Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
He’s waiting for me at the corner when I emerge from the station. His smile flickers when he spots me, but the moment I’m close enough for him to read my face, it vanishes.
I’m tired. My eyes are slightly puffy and red from the tears that were––discretely––shredded on the way home.
“Hey, love,” he says, pulling me into him, one hand cradling my cheek. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Could be better.” My voice is muffled against his cotton shirt. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Can we talk inside?”
He nods, guiding us silently into my apartment. Just saying it out loud feels like pressing on a bruise, but the cards need to be laid out on the table.
“I had a meeting with Jeff today—my boss from L.A.” I sit on the couch. He joins me, pulling my legs into his lap. “He said I’m back on track for the promotion.”
His head turns. “That’s great! So… what’s the problem?”
“He also mentioned that the board knows about my now-public personal life, and it might be an issue.”
“Okay…” He frowns, forehead furrowing. “Might be is not the end of the world. We can tone things down, stay as private as possible.”
“He didn’t say it directly, but I’m positive he meant that if I don’t step away completely from the public eye, I can wave goodbye to leading anything.”
He sets my legs on the floor so he can fully face me. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are stormy.
“So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do? Suddenly, I’m incompatible with your life—a liability?”
I don’t blame him for his reaction. If I’d had the guts to talk back to Jeff, I would’ve said something along those lines.
“This isn’t what I want, either. I’ve been spiraling about it all day, and I don’t know how to make it all work. This promotion… I’ve been chasing it for so long. But you—I…”
My voice breaks. “Before us, the last headline about you was the fight. I think they’ve labeled you a risky presence, and they don’t want that attached to the brand.”
He scoffs. I can tell his hurt by my words.
“You know what’s funny?” he says, standing, pacing in front of the TV. “I never wanted any of this—the money, the press, the fame. All I wanted was to act, to tell stories. That fight? All I did was defend myself.”
“I believe you,” I say, standing too, taking his hands in mine. “But what can I do? They don’t want an explanation. They just want clean optics.”
He sighs. “I get it. You’ve worked your ass off to get here.” He gives me a gentle squeeze. “I’m not angry with you. But I can’t lie and pretend this doesn’t gut me.”
“I know.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Maybe we just need to take the night. Think about everything. About what we want—if it’s worth all this hassle.”
He drops my hands and slips his into his pockets.
“If you want space, I’ll give it to you. But what we have? It’s real. So don’t expect me to give up that easily.”
He steps forward and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Call me if you need anything.”
I nod and watch as he disappears into the hall. The door closes behind him with a weight that settles in my chest.
Letting him go already feels wrong. But my gut is twisted, and I can’t tell if it’s because I might lose him—or because I’d be giving up everything I’ve worked for on a gamble.
Overthinking has wrung me dry. And yes, I’ve tried to scrub a certain British actor from my thoughts. I even vented to Claire over breakfast.
“Are they even allowed to do that?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
“It’s not like they’re firing me. They’re just not promoting me.”
But is it really a choice when my relationship with Harrison is not certain? My phone buzzes, and his name pops up on my screen. We’ve not spoken since he walked out last night.
Harrison
I’m sending the car to pick you up from work today. It’ll take you home so you can change. Wear something nice.
My heart does a quiet somersault.
Did I miss the memo?
Harrison
Consider this your official notice.
Well...
Do I get a say in this?
His reply comes almost instantly.
Harrison
No.
See you later, beautiful.
Nothing else. No details, no explanations. Classic Harrison. He always finds a way to keep me on my toes, to throw my carefully thought-out plan off balance.
In his own unpredictable way, he’s been teaching me how to loosen my grip on the steering wheel.
To breathe.
To trust.
Thanks to him, I’ve been feeling like myself again and less like that restrained person I became when I was with Noah. Is this promotion worth losing that? And if it is—how much am I able to thrive in a company that has such standards?
The car drops me off with an hour to get ready. I dust off a dress I bought with Emma last year—a slinky red satin thing I once deemed too much.
Tonight, it feels just right.
It slides over my skin like confidence in fabric form, soft and sexy. It hugs in all the right places and skims down to my ankles, held up by delicate spaghetti straps.
I was always told red is my color. I never quite believed it until now. Even with faded makeup and unruly hair, it manages to bring out a brightness in me I didn’t have before.
