Chapter 75

• Julian frowned in his sleep as his hands moved over the bed, searching for Leslie's soft figure to cradle. He opened his eyes slowly and sighed—she wasn't in bed… again. Knowing exactly where to find her, he threw on a T-shirt, his muscular biceps straining against the fabric as he walked out all the way to the back of the manor. There she was, on the huge bench under the red oak tree, looking at the lake silently.
• The sun had just risen, giving her fair, spotless skin a sheen of golden hue that made Julian think she was just an illusion—a beautiful angel walking among mortals. He took in her expression and felt heartache. She'd been like that all week. It had been a week since Gregory was flown out to India, a week since she'd touched her paintbrush, a week since she started spending her mornings by this quiet lake, and a week since she'd smiled at him genuinely. She was here, always, but he missed her terribly. She wasn't herself, and Julian thought of himself as a failure—he couldn't shake her out of it. Even Betty had tried her best. It seemed like Leslie was grieving her dad, as if she’d already lost him.
• He stepped forward carefully. She must have heard his footsteps because she turned to him, her pale nightgown flowing with her movement.