The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

for helping me last night, who has impressed me with his cooking, angered me by letting my mother in without asking or waking me, who is still here out of no obligation to me or my family.

I exhale and sip at the steaming, black beverage. Julian places the plates on the island between me and my mother before taking his place next to me. Once more, he embodies an unfamiliar quiet nature. I have to get rid of Eva and my mom, at least long enough to find out what all happened before I woke up.

“Oh, Emma,” my mother starts. Her shrill voice forces me to cringe. Hot coffee runs down my chin. “That stuff will turn your teeth black. Add some milk, won’t you?” she asks. “Besides, you could already use a little whitening before the wedding,” my mother mumbles.

“Oh, Mom, stop,” Eva scolds in her oh-so-innocent way. Julian hands me a paper towel and I dab the hot liquid from my chin.

“Of course, Mom,” I say, turning to face her. “Why don’t you and Eva have a seat in the dining room. I’ll fix you both a plate and we can . . . catch up.” Not that I’m looking forward to it.

My mother’s eyes move to Julian as if they speak an unspoken language. They hold each other’s gaze just long enough for Julian’s body to grow even more tense. Finally, my mother turns on her heel and takes her place at the dining room table. Eva follows behind her.

I exhale and mentally curse my home for its lack of privacy.

“Hey, uh. If you’re alright, I think I should go,” Julian says, resting his back on the island. I do the same and pretend my mother’s eyes aren’t glued to the back of our heads.

“What? No,” I say. My forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why would you leave?” I ask. Well, obviously, he’ll go home, eventually. What I mean is, why does he feel the need to leave right now.

“I just,” Julian starts, then stops. “I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he says, breathing heavy. “I just—I just wanted to make sure you were okay and—”

“Thank you,” I say, cutting him off. He stops. His icy eyes pour into mine. “Thank you for staying, both last night and this morning,” I tell him. “My mother is a piece of work, and you being here, well, let’s just say, she’s on her best behavior.”

“Wow!” he mumbles, eyebrows raised. I bite my lip and contemplate my next question. Do I really want to know?

“Did she . . .? Did she say something to you? You’re abnormally quiet this morning,” I say.

Julian smiles, more to himself than to me.

“I sure am hungry,” my mother comments. “I hope the food doesn’t get cold while you two discuss what to poison the unexpected guests with.”

I roll my eyes. “Funny, Mom.”

Julian turns and starts pilling scrambled eggs and bacon on three plates.

“Come on,” I say, moving my hand to steady his. “What did she say?” I ask, leaning into him to keep my mother from hearing. His eyes move to where my hand touches his. My chest tightens and I pull away. “Sorry, um—”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, his voice low. “And no, quite the opposite actually,” he says, returning to his task of dressing plates. “They came in about half an hour ago, bladders about to burst. Once they determined I wasn’t a burglar or murderer, they went to the restroom to freshen up and directed me to make myself useful. Hints, breakfast,” he reveals with a pained grin. “Your mom has hardly spoken two words to me since.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her watching us. She pretends to listen to my sister as she rambles on about wedding stuff. Her hazel glare nearly burns a hole in the side of my face.

“I . . . um,” I begin, but am unsure what to say. “I’m sorry,” I finally say, though I can’t help but admit I prefer my mother be disinterested in Julian. If she quizzed him, that means she sees him as a potential suitor. And considering my mother still thinks Beaux is my soulmate, she’s the last person whose approval I’ll seek when and if I decide to date again.

“Don’t apologize,” he tells me once more. “Just enjoy your time with your family. Regardless of any past disagreements or tension, which you two clearly have, you only get one family and a limited time together.”

As he speaks, I’m reminded of John and Alyssa Cole, the parents Julian lost two years ago. My heart aches for him.

While my mother may be the reason for Julian’s change in character, it’s not because of something she said. Rather, it’s her presence altogether. Seeing my mom makes him think of his. And while the past between Anne and me is far too complicated to resolve in a single meal or even a single year, maybe I owe it to myself to try, again. If not for me, for Julian.

“I’m going to go,” he says then. “Enjoy your time with your mom. We can talk later.”

Julian says goodbye to Eva and my mom. They mumble “Nice to meet you” and fake pleasantries. I roll my eyes, and just when I think today is destined to be hellacious, Julian leans in and kisses my cheek, soft and sincere. As he pulls away, he takes my breath with him along with any ruse that we’re just friends.

Chapter 12

Two hours into dress shopping and Eva is still spouting wedding details. The ceremony will take place in the Saint Allen Chapel on my great-grandfather’s land where four generations of Marshall’s married, including my mother and father. My mother didn’t speak to me for two weeks when I told her Beaux and I would be married in New Orleans.

The day before will be spent playing couples’ games with a rehearsal dinner in the Marshall House gardens to follow. That’s what people call my home, Marshall House. As if the stately white mansion nestled amongst three-hundred-year-old oak trees needed