolted me awake at eight. I blinked at the ceiling, disoriented. My brain still felt heavy, sluggish. I'd finally dozed off around two in the morning.
I fumbled for my phone. A voice message from Aunt Marianne lit up the screen. "Morning, sweetie. We're still organizing the new place today. We'll visit your mom later this afternoon."
I typed back a quick "okay" and noticed Henry's text underneath: "Free tonight? Want to grab dinner?"
Then I saw them. Four messages from Julian, timestamped in neat intervals.
7:15 AM: "Breakfast?"
7:45 AM: "Still asleep?"
8:00 AM: "I'm in your hotel's restaurant. I'll wait until 8:30."
My heart kicked against my ribs. He's downstairs. Right now.
I threw off the covers and caught my reflection in the mirror—hair tangled, dark circles under my eyes, no makeup. I looked like I'd been hit by a truck.
"Shit," I muttered, grabbing my phone. My fingers moved before my brain caught up. "Sorry, just saw these. Coming down now!"
I rushed into the bathroom, brushing my teeth while my mind raced. What does this mean? Is this about work or...?
I pulled on my jacket over a white turtleneck and jeans, twisted my hair into a quick ponytail, and sprayed some toner on my face to hide the exhaustion. In the hallway, I paused outside my door and took three deep breaths.
"What am I doing?" I whispered to myself. "Why am I rushing?"
I pulled out my phone and texted Henry back: "Can't tonight. Need to see my mom. Another time?"
Using family as a shield. Classic.
Then I replied to Julian: "Sorry, just saw these. Coming down now!"
I locked the door and headed for the elevator.
---
The restaurant's glass doors slid open, and I spotted him immediately. Julian sat by the window, dressed in a charcoal overcoat over a black cashmere half-zip sweater. Morning light caught the sharp angles of his face as he methodically cut into a slice of bacon.
He looked up as I approached. Those silver-gray eyes locked onto mine, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
My heart did that stupid stuttering thing again. I forced myself to walk normally and slid into the chair across from him.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," I said quietly.
His gaze lingered on my face for just a moment. "You didn't sleep well."
It wasn't a question.
"The pillow was kind of hard," I lied.
He didn't call me out on it. Instead, he pushed a glass of orange juice across the table. "Drink this. It'll help."
I reached for the glass, and my fingers brushed against his. I jerked my hand back like I'd touched a live wire.
"Aren't you busy with work?" I tried to find something to say.
Julian watched me with that unreadable expression. After a beat of silence, he spoke. "No matter how busy I am, I wanted to have breakfast with you."
The glass froze halfway to my lips. My ears went hot.
"I—I should get some food," I stammered, standing abruptly.
---
I made my way to the buffet table, trying to steady my breathing. Get it together, Nora.
I grabbed a plate and started loading it with bacon. Then I felt him behind me—half a step away, close enough that I could sense his presence without turning around.
"I'll have some too," he said as I picked up a few strips.
I put a few on his plate. Then I reached for the bread.
"I'll have that too."
I paused, glancing over my shoulder. He stood there with his hands in his coat pockets, watching me with barely concealed amusement.
Is he serious?
I grabbed a slice of ham. "And this?"
"That too."
I bit the inside of my cheek. He can't get his own food?
Fine. If he wanted to play this game, I'd call his bluff. I kept picking out the food I liked until I scooped up a huge spoonful of strawberry jam and smeared it thick across a piece of bread, then held it out to him with a challenging look. "This too?"
He definitely wouldn't like sweets.
Julian stared at the bread for a long moment. Then he reached past me, took the tongs, and set them down. His voice was dry but edged with laughter. "That's enough. You're not going to eat half of what's on that plate."
I glanced down. He was right. I'd piled on way too much.
"I can take it to go—" I started.
He nodded toward a sign on the wall. Takeout Not Allowed.
I bit my lip, mortified. I'd tried to mess with him and ended up screwing myself over.
Julian's eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, but he said nothing. He just gestured back toward the table.
---
We sat down again. I managed to eat about half of what I'd taken before my stomach protested. I stared miserably at the remaining food, then glanced at Julian. He'd already finished his plate and was sipping his coffee, completely unbothered.
"Um..." I hesitated. "Could you maybe help me with—"
Before I could finish, he reached over and pulled my plate toward him. "Don't mention it," he said flatly, picking up my fork.
"I can just throw it away," I said quickly.
"Wasting food is shameful," he said calmly, cutting into a piece of bacon with precise movements.
I froze, staring at him. Julian was eating my leftovers with my fork, completely unbothered, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
I bit my lip and reached across the table, managing to snag one boiled egg from the plate before he could stop me. "Then... I can at least eat this one."
He glanced at the egg in my hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He said nothing, just continued eating.