Julianne pushed the stroller toward the line of shops housed in refurbished warehouses lining the Cape Fear River. Clearly, she needed to talk to someone who’d know what was going on. She punched up Carly’s contact on her iPhone, but it went straight to voice mail. Not bothering to leave a message, she hung up and contemplated who else she could get information from. Annabeth? But Will’s mother was as aloof as her son, blending into the woodwork whenever she was in the house. Julianne still didn’t have a good read on her mother-in-law, and it seemed like the woman wanted to keep it that way.
The beat of a loud bass interrupted Julianne’s thoughts. She looked through the large picture window beside her and there stood Brody Janik, looking like he was posing for a deodorant ad inside the Ship’s Iron Gym. Brandi, the one-woman welcoming committee of Chances Inlet, was adoringly admiring his form as he hefted a dumbbell.
Brody was Will’s teammate, which meant they probably had some sort of locker room code about not snitching on the other, but if she kept her questions vague enough, she might be able to find out what exactly was going on and how it impacted Will. Believing it was worth a shot, she maneuvered the stroller into the lobby of the gym. The music was loud and Julianne worried it might wake Owen. She’d stay only a minute, she decided, pulling the blanket over his ears.
Being the wife of a celebrity had its perks. The college-aged kid at the desk let her in without having to produce proof of membership. He even asked if she’d need daycare for “the little guy.” Not without earplugs, she wanted to say. Instead, she shook her head and asked if he wouldn’t mind fetching Brody for her, gesturing to the sleeping baby in the stroller.
Brody was by her side instantly, wiping his concerned face with a towel. “Hey, what’s up?” He peeked at Owen, still asleep. “Do you need me to get Will?”
“Will’s here?”
Darn! Darn! Darn. Of course Will was here. He was a stickler for his routine and he always worked out this time of the morning. Suddenly, she felt ridiculous letting her brother’s comments get to her.
Will wasn’t a monster. He played an aggressive game, and sometimes people got hurt. Off the field, he was cool and composed. She only had to conjure up the picture of his big hand on Owen’s back this morning as the two slept to know Will was gentle and protective. That same hand had rubbed her back during Owen’s transfusion. Not to mention how he had comforted her during the storm that night of the wedding. She took a deep, calming breath. Her brother was being ridiculous; she and Owen were perfectly safe sharing a house with Will.
Brody cocked his head, his look quizzical. “Julianne?”
She had to think fast. Wistfully, she remembered the half-finished sketch in the stroller. Julianne wasn’t sure if she could finish the design, but she felt like the final image was just beyond her fingertips and she needed something to help her reach it.
“No, I don’t need Will. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind texting me the photo of your sister and her fiancé? I—I might have some ideas about a gown.”
“It’s okay, Julianne,” he said softly, his tone laced with empathy. “I have four older sisters. Two of them have kids. After each pregnancy, it took them a while to return to being . . . themselves again.” He put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Don’t push yourself. My sister understands.”
She felt the tears threatening. Her emotions were in such a tangle this morning. Maybe he was right and this was some sort of postpartum depression. But if she was going to get back to being herself—Julianne Marchione, fashion designer to the rich and famous—she needed to finish this design.
Something about the compassion on Brody’s face made her admit her deep secret. “I haven’t been able to sketch much of anything for a while, but I started something this morning and I’d like to see if I can finish it. It might not even be something your sister wants, but . . .”
Brody grinned at her, his cover-boy smile lighting up his face. “Atta girl! I won’t say anything to Tricia unless you tell me to. You just take your time.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”
Julianne gave it to him, and within seconds her phone beeped in response. The emotional roller coaster she was riding was on the upswing, because she felt more optimistic than she had in a long time. Until, of course, her husband’s voice boomed behind her.
“Are you crazy? Owen will go deaf in this place! What’s he doing in here?”
If Brody was all-American gorgeous, Will was pure Norse gladiator. Despite the fact that both men were nearly the same height, Will’s presence loomed larger in the room, more commanding. His hair stood up on end from where he’d run sweaty fingers through it during his workout, and his perspiration-soaked shirt stuck to this body, outlining his well-muscled chest. He was the picture of a virile, conquering male. One who was also angry.