Julie's Butterfly (14 page)

Felix inhaled sharply.

“Elena’s reaching the end of her tether.” There was no need to explain what she needed her reserves for.

The sense of betrayal was reflected in Felix’s eyes as he looked up. “Why didn’t she tell me any of this before?” he asked reproachfully.

“Because she loves you,” replied Bastian. “She doesn’t want you to think you’re a burden to her.”

“But that’s exactly what I am.”

For the first time since Bastian had known him, Felix’s voice was laced with bitterness, and it hit Bastian with the force of a sledgehammer. He was determined to nip these feelings in the bud. He didn’t want Felix’s spirit to be poisoned with despair too.

“Nonsense. She’d do anything for you, just the way you would if the tables were turned.”

Felix took a shaky breath and finally nodded.

“I know.” A tense silence reigned between them for a moment. Bastian wanted to give Felix time to get used to the idea, but Felix was glancing furtively around the restaurant. “Fantastic. You drag me to a restaurant to tell me that.”

“Wait a sec. The restaurant was your idea. I would have brought it up at some point no matter where we were.” He leaned forward and gave Felix a penetrating look. “It would also make things a bit easier for you if you didn’t have to ask Elena for everything.”

A sharp crease furrowed Felix’s brow as he considered the pros and cons in his mind. Bastian knew Felix well enough that he could well imagine this internal debate. There was no doubt that appointing a care worker ran counter to how Felix liked to view himself. As long as Felix was cared for by his sister, he could convince himself that he was doing OK. He wasn’t stupid; he knew his own limits, but he had dreams, especially where his independence was concerned.

A care worker would make his need for help official, and that was difficult to accept. Felix, however, could also be very pragmatic, and rationally, he understood the benefits of a care worker, not only for himself, but for his sister.

Now that Bastian had pointed out that Elena was reaching her limit, it would be hard for Felix to ignore how much he asked of her. Of course he knew that she made sacrifices for him, but he could hardly believe that she would put his feelings before her own. Her selflessness touched him to the core. How could he seriously rule out the possibility of help when they both needed it so much?

Bastian knew Felix’s thoughts had turned to Elena from the gentle smile that played around his lips. The siblings’ pure love for each other swept through him and made his heart contract. If he had a brother or sister, he too would have done anything for them. Just like Elena and Felix.

“You’re right,” said Felix. “A little help can’t do any harm.” He was clearly satisfied with his decision, as the mischievous twinkle was back in his eyes. “But if the care worker has facial hair, I’m outta there.”

“I’ll personally show her the door,” promised Bastian.

“I’ll have a serious word with my sister tonight,” said Felix, his mind made up.

“Don’t judge her too harshly. She didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“It hurts my feelings far more when she’s not honest with me,” protested Felix sulkily. He grabbed his fork and dug into his potato soufflé‚ which had gone cold. “So can we please change the subject now? A man can only take so much sentimentality.”

Bastian laughed. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

They moved on to other topics. Julie texted back, accepting his invitation. Felix reacted with delighted chomping.

Bastian took him home and kept him company until Elena returned from the gallery. They sat down in the living room, Felix collapsed on the couch. Even their small detour to the restaurant had tired him out, his face pale, but his fatigue did nothing to dampen his spirits. He regaled Bastian with running commentary on the movie on TV, and since Bastian was pleased that he seemed to be feeling better, he let the constant stream of opinions wash over him without objection.

He was sitting in an easy chair listening to Felix when they heard Elena arrive home. Before she had even entered the room, Felix called out, his voice ringing through the apartment, “Guess who’s coming to dinner tomorrow!”

She appeared in the doorway. With Felix under medical supervision at the hospital, she had obviously caught up on her sleep; the dark shadows under her eyes were almost gone, and some of the color had returned to her cheeks. But there was still worry in her eyes as she studied Felix to gauge how he was doing. Seeing nothing seriously wrong, she relaxed visibly and smiled. “Who?”

“The queen of our good friend’s heart.” Felix smirked, throwing a gummy bear at Bastian from the pack on his lap.

Elena’s face showed a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Julietta’s coming here?”

Bastian forced a smile. “Only if it’s no trouble.”

“Of course not,” she said. She removed her coat and laid it over a chair by the dining table. “Does she like fish?” asked Elena. “Or perhaps beef stew? Or is she vegetarian?”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” said Bastian, who gathered from Elena’s look of concentration that she was already planning a three-course meal. He got up quickly from the easy chair. “We can grab takeout from the Greek restaurant.”

“Absolutely not,” replied Elena. “Our guests do not bring their own food!”

