Chapter 2 - The Photograph in the Drawer
Julian did not sleep.
At one fifteen in the morning, he was still standing beside the fireplace.
At two, he sat in the leather chair opposite the empty mantel.
At three thirty, the Christmas tree automatically dimmed.
At four ten, Marcus called.
Julian rejected the call.
That alone would have shocked everyone who knew him.
Julian Cross answered calls.
Always.
He answered at weddings, board meetings, funerals, airports, private dinners, even once in the recovery room after having his appendix removed.
People relied on him because he never disappeared.
Yet as darkness slowly faded outside the windows, Julian found himself staring at a drawer.
The photograph was inside.
He knew it without opening it.
Kate placed things carefully when she was hurt.
She did not smash.
She did not throw.
She withdrew.
Julian finally crossed the room and opened the drawer.
Their wedding portrait lay facedown.
He turned it over.
Three years earlier.
Lake Como.
Kate’s veil caught in the wind just as the photographer pressed the shutter.
She had laughed.
Julian remembered refusing every posed photograph afterward because that accidental one was the only picture he wanted.
“You’re not even looking at the camera,” his mother had complained.
“I married Kate,” he had replied. “Not the photographer.”
Back then, making Kate his priority had seemed effortless.
So when had it become something he only said?
A sound from upstairs made him look toward the staircase.
Footsteps.
Julian returned the photograph to the drawer but left it faceup.
Kate appeared twenty minutes later.
Her hair was tied loosely behind her head.
She had changed into black maternity leggings and a cream sweater.
No makeup.
No jewelry except her wedding ring.
Julian stood immediately.
She stopped halfway across the room.
“You’re still awake.”
“So are you.”
“The baby disagrees with sleeping.”
His eyes lowered automatically to her stomach.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Should I call Hayes?”
“Julian.”
His jaw shut.
There it was again.
His instinct to summon someone.
Fix something.
Manage something.
Kate walked toward the kitchen.
Julian followed.
“I can make breakfast.”
She opened the refrigerator.
“It’s five thirty.”
“I know.”
“Do you cook now?”
“I can learn.”
Despite herself, Kate almost smiled.
Almost.
Julian noticed.
It gave him hope too quickly.
He moved closer.
“We should talk.”
She took out a bottle of water.
“We did.”
“No. You talked. I defended myself.”
“At least you noticed.”
The words were not cruel.
That somehow made them worse.
Julian leaned against the counter.
“Tell me everything.”
Kate twisted off the cap.
“You won’t like it.”
“I didn’t ask whether I’d like it.”
“You’ll try to solve it.”
“I probably will.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want to talk.”
He breathed slowly.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Listen.”
He nodded.
Kate studied him as if deciding whether he was capable of it.
Then she pulled out a chair.
Julian sat opposite her.
The kitchen was usually full of movement.
Staff.
Coffee.
Phones.
Plans.
Now there was only the low hum of the refrigerator and snow beyond the windows.
Kate placed both hands around her water bottle.
“Do you remember my birthday last year?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
“October fourth. We had dinner at Perrault.”
“No.”
Julian frowned.
“We did.”
“We had reservations.”
His memory shifted.
A call.
His mother.
A disagreement involving his cousin Adrian and a hotel investment.
He had stepped outside.
Then driven uptown.
Kate had stayed at the restaurant.
“I came back.”
“Two hours later.”
His mouth tightened.
“You were gone when I got there.”
“I was pregnant.”
Julian stared at her.
Kate gave a sad smile.
“Not this pregnancy.”
The room changed.
He leaned forward.
“What?”
“I was six weeks.”
Julian’s face lost color.
“You never told me.”
“I was going to tell you at dinner.”
He said nothing.
Kate continued quietly.
“I had a little box in my purse. Inside was a pair of socks so small they barely covered my palm.”
Julian looked at her hands.
“I waited forty minutes before ordering.”
“Kate—”
“You said you had to help your mother.”
“She said Adrian was about to sign—”
“I know what she said.”
Julian stopped.
Listen.
Kate looked down.
“By the time you came back, I had started bleeding.”
Every muscle in his body went rigid.
“What?”
Her eyes filled.
“I went home.”
“You went home?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Kate looked up.
“I did.”
Julian’s face changed.
Once.
Twice?
He searched his memory.
His phone had been on silent during the meeting with Adrian.
