Julia arched her back. “Suspicious how?”
“He was in Istanbul, chasing a treasure he’d been obsessed with finding for the past six years—a first edition of ‘The Black Tulip’ by Alexandre Dumas—that’s what our shop is named after—so this collector claimed to have not just any first edition, but one that had belonged to Dumas himself.”
“And?”
“My uncle called me the night before he was supposed to meet this collector. He was so excited, Julia. Said it was finally happening, that he could feel it.” Dylan’s voice cracked slightly. “But tomorrow never came. The next day, they found him dead in his hotel room.”
“Oh my God, Dylan,” Julia leaned forward and gave his forearm a gentle squeeze.
“But here’s the thing—the collector vanished. No record of any meeting. No trace of the correspondence that had brought my uncle there. The hotel staff gave conflicting stories about whether he’d had visitors.”
Dylan straightened and faced Julia, his blue eyes glistening. “I flew to Istanbul right away. But the authorities had already closed the case. American businessman, advanced age, natural causes.”
“And that’s not what you think happened?” Julia said.
“I don’t know what to think anymore. This has been consuming in a way that is hard to explain. I haven’t slept through the night for a while.” Dylan’s voice was low and raw. “Maybe it was just a heart attack. Maybe the collector was real but got spooked. Or maybe . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Julia tried searching for the right words. But none came.
“The worst part is not knowing,” Dylan said. “This isn’t just about The Black Tulip. Uncle Tobias was everything to me—mentor, business partner, father figure. He raised me after my father died. And I’ll never know if his obsession with that damn book got the best of him, or if I’m just imagining conspiracies where there are none. You can see why this is not somethingI want to talk about.”
Julia felt tears prick her eyes. “Yes.”
“Especially to you.”
“To me?”
“I joined the wine forum as a distraction. For a while, my uncle’s death was all I could think about. It was pretty rough. Then you came along. From your very first post, I just knew. I knew you were someone who could matter too much. You don’t have to read through a lot of threads to know what’s what. And I loved that about you. I loved that you believe that every scrap of metal, every crumbled brick and dusty pipe could be rearranged into something beautiful. And for a little while, I allowed myself to believe that happiness was possible.”
Julia’s heart ached for him. She looked at him – the grief that had settled on his features the only barrier to his strikingly handsome face.
“Dylan,” she said softly, “I’m so sorry. For your loss, for pushing you when you weren’t ready.”
“Don’t be,” he said, softly. “Julia, you’re so much more than I had ever hoped for.” His touch was gentle when he lifted her chin. Though they had been looking at each other all day, Julia felt this was the first time she felt the full impact of his eyes on her.
“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Julia said.
“I’m glad I did,” Dylan replied. He brought her hand to his lips and started kissing each fingertip slowly, gently, one by one, one at a time, his eyes closed. Julia, too, closed her eyes and thought that if there was a reason to be alive, it was on the chance you’d get to experience a moment like this; a moment where you could feel every feeling: sadness, joy, heartache, hope, relief, and the feeling that the person sitting next to you found you so hard to believe, so much greater than they had ever imagined. She was happy. She was hopeful. Julia thought she might weep.
They left the park, their steps weaving a silent rhythm through the softening light of dusk, hands interlaced as they walked towards Julia’s hotel. The world around them was dissolving, slowly, into hues of gold, and with each shared breath, Julia felt their connection growing. When his fingers tightened around hers, a comforting warmth traveled through her. Life, she thought, was undeniably complex, much of it uncertain. Yet, at this moment, she was grateful to have risked her heart on someone like Dylan Gilbert. He was generous and kind, and more real than she had allowed herself to imagine.
They must have decided at the same time: that they didn’t want this day to end. So they slowed down the pace, holding hands, neither talking for a long while.
Eventually, they reached her hotel. Dylan turned to face Julia, his expression soft in the faint street light.
“Thank you for today,” he said, caressing her cheek. “For taking a chance on meeting me.”
“Thank you for being exactly who I hoped you were,” Julia replied, surprising herself with her candor. Dylan’s lips approached hers slowly, a question mark in his eyes. But as Julia responded, the kiss deepened, his hand cradling her face with exquisite tenderness. Time seemed to hold still as the connection between them transformed yet again; this time, into something deeply intimate. Julia felt slightly breathless, her heart racing with a mixture of desire and wonder, a soft flush rising to her cheeks. Dylan’s eyes were darker now, his gaze intense.
“Dinner tomorrow?” he asked.
“I wish,” Julia replied. “I have an early flight.”
He ran the back of his finger tenderly across her cheek once again, a gesture so affectionate it made Julia’s heart ache. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.
“This isn’t the end, Julia,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver through her.
She nodded, a smile breaking through the disappointment of their farewell. He drew her close for another kiss, a tender, lingering embrace that made Julia wish they could stay here forever. As she watched him walk away into the lamplit night, a feeling close to hope came to her, something she hadn’t experienced in the longest time. Whatever happened next—however they navigated the complexity of distance and separate lives—the connection they had formed was beautifully real.