“I agree,” remarked Felix from the sofa. “After all, I was the one who invited you. I could cook up a few things before Elena gets home from work . . .”

Bastian gave Felix a look that stopped him in his tracks, before turning to Elena. “It’s really not necessary. Can we keep the whole thing a bit more casual? Just some friends getting together for a bite to eat?”

Elena blinked uncertainly.

“Julie’s the most down-to-earth person I know,” said Bastian, taking a step toward Elena. “She’ll simply be pleased to meet you.”

“But I—” Elena began.

“Please,” Bastian said softly.

“OK, fine.” Elena shrugged. “Greek then.”

Bastian nodded gratefully. “Julie works until eight. We should be here by half past.”

“Fine.”

“I’d better get going,” said Bastian. “I know you’ve got things to discuss.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

“If you need anything, give me a call.” He checked his cell phone to make sure Julie hadn’t cancelled. To his relief, she had merely sent him a message telling him she could hardly wait for their evening.

He felt the same way.

This was the first time she would see his apartment, and he wanted to make some preparations. His apartment was hardly a pigsty, but if you preferred to live in surroundings dominated by pure, simple lines, a certain degree of order was essential. His discreet and extremely thorough house cleaner was not due to come until Friday, so it was up to him to remove any evidence of his condition. Numerous indicators came to mind. He was sure he’d left the disinfectant spray on the sink, and the waste basket in the bathroom might easily be mistaken for an exploded first aid cabinet. Drops of blood might have stained the parquet floor, and his sheets were sure to be dirty, as his restless sleep was rarely without consequences.

Bastian realized there was something a bit obsessive about the way he stormed through the apartment with a cloth and all-purpose cleaner—like Mr. Clean on LSD, he thought cynically when he saw his expression in the mirror. A haunted expression had appeared on his face, and his rib cage was heaving.

How long could he keep up this farce?

He let his shoulders sag despondently.

Not long enough, that much was certain.

C
HAPTER
20

This man robbed her of her willpower.

Julie knew she should be scared of the way his presence caused her to throw all reason overboard. She had barely knocked on his door when she was in his arms and returning his hungry kisses. His greeting had been so passionate that she had not even had a chance to take a look around his apartment.

Now she was lying naked on his sofa in the middle of the living room, gradually coming to her senses. He was still lying on top of her, his face buried in her neck.

“What a lovely welcome,” she murmured sleepily.

She felt his lips curve into a smile. “I think so too.”

Her fingers stroked his neck until they reached the collar of his sweater. She vaguely remembered trying to free him from it, but he had moved out of reach and completely distracted her from her intention.

Only now did it occur to her that, unlike her, he was still fully clothed. Only his hands were out of his gloves, and his pants hung loosely around his legs. Under other circumstances, she would have found this totally strange. But they had both been in a hurry.

These things happened, didn’t they?

Her eyes gradually became accustomed to the dim light coming from a concealed source behind the sofa. She looked around at the austere room.

Bastian moaned with pleasure as she stroked him. She moved her hand down slowly over his back to reach beneath his sweater. He immediately tensed up in her embrace, causing her to stop.

He lifted his head and brushed her lips with a light kiss.

“Are you hungry?” he asked abruptly.

“I certainly am.” Her fingers continued their progress toward his bare skin.

Bastian smiled. “Actually, I was thinking of something to eat.”

To her mortification, her stomach growled at the mention of food.

He grinned victoriously. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

He kissed the tip of her nose and pulled away. He took her hand to help her up, a tacit but clear signal that their interlude had come to an end. She bit her lip in disappointment but said nothing.

Instead, she stepped up to him, naked. Entranced, he moved his hand over her hips around to her back and encouraged her to stand on tiptoe and kiss him again. As she raised her hands to touch his chest, he released himself abruptly.

“It’d be better if we went out to eat,” he decided gruffly.

“Why?” Her voice was all innocence.

“Otherwise your stomach won’t survive.”

She rocked back onto the soles of her feet.

“We could order in,” she suggested. Seeing his skeptical expression, she had to laugh. “I’ll be very good.”

“We’ll see,” he remarked in amusement. “The bathroom’s over there if you want to freshen up.”