There had been calls.
He remembered seeing Kate’s name afterward.
He had texted: Everything okay? I’m almost done.
His stomach turned.
“I lost the pregnancy the next morning.”
Julian stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
Kate flinched.
He froze.
His hands curled at his sides.
“You told me it happened before you knew.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because when you finally came home, you were so relieved Adrian hadn’t signed the contract.”
Julian closed his eyes.
A memory returned.
Kate lying on the bed.
Pale.
He had kissed her forehead.
She had said she had cramps.
He had asked whether she wanted Dr. Hayes.
She had said no.
He had taken a shower.
Then answered another call.
“Oh God.”
The whisper sounded unfamiliar coming from him.
Kate wiped beneath one eye.
“I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t protect me from that.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Julian walked several steps away.
His chest felt too tight.
“You miscarried alone because I was fixing a business problem for Adrian.”
“The miscarriage wasn’t because you left.”
“That is not what I said.”
“I know.”
“You were alone.”
“Yes.”
“And I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
He turned sharply.
“Why?”
Her answer nearly destroyed him.
“Because I knew you’d be devastated for two days.”
Julian went still.
“And then someone would call.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Kate looked down at her hands.
“I hated myself for thinking that.”
“You should have hated me.”
“No.”
“Kate.”
“No.”
She stood carefully.
“That’s the problem. I kept finding excuses for you because every individual reason sounded reasonable.”
Your mother needed help.
Vivien was scared.
Adrian made a mistake.
The office had a crisis.
Marcus needed authorization.
Someone’s child was sick.
A friend needed protection.
A board member needed advice.
One by one, every emergency was legitimate.
Together, they had consumed their marriage.
“Why did you stay?” Julian asked.
Kate looked honestly surprised.
“Because I love you.”
He had expected almost anything except that.
“You still do?”
“Yes.”
Julian took one step toward her.
She lifted a hand.
“Love is not the same thing as being okay.”
He stopped.
Kate touched her stomach.
“This baby changed something.”
His gaze dropped to where their child moved beneath her sweater.
“I kept imagining what our life would look like after she’s born.”
“She?”
Kate’s eyes widened slightly.
Julian stared.
“You said she.”
A complicated expression crossed her face.
Then she sighed.
“I found out last week.”
He swallowed.
“We’re having a daughter?”
“Yes.”
Joy struck him first.
Pure and immediate.
Then pain followed behind it.
“You found out last week.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I tried.”
His hope died.
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
Julian searched his memory.
Tuesday.
Breakfast.
Kate had come into his study carrying an envelope.
His mother had called.
Vivien needed someone to review a property agreement.
He had taken the call.
“I told you I’d come find you in ten minutes.”
“You came upstairs three hours later.”
His voice dropped.
“I forgot.”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
Kate walked around the table.
“I’m not telling you these things to punish you.”
“They feel like punishment because I deserve them.”
“I’m telling you because you asked.”
Julian opened his eyes.
“Tell me the rest.”
“There’s more?”
Kate looked at him for several seconds.
Then she laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Oh, Julian.”
He felt sick.
“How much more?”
“Three years.”
He braced both hands against the counter.
“Then give me three years.”
She shook her head.
“You won’t survive three years before breakfast.”
“Try me.”
Kate looked toward the snow.
“All right.”
She told him about the charity gala where he had disappeared before their dance because his uncle needed a driver.
The prenatal appointment he had missed two months earlier because Vivien had called about Ethan’s finances.
Their anniversary dinner when Julian’s mother had invited herself because she “didn’t want to eat alone.”
The weekend in Vermont that became a family retreat after Julian told everyone where they were staying.
The Saturday morning Kate had asked him to help choose paint colors for the nursery.
Julian had promised.
Then Adrian’s lawyer called.
By the time he came upstairs, Kate had painted half the samples herself.
“She needed you.”
His mother.
His sister.
His cousin.
His uncle.
His employees.
His friends.
Every story ended with someone needing Julian.
Finally Kate looked at him.
“I think you like being needed.”
The accusation struck deeper than any of the others.
Julian straightened.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Maybe.”
“You think I enjoy emergencies?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Kate considered him.
“I think you know exactly who you are when someone needs saving.”
Julian said nothing.
“But when everything is quiet,” she continued, “when there’s nothing to fix, and somebody just wants you to sit beside them…”
She swallowed.
