Julie's Butterfly (17 page)

Julie took a drink and frowned. “More tequila than sunrise.”

Pascal laughed. “So how are you doing these days?”

Julie chatted with him for a while, and other acquaintances came up and joined in their conversation. Gabriel and Isabelle disappeared at some point onto the balcony. The men joked exuberantly and flirted for all they were worth. Julie was amused, but kept her distance.

When Isabelle reappeared, her eyes were sparkling with a telltale gleam.

“If I may just take this young lady away for a moment,” she said, interrupting the men with a giggle, unfazed by their disappointed grumbling. “Don’t bother. This pretty face is already spoken for.”

She dragged Julie past the kitchen, and they sank onto a sofa that had just been freed up.

“My feet are killing me,” she groaned with a laugh, sucking on her straw before giving Julie a scornful look. “It seems a certain person’s inundated with admirers this evening.”

“I just wanted to be sociable. You know I’m interested in someone else.”

“I do know,” sighed Isabelle. She raised her eyebrows. “If I had a sexpot like that sitting at home, they wouldn’t interest me either.”

Julie grinned.

“Is his ass as hot naked as it is in jeans?”

“It feels really good.”

“I knew it,” she squealed in delight. “And I bet he’s got a nice six-pack to boot, am I right?” Isabelle nudged her and closed her eyes dreamily at the thought.

She knew he was in good shape, but did he have a six-pack? Julie frowned in concentration. It was probably due to the alcohol—there was no other way Julie could explain how the words slipped past her lips. “I’ve got no idea,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Isabelle.

“It means that I’ve got no idea what the man looks like naked,” repeated Julie.

Isabelle froze. “You’re pulling my leg.” She studied Julie’s face for a sign that this was a bad joke but couldn’t find one. “How in the world have you managed that?”

“We’ve only been together at night,” said Julie. She sucked on her straw; perhaps the cold drink would help her swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

“Don’t you have lights at your place?” snorted Isabelle. She eyed Julie like a protective tigress. “Tell him you’re not going to take any more of this nonsense. Right now.”

“You don’t understand,” mumbled Julie.

“Something’s not right here. I can feel it. No man would refuse to watch his partner in bed unless he’s got a screw loose.”

Julie bit her lower lip.

“My God,” exclaimed Isabelle. “The man’s using you. Maybe he’s imagining you’re someone else!”

The thought made Julie feel a bit sick, though she knew it was nonsense. She might not be sure of his feelings, but she was thoroughly aware of the effect she had on him. She shook her head energetically.

“You’re so wrapped up in this guy that you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Isabelle took a deep breath, then placed her free hand on Julie’s knee. “Julietta,” she said urgently, “that kind of behavior isn’t normal.”

Julie rubbed her face in frustration.

“He’s embarrassed,” she said finally. It had been right in front of her eyes all the time, but she had only just realized it.

“Why in the world should that guy be embarrassed? It simply doesn’t make sense.”

Julie looked up from her glass. She could see her hopeless expression reflected in Isabelle’s expanded pupils. “You remember what I told you about Felix’s disease?” she asked softly. “He’s not the only one who suffers from it.”

Isabelle’s face turned ashen. “The gloves,” she murmured as it dawned on her.

Julie nodded and turned back to her cocktail to wash down the shock of her own betrayal. She felt cruel for revealing Bastian’s secret. She hadn’t meant to. She trusted Isabelle to be fine around him, but her conscience still nagged at her.

“I’ve tried to be patient and understanding,” said Julie. “But I’m simply not getting through to him. He just keeps pushing me away.”

Isabelle snorted. “Patience was never one of your strengths. Perhaps you should try a different tactic.”

“Any recommendations, Doctor Freud?”

“Tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re head over heels in love with him and he’s got to learn to trust you.”

“Great idea,” Julie remarked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Isabelle studied her, then sighed. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Julie felt too drained to respond. In any case, she had already said too much. She let her head fall limply onto the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Perhaps she should go home. Her good mood had evaporated, the room was beginning to spin, and she suddenly felt incredibly tired. She longed for Bastian. Although she knew it should be the other way around, his warmth was always a comfort to her. She could use that warmth and comfort right now.