I touch up what I already have, add blush and mascara, and comb through my hair. I swipe on the darkest red lipstick that I own to match the dress. Gold earrings, a thin necklace, and black stilettos—and I’m out the door before I can overthink it.
Arthur is waiting by the curb, leaning on the hood of the glossy black SUV. He opens the door for me with a cordial nod—silent, forever unreadable.
As soon as I’m seated, anticipation spreads through my nervous system. Where is he taking me that I needed to be dressed up? Why the mystery?
I recognize the streets when we’re still quite a way out. We’re heading back into the center. I catch myself bouncing my knee and fidgeting with the zipper on my clutch.
I try to take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t work. I’ve been whispering to myself ‘relax’ for so long that Arthur probably thinks I’ve lost it.
And then I see it in the distance.
The Anchor—the place where it all began.
The car stops across the street. My breath catches. The lights are turned off, and there’s no one in sight except Tony. He’s standing outside, guarding the place like a bouncer at one of those expensive clubs. It’s quiet and intimate, with no press.
I wait until Arthur comes around to open my door. For once, the stars are out in full force, and the sky is crystal clear—as if the universe has RSVP’d to this perfect evening. Tony whistles playfully as I step out of the car. I instantly blush.
“And I thought Josh looked good...” he says, with an amused glint in his eyes.
“What’s going on? Are you closed?”
“For everyone else, yeah,” he answers, stepping aside. “My job here is done.”
“You allow him too much,” I say, stalling at the threshold. “Letting him take over the bar whenever he wants.”
Tony shrugs, flashing a roguish smile. “I’m a romantic myself. I’m going to steal a page out of Josh’s book and do something nice for the missus tonight. Have fun, you two!”
I hesitate before pushing the door open. Harrison’s near the back, smoothing out something on our table. When he turns, his eyes widen, and his mouth drops an inch.
I’m sure mine does so as well because he looks devastatingly handsome. Black dress pants hug him perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt with the first three buttons undone in that casual, deliberate way—just like they did the night of the premiere. His hands rest tucked into his pockets.
A flicker of light catches my eye, pulling me from him to take in the stunning setup.
Candles everywhere cast a warm glow, serving as the main light source.
The booth’s transformed, a white tablecloth covering the old wood.
Two glasses rest on top along with a bottle of red wine and polished cutlery.
Off to the side, a vase of yellow tulips adds a cheerful pop of color.
Everything—from the bar to him—is breathtaking. As I move closer, I realize I won’t be able to walk away from this night without feeling it: if I wasn’t sure before, I’m certain now. I love him.
“You did all this?” I ask, dropping my purse on the table and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He nods. “Tony helped.”
“What exactly have I done to deserve this?”
“You deserve this and so much more, Julia,” he says without hesitation, as if my question was silly. Warmth spreads all over me. “You look like a dream come true. I’ve never laid eyes on someone as beautiful as you.”
“If perfect existed, you’d be it, Joshua Harrison.”
“Compliments all around,” he jokes, easing the growing tension. He nods toward the table. “Shall we?”
I lower myself onto the booth, smoothing my dress out nervously. Harrison expertly uncorks the wine and pours a small taste into my glass, leaving his empty.
“Will you do me the honor of tasting the wine I picked while I bring us dinner?”
I nod. Everything’s so special. I’m suddenly feeling the urge to scream from the rooftops that I’m in love with this man, and that I’ll probably feel like this forever.
“If this keeps up, I might need something stronger than wine,” I joke.
He scurries behind the bar, and I’m left swirling the wine, savoring the aroma. Of course, it’s delicious.
“How did I do?” he calls, setting a dish covered by a cloche between us.
“Drinkable,” I tease with a playful grin.
“I’ll take that as a win,” he says. “I stomped on the grapes myself.”
I chuckle, appreciating how easy it is to get back into our natural rhythm.
I pour some for him and raise my glass. “What are we toasting to?”
“To us,” he says, mimicking my actions. “To still being here after two months. And to figuring out how to make it last even longer.”
“This is what I get for two months? I can’t imagine what’s coming next,” I say, because right now, no promotion feels more valuable than this. All I want is him.
“Leave the planning to me,” he smirks. “Turns out I’m a romantic at heart. I just needed to find my girl.”
“I never doubted it,” I reply, pleased.