Read Online Julie's Butterfly by Greta Milán - Free Book Online Page A

a set of concert tickets from her friends. His first great love had been a total disaster, and he made sure it would be his last.
    Of course, he had allowed himself the occasional affair, but the fact that he found most women attractive but not particularly smart made it easy for him to keep his relationships superficial. He never talked to them about himself, they were physical only in the dark, and he never spent the night with them. He had never wanted anything more than that, at least not until now.
    Loneliness was a price he was willing to pay. It seemed cheaper than his vulnerability.
    The phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He didn’t think twice about who could be calling at such a late hour. His stomach tensed painfully as he took the call.
    “Bastian?” Elena’s voice sounded shaky. “Can you come over, please?”
    “How bad is it?” he asked as he slipped into his shoes and grabbed his keys.
    “Pretty bad,” she replied, sniffling.
    “I’m on my way.”

C HAPTER 8
    The following morning, Julie and Bastian started where they had left off the previous evening. The only difference was that Bastian was even more aloof. He looked worn-out, and Julie involuntarily wondered why.
    They only spoke when necessary, and otherwise, a tense silence filled the room. At one point, out of sheer desperation, she even considered singing aloud. The silent monotony was finally broken around noon by the cheerful Sesame Street theme song, a joke from Isabelle. Relieved at the interruption, Julie took her cell phone from her purse.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, honey,” trilled Isabelle.
    “Hey.”
    “Am I interrupting anything?”
    “I’m at the warehouse.”
    “Still?”
    “It turns out my mother has decided to sell off half the contents of the house.” Julie gripped the phone to her ear with her shoulder and maneuvered a box to the table.
    “We can always rely on our dear Louisa for a surprise or two,” remarked Isabelle.
    “You’re telling me.”
    “The reason I’m calling,” said Isabelle, “is that I’ve just had brunch with Elena.”
    Julie froze. “I told you there was nothing more to say on the matter.”
    “His name’s Bastian Colbert.” She giggled exuberantly. “A Frenchman. Isn’t that sweet?”
    “Sweet as syrup,” replied Julie sarcastically. She glanced over at Bastian, praying that he couldn’t hear Isabelle’s loud voice. “But I don’t want to hear another word on the subject.”
    Isabelle seemed to be thinking things over. “It’s just that Elena told me he was very taken with you.”
    Julie huffed in disbelief. She had probably gotten her confused with someone else.
    “Apparently he can be a bit difficult about these things, which might explain why he didn’t express his interest very well,” continued Isabelle.
    “As I’ve said, it doesn’t matter.”
    “So be it. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
    “I’ve got a date with Luke tomorrow.”
    “Honey, you really need to get yourself a date with a suitable man.”
    Julie stole another glance at Bastian, who was fiddling with his camera. There was no doubt that he was a suitable man. Dressed in a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, black gloves, and loose-fitting jeans, he radiated masculinity. She had no intention of discussing her love life with Isabelle within earshot of him. “How was brunch?” she asked instead.
    Isabelle sighed theatrically, accepting defeat. She gave Julie a detailed report of her conversation with Elena, which paintings she had sold, and her schedule for the coming weeks. Julie continued to unpack boxes as she listened. Twenty minutes later, Isabelle announced that she had to go buy some art supplies. Right before hanging up, she took a deep breath.
    “Oh, by the way,” she said cheerfully, “he lives at Three King Street. See you.”
    Julie shook her head and smiled at Isabelle’s persistence. Not that she had the slightest need of his address—he was right there in front of her. But it might come