She nodded gratefully and gathered her things from the floor, then disappeared into the bathroom, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the bright light. The room was surprisingly large. The floor was covered with dark-gray tiles that she suspected concealed under-floor heating. The rectangular toilet, sink, and tub looked right out of the pages of an interior-design catalogue, and a row of glossy white cupboards lined the walls of the room. Julie wondered how much stuff a man could need in his bathroom; in her own apartment, she had nothing more than a small shelf piled high with all her hair care and beauty products. Over the sink hung a huge illuminated mirror, which gave the room an even more spacious feel. Behind the tub was a shower stall with a large showerhead installed in the ceiling. She shook her head in disbelief. It was a girl’s dream come true; the only thing missing were the bath pearls.

She slid open the door to the shower and turned on the water. Like all the men Julie knew, Bastian seemed to have a passion for technical gadgets, and she had to try several controls before the water reached the right temperature. She stood under the water and sighed as it began to stream over her.

There was a light knocking.

“Can I come in?” asked Bastian through the door.

“Of course.” She wiped the condensation from the glass door and gave Bastian a smile. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Make yourself at home,” replied Bastian as he sat down on the closed toilet seat.

“Do you want to join me?” she called over the rushing of the water.

Bastian shook his head tensely. “The food will be here soon.”

“Pity.” It would have been nice to finally see and feel him naked. But the evening had only just begun.

“Can I use your shower gel?”

“Sure.”

Julie had never viewed herself as a seductress, but Bastian’s hungry gaze had aroused her instinct for play. She soaped herself from head to toe, then grinned at him with a provocative look. Her eyes had grown dark with desire.

He swallowed hard. “I’ll wait outside,” he said stiffly. He laid out two towels for her and almost ran from the room.

Satisfied by his reaction, she rinsed off, then dried herself and slipped into her clothes. Before leaving the bathroom, she examined herself critically in the mirror. Her cheeks had a slight flush and a blissful gleam lit up her eyes. She smiled. She felt truly beautiful.

As Julie entered the living room, the first thing she noticed was the lighting. Bastian had switched on the track lights, which made the spacious room as bright as day. Bathed in light, the living room, with its simple, sweeping corner couch, white matte walls, and flat-screen TV, looked even more empty. The only warmth came from the brown parquet floor.

“Don’t you go in for decorating your walls?” she asked as she went up to Bastian at the kitchen counter. He was busy unpacking the food that had just been delivered. Behind him was a gigantic kitchen, also lined with white cabinets. He had clearly meant it when he told her white was his favorite color.

“No,” he murmured and turned his attention back to untying the knotted bag handles. Julie looked at his hands. The sight of his many scars still sent a stab through her. With the exception of a small scab, the wound on his thumb had healed, but she wondered if she could ever get used to the idea of him constantly injuring himself.

Bastian gritted his teeth as he continued to try to open the bag, but his fingertips kept slipping on the smooth plastic. Julie had never considered how essential fingernails were until she experienced Bastian’s efforts.

When he noticed her watching him, he took his hands off the bag and rummaged in a drawer for a knife. He opened the bag with a single brutal slash, then brought out two steaming Styrofoam containers. “I hope you like chicken curry.”

“Very much.” Julie sat down on one of the three stools at the counter. He served the food on plates and set one down before her. He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, then came around and sat next to her.

Julie ate a mouthful. The chicken was delicious. “Do you never cook for yourself?”

“To be honest, I don’t particularly enjoy it.”

“Why?”

“It takes time to prepare a really good meal. Spending hours in the kitchen for something that’s gone in ten minutes doesn’t seem like a good return on investment to me.”

“But surely if you’re talking about investment, you have to admit that eating out or ordering takeout every day is a little excessive, don’t you think?”

Bastian took a sip of wine. “Maybe, but if you can afford it and prefer to spend your time on other things, you can allow yourself a certain degree of decadence.”

Julie looked around. His apartment was vast for one person, the furniture and decor looked expensive, and it appeared likely that he employed a house cleaner. He drove an average car, but he might just have kept it for nostalgic reasons.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘if you can afford it’?”

“I’m not a millionaire, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bastian grinned. “But I’m doing well enough that I don’t have to worry about where I get my food.”

“Can a photographer make such a good living?” She had always assumed that people who worked in the arts usually lived at or near poverty level. But that didn’t seem to be the case with him.

“I had a few good years. Lots of work. Lots of profit. I’ve got my studio right here, so I save on the cost of renting one. My work is mainly digital, so all I need is my camera equipment, my laptop, and my expertise,” he explained proudly but without arrogance.

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I also had my share of luck. I happened to approach my clients at the right time, and we developed a sound working relationship that benefits both parties. I’ve also got some of my pictures on sale through various online image banks.”

“Will you show me some of your pictures?”

Bastian laughed. “There are thousands.”

