I didn’t answer.
He picked up a dish towel. Started drying a glass I’d already dried.
“Because I’ve been patient, Ruby. I’ve been polite. I’ve been doing the very best possible version of ‘supportive ex-husband’ since the second you asked me to be. But I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“Julian—”
“You want me to take custody. You want me to legally adopt her. You’re fielding calls from the DOJ. You had a panic attack in the pew when my daughter waved at someone who clearly wasn’t a stranger. And now you and Natalia are whispering in the kitchen, about something that clearly has you spooked, after you had…a one-night-stand with a window guy who might’ve nearly choked you to death?”
I sighed, already bracing for impact. “Okay. Are you done?”
Julian didn’t move. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, eyes burning. “I’m really not.”
“I can explain,” I said, holding up a hand. “But you have to promise not to freak out. At least for Rosie.”
His jaw tightened. “Oh, I promise no such thing. But I’ll be quiet about it.”
I inhaled deeply, feeling the words lodge in my throat.
But even though it was hard…I told him the truth.
“There was no window guy,” I started. “The cops were supposed to be watching my house the night I won, but they weren’t. Mickey Russell—a convicted felon I put away years and years ago—got out on parole and was looking for me. He broke into the house. He almost killed me.”
Julian’s face went blank for a second. Then his brow furrowed, his arms uncrossing slowly as he took a step closer. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ruby. And where is the police report? Where is the—”
I lifted my hand, cutting him off. “That’s just the beginning of the story.”
He froze. I could see the breath catch in his chest.
“Kieran Callahan was, at the time, stalking me,” I said. “For lack of a better word. He heard what was happening. He came into the house and beat Mickey Russell to death.”
Julian blinked, like he didn’t quite understand the words I’d said. “Excuse me?”
I bit my lip. Hard. “I can’t tell you any more,” I said. “You’re not my attorney, Julian. If I tell you more, I make you complicit. And if someone decides to come after me, they’ll come after anyone who knows enough to hurt.”
Julian’s jaw flexed. He set the dish towel down on the counter—deliberately, like it was the only thing keeping him from slamming his fist through something. His knuckles were white.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said, his voice low and razor-sharp. “You were attacked in the middle of the night by a man you put away, and you let him handle it?”
“I didn’t let anyone handle it,” I snapped. “I was practically unconscious.”
He stared at me then—really stared. His eyes moved over my face like he was trying to read every version of the truth I might be hiding.
“And then what?” he asked, quiet now. “You covered it up?”
“I didn’t cover it up,” I said, barely more than a whisper. “I just…didn’t report it.”
Julian let out a noise—a laugh, maybe, or a sigh. Something bitter and hollow. He turned away from me, dragged both hands down his face, then rested them on the edge of the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“You didn’t report it,” he repeated. “Jesus, Ruby.”
“I panicked,” I admitted. “And I had broken bones, I’d almost been strangled to death and a child coming home to me in the morning. I wasn’t thinking about my career, Julian. I was thinking about our baby having a mom.”
Julian rubbed his temples. “You’ve told Alek?”
“Yes. I retained him as my lawyer.”
“Good,” he said. “Good. He’s a competent lawyer.”
