“And then she was all, Oh my god who is he, Google him, look him up, blah blah blah.” Julia imitated a frenetic, high-pitched voice and Blake got an instant picture of who Liz was. “Sooooo.” She took a gulp of wine far more sizeable than the sips she’d been enjoying. “I did.”
For a second Blake couldn’t speak. “Wait—you were just like, I don’t really know this guy, and it was your friend who told you to stalk me?”
“I wasn’t stalking you! It’s the internet! Everybody uses it.”
“I didn’t Google you,” he pointed out.
“Maybe you should have. What if everything about me is totally made up? What if I’m actually…I don’t know. A wanted fugitive in the States.”
“Julia.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Nobody makes up being a high school math teacher.”
“That’s why it’s the perfect disguise!”
He shook his head. “Nobody.”
She frowned. “So that’s why I never go on any dates?”
“I find it utterly impossible that you don’t go on any dates.”
“You think I’m lying to you?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one with the built in lie detector.”
“Not lying. Math teacher, no dates.” She paused. “Are you still upset?”
Blake took a deep breath and looked out across the terrace to the endless ocean outside. Was he? “I thought you—”
“Didn’t trust you?”
He shook his head. “It’s not just that. Well, yeah, it is, but also I thought you wanted to find out if I’m really…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish the thought.
“I’ll admit that when Chris and Jamie were talking about your TV show, I didn’t quite realize that when you said famous, you meant famous. But, uh, I don’t care, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I mean, wait!” she said quickly, choosing her words. “I don’t mean I don’t care, like I don’t care about your life. I mean that the objective state of your fame or lack thereof is of no interest to me, or has no bearing on my interest in you.” She exhaled warily. “Is that better?”
Blake tried to separate out the different strands of thoughts tangled inside him. He was surprised to find that it was nice knowing she’d mentioned him to her friend. It wasn’t like he was a secret, after all, and it meant that even as a fling it had enough significance to warrant a conversation. If she was telling the truth, which she’d given him no reason to doubt, then it had just been curiosity and appeasing a friend’s prurient appetite for detail.
“I felt like it was snooping and told Liz that it was weird,” Julia said softly, lowering her eyes. “But it’s a good thing I looked at your passport that one time because I would have been totally mortified to have been gushing to Liz about you and then been forced to admit I didn’t even know your last name.”
Two pink spots darkened on her cheeks from where her previous flush hadn’t gone down. Blake leaned forward, intrigued.
“Gushing? Do tell.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Josh.” But she stuck out her tongue when she said it.
“I was always Blake growing up, but then when I started writing professionally it was J.B. Williams, so I became known by my first name instead.” Blake shrugged like it had just happened, but actually he’d made a conscious choice to create his public persona as Joshua, the first name he never used. When he became Josh Williams, it felt like the real him, the one who had always been and would always be Blake, was still the same inside, no matter where his career went.
It had wound up being a blessing to have that extra layer separating who he was inside from the man he was to everyone else. When the acclaim started rolling in, it was weird to read about this Josh guy who was sort of like him, but also sort of not. And when everything in the tabloids was about the Josh who’d been cheated on and dumped, turned against by Australia’s favorite celebrity couple both on and off the screen, the one thing that kept him sane was that at least all that was happening to Josh and not him.
It wasn’t really true, of course, but it was also a way to test how well people knew him. If they saw only the celebrity side, they knew Josh. But to his family, his friends, and the people he loved, he was Blake.
To Julia, he would always be Blake.
Their waiter came by and for a minute they were quiet as he refilled their glasses, taking away the empty plate and leaving them the soup to polish off. Julia soaked up the creamy bisque with a slice of bread and Blake followed her lead, splitting the last prawn with his knife for them to share.
“I’m sorry about Liam,” Julia said so quietly Blake thought he’d misheard. It was so not what other people had said to him when they heard about the scandal. He must have looked completely confused because Julia repeated it again. “Your friend, Liam. I’m sorry, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” Blake said slowly, chewing on the last bite of bread. “It did suck.”
He sighed then, deeply. A sigh that, as soon as he let it out, he realized he’d been holding in for months.
“God this wine is good,” Julia mused, taking another sip, and Blake couldn’t help it. It was so ridiculous, he laughed as she put the glass down.
“What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder like maybe she’d missed something funny.
“I just—” Blake shook his head.
“It sucked? This wine is good? What’s so funny?”
“I’ve spent months dealing with the fallout from this, so much so that if I had to hear one more word of fake pity, or commentary on how I must have had it coming, I probably would have done something that would not have reflected favorably upon Australia’s largest TV network. Which was why it was definitely time for me to flee the coop for a while, so to speak. “
“And?”
“And then you come along, and I don’t want to tell you this stuff because God, who wants to talk about it? I nearly had a heart attack when Chris and Jamie started talking that day in the van, like what if they said something incriminating… But you Google me and you find probably the worst, most salacious websites on the planet and all you can say is, Sorry about your friend?” He exhaled again.
“Wrong thing to say?” She furrowed her brow.
“Perfect thing to say.” He smiled warmly, meaning it.
“Friends should be your friends. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“It sounds so simple when you say it.”
“It is,” she said, and the look in her eyes was fierce and protective. She’d said that she’d been friends with Liz since they were kids; he had a feeling that when she was close to someone, she didn’t let them go.
He’d sensed that what they were doing was new to her. But now he felt a warning, too. She’d acted fine with their fling and fine when he said he was leaving for Argentina. This was different, though—whatever it was. He didn’t want her to be hurt when January first came and they were inevitably done.
But he didn’t want to remind her of that. All he said was how lucky Liz was to have Julia in her corner.
Julia made some kind of half-laughing, half-huffing noise that could only be described as a snort, something so out of character for her normally composed features that it made him laugh. “At least the girl knows it,” she said. Blake raised an eyebrow but she didn’t elaborate.
Their main courses arrived, grilled flounder with coconut rice and fried plantains and a spicy fish stew with coconut milk, tomatoes, cilantro, and lime. The fish was fresh and flaked off the bone, the stew rich but still light, balancing sweetness with a spicy kick.
“Remind me again why I live somewhere landlocked,” Julia commented as she pulled apart pieces of fish in the stew to soak up the broth.
“I have no idea,” Blake said, spearing a plantain and passing it to her to try. “I’m a coastal boy, remember?”