“…you don’t know what to do.”
The truth arrived without mercy.
Julian had grown up in chaos.
His father had died when he was sixteen.
His mother had collapsed emotionally afterward.
Vivien had been eleven.
Bills.
Lawyers.
Family disputes.
Businesses suddenly without leadership.
Julian had become necessary because necessity left no room for grief.
He fixed the broken lock.
He talked Vivien through nightmares.
He learned balance sheets.
He negotiated debts.
He sat beside his mother when she cried.
By twenty-five, he had turned the family company into something larger than his father had ever imagined.
Being needed had saved Julian from ever having to ask what he needed.
Then he met Kate.
She had never needed his money.
Never needed his name.
Never needed rescuing.
She had simply wanted him.
And somehow that had become easier to postpone.
His phone vibrated.
Both of them looked at it.
MOTHER.
Julian stared at the screen.
Kate’s face became unreadable.
The phone continued vibrating.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Julian turned it over.
For the first time in years, he let his mother’s call go unanswered.
Kate did not smile.
She did not thank him.
She simply watched.
A voicemail appeared.
Then another call came immediately.
Julian’s eyes stayed on Kate.
“Answer it,” she said.
“No.”
“It could be important.”
“So could this.”
Something moved in her expression.
Before either could speak again, the landline rang.
Then Julian’s second phone.
Then Kate’s phone lit up on the table.
EVELYN CROSS.
Julian stared.
His mother almost never called Kate directly.
Kate looked at him.
The phone stopped.
Then a message appeared.
Kate’s eyes lowered.
Julian saw her expression change.
“What did she say?”
Kate didn’t answer.
“Kate.”
Slowly, she turned the screen around.
The message contained only one sentence.
Tell Julian to stop behaving like a child and answer me. Vivien has caused enough trouble, and you should know better than to make Christmas morning about yourself.
Julian read it twice.
Then a third time.
Kate quietly locked the screen.
“See?”
Her voice was almost gentle.
“This is what I mean.”
Julian looked toward the stairs.
Toward the room where their daughter’s nursery waited unfinished.
Toward the house he had bought for Kate and somehow allowed everyone else to occupy.
His phone rang again.
This time Julian answered.
“Mother.”
Evelyn began immediately.
“Finally. I need you to come over before breakfast because Vivien—”
“No.”
Silence.
Julian had refused powerful men with less effect.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Julian, don’t be ridiculous.”
He looked at Kate.
She stood completely still.
“I’m with my wife.”
“So?”
The single word changed everything.
Julian’s expression hardened.
“So you’ll handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“Whatever made you call.”
“Vivien is upset.”
“She has security.”
“She needs family.”
Julian’s eyes did not leave Kate’s.
“Yes.”
He spoke slowly.
“She does.”
Kate’s breath caught.
“So does my wife.”
Then Julian Cross ended the call.
For perhaps the first time in his adult life, he had chosen Kate before hearing the emergency.
But when he looked at her, he understood immediately that one unanswered call could not erase three years.
Kate picked up her water.
“I’m going upstairs.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
The word hurt.
But this time Julian nodded.
“Okay.”
She took two steps.
Then stopped.
“Julian?”
“Yes?”
“If you’re serious about listening…”
“I am.”
“Then ask Marcus what happened last March.”
Julian frowned.
“What happened last March?”
Kate looked back at him.
“He knows.”
Then she walked upstairs.
Julian stood alone in the kitchen.
Five minutes later, he called Marcus.
His lieutenant answered on the first ring.
“Sir?”
“What happened last March?”
There was silence on the other end.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Julian’s blood went cold.
“Marcus.”
His oldest friend exhaled.
“I wondered when Mrs. Cross would finally tell you.”
Julian gripped the phone.
“Tell me what?”
Marcus hesitated.
And when he finally spoke, Julian understood that the photograph in the drawer was only the beginning.
“Sir… last March, Mrs. Cross left the estate for three days.”
Julian went motionless.
Because he remembered that week perfectly.
Kate had told him she was visiting her friend in Connecticut.
He had believed her.
Marcus continued.
“She wasn’t in Connecticut.”
“Where was she?”
“At St. Vincent’s.”
Julian’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
May you like
Marcus’s voice became quiet.
“Because she collapsed.”
