Page 72 of Reflections of Peonies
Julian didn’t miss a beat in his reply. “That moment has passed. Why don’t you go downstairs and let the others know that Bianca will be ready to leave soon?”
“Do it yourself,” Miles replied, the humor dropping from his expression. He crossed his arms, scowling. “Your chicken legs could use some building up.”
Julian’s frown deepened, “I—”
I’d been following the banter silently but felt obligated to interject. Bullying wasn’t nice, and Miles was being unkind. “I like Julian’s legs.”
I suddenly became the center of attention as Miles and Julian stared at me. Their amused—and slightly horrified—expressions made me flush. I hugged Julian’s shirt against my chest.
“I thought he was a model when we first met,” I explained, hiding my warm face behind the clothes.
Julian’s face turned from bewilderment to contemplation, and he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You did mention that before.”
“She did?” Miles turned to Julian, gasping. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because that’s between us!” Julian’s cheeks darkened.
I glanced between them, not sure why Miles seemed so happy. “It’s a compliment,” I explained.
“I know,” Julian replied. He returned to me and placed my pleated navy skirt in my arms over his shirt. “Thank you, darling. Why don’t you get changed? Everyone is waiting downstairs.”
The two of them waited while I went into the bathroom to dress. A gold-gilded mirror was over the marble sink, and I studied my reflection.
My skin was paler than usual, and my hair was a mess around my shoulders, the untamed curls brushing against my hips. My skirt reached mid-thigh, and Julian was so much taller than me that his shirt fit me like a dress, only allowing for inches of the navy fabric to peek through.
I bunched up the long sleeves to my wrists and touched thetop of the neckline. Thankfully, this way, no one could tell that I was heavily bandaged.
I exited the bathroom.
My attention lingered on the golden doorknob as Miles suddenly flounced toward me. “You’re finally ready!” he said, and I jumped as he grabbed my arm. “It felt like you were in there forever!”
“Don’t scare her,” Julian said. He was sitting cross-legged on my comforter but didn’t look up from his phone as he chastised Miles.
Miles made a quick motion back at him but turned back to me. “Sorry,” he said, the smile fading from his lips. “Did I scare you?”
I’d been startled, and my heart was still slowing. But Miles could never scare me.
“No,” I whispered. “You’re too cuddly. It’s impossible to be scared of you.”
“Cuddly?” Miles released me and touched his stomach. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I blinked at him before glancing at Julian, who was now watching us warily.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. Was he feeling left out because I complimented Julian’s legs?
“You’re cute,” I said. My face warmed at the admission. But it was my job to help Miles be the best version of himself. Gentle encouragement and affection were desperately needed.
“You’re soft and gentle,” I told him. “It’s adorable.”
“I’m soft?” Miles sounded horrified, lifting his shirt. He poked at his six-pack, frowning deeply. “But—”
“Oh, just stop.” Julian moved elegantly to his feet. He stopped in front of Miles, snatched the edge of his shirt, and pulled it back over his stomach. “She’s talking about your personality.”
“That doesn’t make it any better!” Miles’s cheeks turned pink, and he seemed unable to meet my eyes. “I’m tough!”
“You’re not tough; you’re nurturing,” Julian corrected, giving me a pointed look. I nodded.
Did I hurt his feelings? How was I supposed to know this was a sensitive topic?