Julie pursed her lips. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Actually, I do.” His mysterious smile aroused her curiosity. She pushed her empty plate aside; Bastian had long since finished.

“Show me.”

Bastian hesitated, but Julie took him by the hand and dragged him off his stool. She let him go first, as she was not sure which of the two doors off his living room led to his studio.

Bastian’s studio gave the impression of pure professionalism. Apart from the cables lying in a confused tangle on the table in the center of the room, everything appeared to be meticulously arranged. Bastian walked over to a shallow cupboard and pulled out a suspended document rack.

Julie raised herself impatiently on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder. It seemed that this was where he kept his treasures. He leafed through them until he found what he was looking for, then pulled out a folder and passed an eight-by-ten print to her.

His green eyes displayed so much emotion that it took her breath away for a moment.

She looked at the image and gasped. She did not know what she had expected—perhaps a visual experiment of some kind or one of the anonymous people he’d mentioned he liked to photograph. She had certainly not expected to be looking into eyes that bore such an incredible resemblance to her own.

The big black-and-white photo had captured Luke playing with the other children at the zoo. His hair was ruffled by the wind, and his cheeks were glowing. His brown eyes were shining, and his exuberant laughter exposed the gap in his teeth. He looked so free and happy that she felt tears spring to her eyes. It reflected the essence of carefree childhood.

“Why this one?” she asked softly.

He folded his arms anxiously. “Because it reminds me of a special day.”

Although Julie was hurt that he would not express his true feelings for her, the fact that he had shown this photo to her was enough. For now.

“It’s amazing.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” he asked.

Julie sniffled loudly, then laughed. “Of course not.” She laid the picture aside and hugged him tenderly. “I’d love to have a copy.”

“Consider it done.”

Julie looked up at him. “Will you show me a few more pictures?”

Bastian ran his fingers nervously through his hair. “Some other time, maybe.”

Julie’s shoulders sagged. She would have loved to see more, but she sensed this wasn’t easy for him. She nodded and looked around the room. “So this is where you work.”

“Mostly.”

“What’s all the equipment?”

Bastian moved over to a row of large, flat pieces of variously colored canvas leaning against the wall.

“These are reflectors,” he explained. “They’re used to manipulate the ambient light. Look here.” He picked up one of the reflectors, used it to catch the light from the ceiling, and turned it so that Julie was momentarily blinded by the light.

Bastian showed her some of his other equipment and enthusiastically told her about the various ways they could be used. He found ever more frequent excuses to touch her as he stood behind her and pointed out some new perspective or shift in the light. Each time, Julie’s body reacted with a tingling sensation. Although she had a strong desire to feel him even closer, she held back because she so enjoyed seeing his enthusiasm for his work.

She’d had a long day, however, and could eventually no longer fend off her exhaustion. Bastian noticed her suppressing a yawn and stopped with a frown.

“I let myself get a bit carried away, didn’t I?” he remarked.

“Sorry.” Julie snuggled into his arms. “I could listen to you forever.”

“Because my voice is so soporific?” he teased her gently as he ran a hand down her back.

“No. It’s just that I’d never realized how much technical equipment is involved in taking photos. When I take a picture, it’s mainly to capture a lovely memory. I’m generally satisfied if it’s recognizable. Listening to you, I see why photography is considered an art.”

Bastian laughed. “On that note, I declare your first lesson finished.”

“I look forward to the next one,” she murmured. She pressed her nose against his chest and breathed in his now-familiar scent. Entranced, she raised her head, stood on tiptoe, and planted a series of small kisses around his neck.

It seemed she was not as tired as she’d thought.

“Perhaps it’s time to move on to another field of study?” she whispered in his ear. She chided herself for the cliché, but Bastian didn’t seem put off by it. He ran his hand firmly down her back and settled it on one buttock before lowering his face to receive her kiss. She moaned as their lips met.

She slowly lowered her hand to explore beneath his sweater. She stroked his warm skin lightly with her fingertips. Bastian stiffened but didn’t pull away. She waited until he relaxed, then ran her hand upward until her fingertips were dancing lightly over his back. As she skimmed over the slight irregularities on his skin, the painful realization dawned on her that these must be scars. She hadn’t noticed them before.

She tentatively ran her fingers farther up his back, stopping when she reached something strange—could it be artificial?—on his shoulder blade. It felt like a piece of film stuck to his back and was at least the size of her hand.

Uncertainly, she drew back.

“What’s that?” she asked, increasing the pressure of her fingers to indicate what she meant.

Bastian frowned. Suddenly, all traces of desire vanished from his eyes. “No more.”