Logging on to her computer, she looked up the website for the Cerebral Palsy Foundation. With just a few clicks she found what she was looking for—a solution and a little peace of mind. All she had to do was deposit the money in her account and put the wheels in motion.
She might not get to go to Italy, but she would get the final word.
* * *
This script sucked. Julian could barely stand to continue reading the crap that Ross had couriered over this afternoon. It made Bombs of Fury look like Shakespeare.
A week ago, he would’ve accepted the offer without question, but that was before Gretchen had gotten under his skin. She’d planted those seeds of hope that he could have a serious acting career, then turned around and poured gasoline on the buds as they broke through the earth. Ross and his publicist were already scrambling to shift attention away from James and find a way to suppress the story without making it look as if Julian was embarrassed of his brother. He was anything but. He just didn’t want press camped outside the Hawthorne Community or reporters pressing Julian for a sob story. He’d already gotten a call from Oprah to share his secret pain.
Despite Ross’s assurances that it was the right path to take, Julian didn’t want to share his secret pain. He wanted to keep his brother out of the spotlight, and he’d failed when he’d spilled his guts to Gretchen. He’d trusted her. Those big brown eyes had pleaded with him to confide in her. Then she’d turned around and stabbed him in the back just like all the others. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
He tossed the offensive script onto the kitchen table and shook his head. He’d do it. He knew he would. But he’d loathe himself even more than he already did. Getting up from the table, he planned to march into the kitchen and make himself a stiff drink when he heard the sound of footsteps on the tile of the entryway.
No one was in the house but Julian. Before he could react, the intruder sauntered around the corner in a crop top and a pair of yoga pants. Bridgette.
“What the hell? How did you get in here?” Julian clenched his teeth at her bold move.
“I still have a key,” she said, swinging her blond ponytail over her shoulder and smiling at him with a sweetness he didn’t trust. She held up a bundle of letters in her hand and set them on the counter. “I brought in your mail. I came by because I heard you were back from the wedding and I wanted to see you.”
She took a step toward him, but Julian stepped backward. He didn’t like this. Bridgette was far too calculating to just pop in to be sociable. “Why?”
Bridgette pouted, her collagen-plumped bottom lip thrusting out. “Because I miss you, Julian. These last few weeks have been really hard on me.”
“We broke up six months ago. Last I saw, you had your tongue down Paul’s throat. You didn’t seem like you were suffering to me.”
She frowned, but the movement didn’t translate to a furrowed brow because of all the Botox she injected. “I was using Paul as a rebound. I was just trying to get over you, and it didn’t work. When I saw those pictures of you and that fat girl, my heart nearly broke. I—”
“Stop,” he interrupted, holding up his hand. Julian might be upset with Gretchen, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else tear her down. He’d lied when he said she hadn’t meant anything to him. It hadn’t been acting, but it was the best thing to say. It convinced her, and him, that there was nothing to fight for. But despite all that, she still meant something to him. More than Bridgette ever had. “Gretchen is a beautiful, smart, sensitive woman that I cared about quite a bit. Be respectful of her or leave.” He preferred she just leave, but he doubted he’d get rid of her that easily.
“Cared for her?” Bridgette whined. “You barely knew her. She must’ve worked hard to get her hooks into you that quickly. I could tell she was up to no good. I knew I had to find a way to get you back.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Gretchen didn’t have hooks, much less ones in me. And even if she did, I don’t need you to save me. If the choice were between the two of you, Gretchen would win.” Even with the media leak and the lies, she was more genuine than Bridgette. In fact, that kind of thing was what he would’ve expected from his ex, which was why he’d never so much as breathed James’s name in her presence.
“How could you still think that way about her after what she did? Selling the story about your brother to the press is just unforgivable.”