“Ah, there you are,” said a voice she recognized. She felt a dull thump as someone sat down in Isabelle’s place. She opened her eyes.

“Hey, Pascal.”

“I thought you were coming back to us.” His blue eyes looked at her with concern. “Everything OK?”

“Yes. Absolutely fine.”

Pascal laughed. “I had a girlfriend who used to say that. But I eventually learned that whenever she claimed things were absolutely fine, it meant nothing was.”

His words provoked a crooked grin from Julie. “Ah, well, they soon will be.”

Pascal laid an arm along the sofa back. “If you want to talk, I’m a good listener.”

Julie couldn’t be sure if his offer was entirely selfless. “There’s someone else,” she said, hoping that would be enough to make his chances perfectly clear.

“Understood.”

Isabelle appeared and passed Julie a glass of water. Julie took it gratefully and gulped it down. Isabelle looked at her with concern. “I only want what’s best for you, you know.”

“I know,” she replied with a smile.

Isabelle gave Julie an encouraging nod, turned, and disappeared back into the crowd.

Julie watched her go, then shrugged and looked at Pascal. “What happened with your girlfriend?”

“Like I said, whenever I asked her if everything was all right, she nodded and said everything was absolutely fine,” he said. “Naive as I was, I believed her. But things weren’t fine. She thought she was doing me a favor by not saying anything—giving me my freedom. I thought she wasn’t interested in the slightest in what I did, so it was OK to carry on as I was.”

“That’s what you believed?” Julie asked, amazed.

“If someone never questions what you do, you start to assume it’s got to be right, don’t you?”

“Just because she knew you’re someone who loves his freedom and she didn’t want to put pressure on you, it doesn’t necessarily mean she liked what you were doing,” she protested.

“If she’d only told me she didn’t like the way I behaved, I might not have felt like it was all the same to her. At the end of the day, her tolerance got us nowhere. In fact, just the opposite,” said Pascal. “There’s a fine line between being considerate and losing sight of yourself.”

Julie stared at him, thunderstruck. Was she perhaps taking Bastian’s feelings into account too much?

“In any case, it didn’t work out. It’s too bad, but not the end of the world.” He regarded Julie inquisitively. “So what’s your problem?”

“I never said I had one.”

Pascal leaned toward her and tapped her on the nose. “But it’s plain for all to see.”

Pascal suddenly disappeared from her field of vision. Julie blinked in surprise. It was a moment before she realized that someone had pulled her roughly up from the sofa.

“Hey, calm down, man,” she heard Pascal shouting. “Julie, do you know this guy?”

Julie looked up, her reaction slowed by her drink. “Bastian?” Her heart leapt at the sight of him.

His eyes locked on Pascal. He radiated an arctic chill. His jaw worked dangerously, and his hands clenched into fists.

“Julie?” Pascal asked with alarm, taking a step back.

“Yes, I know him. It’s fine,” she said. She turned to Bastian. “What are you doing here?”

“Isabelle called me,” he growled.

Julie glanced around the room and realized that people had broken off their conversations to watch them. Isabelle was standing near Gabriel, waving cheerfully. Julie groaned angrily.

“I think I’d better take you home,” said Bastian through gritted teeth, placing his hand on her back and pushing her toward the door. His touch was gentle enough despite the tense way he carried himself. A shudder ran through her body.

Given his outraged expression, Julie thought it wise not to argue. Besides, she was exhausted. She gave Pascal an apologetic look and smiled sheepishly at her friends as they headed out the door.

“How much have you had to drink?” Bastian asked as Julie tripped down the steps.

“Oh, you know,” she giggled indignantly. The world around her grew fuzzy, and she stopped, swaying. She snuggled into his arms. “I so wanted to see you today,” she mumbled into his coat.

She felt Bastian relax a little, although he still seemed enraged. “Come on, now. I’m taking you home.” He led her to his car, helped her into the passenger seat, and fastened her seat belt before getting in himself. He switched the radio on, and they heard the newscaster announce that it was a little after two in the morning.

Julie watched him thoughtfully as he drove. He was looking straight-ahead, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Oh, yes, he was definitely still angry.

“Did you get any sleep?” she asked in a small voice.

“I was still up working.”

“I didn’t know Isabelle had your number,” she remarked.

“She doesn’t. She called me from your phone.”

“The little rat,” murmured Julie with an affectionate smile. That was why she’d rushed off to the bathroom. “What did she say to you?”

Bastian hesitated a moment. “That I ought to come and pick you up,” he replied curtly. If she knew Isabelle that would not be the half of it, but if he didn’t want to spit it out, so be it.

She folded her arms defiantly and stared out the window. She hated it when he put up this icy facade, when it was impossible to get near him. She was so annoyed by his obstinacy that she got hiccups.

He maintained a stubborn silence the rest of the way home, which was fortunately only a few minutes and thirty-seven hiccups—she counted them—away. Once he’d parked the car, he ran around to open the door for her. She climbed out without taking the helping hand he offered her and set her chin proudly. “I’m fine.”

She marched straight up to her front door. It took her a little while to fish the key from her purse, which was not made any easier by Bastian watching her like a hawk. The next challenge was to try and fit the tiny key into the even tinier lock. The steadier she tried to keep her hands, the more they shook.

“Let me do it,” Bastian said impatiently. Once they got inside the building and up to her apartment, she turned expectantly to him.

His green eyes flashed with anger. “Do you have any aspirin?”

“Mirrored cupboard. Bathroom.”

He left, rummaged briefly, and returned with two tablets. Then he went into the kitchen, got a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, and dropped the tablets into it. The fizzing was the only sound in the room as he handed it to her. “Drink.”

She gulped the water down until the gurgling in her stomach told her to stop. She set the glass down on the dining table and looked up at him impatiently. He simply stood there, silently boiling with rage as he studied her with narrowed eyes. They stared at each other like that for a while, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

“OK, that’s enough,” said Julie, throwing her hands up in resignation. “Why are you so angry?”

Bastian took a deep breath. “When a man’s called in the middle of the night, is asked to come get his drunk girlfriend at a party, and gets there to find her snuggled up on a sofa with a guy who’s pawing her face, he’s entitled to get mad.”

Julie had to grant that he had a point. But she folded her arms sulkily.

“We’re just friends. He was trying to cheer me up.”

“That’s my job, not his.”

“Not when you’re the reason I need cheering up. Do you think I haven’t noticed the way you always keep me at arm’s length? The way you don’t trust me and hide yourself from me?”

“Don’t you think I have a good reason for it?” he replied angrily, causing them both to flinch. Only the despair in his eyes calmed her frustration.

Julie forced herself to take a few deep breaths so that she could think more clearly. What were they doing here? This discussion was so incredibly stupid. They’d never get anywhere like this.

She moved a step closer to him.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” she asked gently. “What’s the worst that could happen if I saw you as you really are?” She raised a scornful eyebrow in an attempt to defuse the situation with a joke. “Or do you think I’ll run screaming at the sight of you like some blonde in a horror film?”

She laughed softly because the idea struck her as so ridiculous. He was no monster just because he had scars and injuries, and she would never do anything so silly and coldhearted. But it was a moment before she realized Bastian had not joined in with her laughter. His somber expression killed Julie’s laughter. She looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that he hadn’t understood her joke, but he had.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, stepping back from him. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Not like in a horror film,” he protested quietly.

Julie tried to see the good in this—at least he’d told her the truth—but his confession almost ripped the ground out from beneath her feet. She turned away, shocked, unable to look him in the eye a moment longer. She gazed out the window at a chestnut tree that was coming into bloom. She tried to steady herself by focusing on a branch lit up by the streetlamp. It swam before her eyes, and a prickling in her nose announced tears that she could only hold back with effort.

She was stunned to realize she had been wrong. Bastian’s problem was not that he was embarrassed, although that was perhaps part of it. Her zombie film comparison may have been taking it a bit far, but he was basically confirming what she had long feared: that he spent every moment thinking that she would turn her back on him in disgust at the sight of him. That was why he had never ceased to be alert, had never really dropped his guard.