CHAPTER 28
Harper
When I step out of the Penny Aura offices and onto Spring Street, I know one thing with absolute certainty: This role was tailor-made for me.
Reading people before they fully understand themselves.
Knowing why a consumer buys a product once, and more importantly, why they come back for it again.
Whether it’s consumer behavior or customer retention, I live for this.
Rather than feeling like a pretender as I have in past jobs, it’s like I’ve finally arrived home.
The office itself is beautiful. Situated in the middle of SoHo, it’s got that industrial start-up charm that exudes energy and optimism.
And the people, my colleagues, are great.
They’re collaborative and creative and genuinely excited about building a meaningful brand.
By lunchtime I’m already sketching campaign ideas across a glass wall with the social media team while two women from brand strategy debate Gen Z purchasing psychology beside me. To me, this is the definition of fun.
I’m loving every second of it.
And yet, my personal life seems headed in the opposite direction. All day long—between meetings and brainstorming sessions and onboarding presentations—Julian lingered in my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
It’s been two days since I stood in his study, our relationship teetering on a precipice.
I mean, we’ve texted. Technically. But his replies have been short, stripped of warmth. He’s pulling away. Maybe already pulled away completely.
Last night I finally called him after spending nearly an hour staring at my phone, trying to decide whether I was overreacting. He answered, but the entire conversation felt distant.
I know him well enough now to hear the distance even when he’s trying to disguise it. And then he just cut me off.
“I’m sorry, Harper, but I have a meeting tomorrow that I’ve got to do some prep work on, so I need to get going.”
“Oh, sure… of course. Talk later?”
“Sure,” he’d said, but I didn’t hear any excitement in it.
The worst part is that I can’t tell whether he’s pulling away from me specifically or retreating into himself. Either way, I walk around queasy, unsure of what to do.
I shove my gloved hands deeper into the pockets of my coat as I walk through Lower Manhattan, trying not to let my thoughts spiral.
Finally, just north of Canal Street, I stop walking. The cold air whips through my coat as I pull out my phone and stare at his name for one long second before pressing call.
The line rings once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then finally, he answers. “Harper.”
“Hey,” I say, trying to remain level-headed. “Are you busy?”
He sighs, his voice sounding tired. “I am, unfortunately.”
That’s it. Three words and a mile of distance.
“Oh.” I lean back against the cold stone wall of the building beside me, my frustration simmering. “I just got off work.”
“Oh… how was it?”
The question sounds obligatory.
“It was actually amazing,” I say, trying anyway, hoping enthusiasm might somehow pull him toward me again. “The team is incredible and I already started outlining campaign ideas and everyone was so collaborative and…”
“That’s nice.”
Silence follows and my grip tightens around the phone. “Julian.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on?”
The pause that follows is endless. “Nothing’s going on.”
I close my eyes briefly, fighting off what I know are imminent tears. “You’ve barely spoken to me in two days.”
There’s a long pause, then he says, “Just… had a lot on my mind.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, fighting to keep my voice even. “Then talk to me.”
More silence. Finally, he lets out a quiet breath into the phone. “I’m in the middle of something right now, Harper.”
I stare blankly out at the Manhattan street, anger pushing through the hurt now, hot and alive beneath my skin.
“Right,” I say.
Another pause.
“I’ll call you later,” he says.
The thing is, we both know he won’t.
“Sure,” I reply.
“Goodbye.”
“Bye, Julian.”
The line disconnects.
I stand there, at a loss. I don’t know where this goes, but I know one thing… I deserve better than this.
If something’s wrong, fine. Life’s complicated. But shutting me out while pretending nothing’s happening is not the way to handle the situation.
The heat of my anger follows me all the way down the subway stairs at Canal Street, my boots echoing against the tile as I descend onto the platform. A downtown train screeches into the station. It will take me home.
But I don’t think that’s what I need now. In fact, I know it’s not.
And before I can second-guess myself, before logic or caution has a chance to interfere, I turn on my heel and head toward the opposite platform instead, where a train arrives heading uptown.
I’m going to his townhouse, and I’m going to stand in front of Julian until he stops pretending I’m a person he can simply shut out the second things become difficult. Let him tell me to my face that nothing’s wrong.
The train ride is a blur. My head is spinning by the time I climb out of the subway at Seventy-Seventh Street. Cold January air whips down Lexington Avenue as I emerge.
I replay the phone call the entire walk uptown. It was like I was an interruption, a roadblock in his day. The hurt of it keeps mutating into anger before looping back again. What the hell happened?
A few weeks ago, we were beneath Rockefeller Center, him kissing me and telling me I’m exactly who he wants to be with. He’s taken me to the Bahamas and looked at me like I’m the answer to some question he’s been asking his whole life. He’s made a point to get to know my brother.
But that seems a distant memory. That Julian has disappeared.
By the time his townhouse finally comes into view at the end of the block, my pulse is pounding hard, almost audibly. The same beautiful Gilded Age facade that once made exuded safety is now imposing, untouchable in the way wealth sometimes does when it’s protecting someone from consequences.
I stride up the front steps without slowing and knock twice.
A few seconds later, the door opens and Percy stands there in his usual immaculate suit, silver hair perfectly combed back. There’s a gravity to his expression tonight that wasn’t there before.
“Ms. Hawthorne,” he says quietly.
“I need to see Julian.”
Percy studies my face, taking in the anger and hurt I’m no longer trying to hide. Then, carefully, he steps aside to let me in.
“He’s not in a particularly good mood this evening,” Percy says as he closes the door behind me.
“I gathered that.”
Percy folds his hands behind his back before speaking again. “I will not attempt to dissuade you from this. In fact…” His expression changes, a look that’s paternal moving through it. “I believe it’s good you’ve come.”
I blink at him, surprised by his assessment.
“He needs to see you,” Percy says. “Whether he’s ready for that or not.”
Without another word, Percy turns and begins leading me deeper into the townhouse, through the long corridor toward the back of the first floor where Julian’s study sits tucked away.
The closer we get, the more nervous I become, despite my anger.
Because beneath all this frustration is a far worse fate.
Fear.
A fear that maybe the version of Julian I fell for only existed temporarily.
Percy reaches the study door, then opens it for me and steps aside.
Julian sits with his back to us in the large leather chair positioned near the wood-burning fireplace.
One arm rests against the chair while the other lifts a whiskey glass toward his mouth.
“Sir,” Percy says quietly.
Only then does Julian glance over his shoulder. “Harper.” His voice is flat, defeated. Percy disappears silently behind me, closing the doors and leaving us alone. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way home after we hung up. I was going to just accept the way you were blowing me off, but then I thought… no… I deserve more than that. I deserve better than that. So I want to know. What’s going on with you?”
Julian turns back toward the fire before answering, like looking at me directly requires more energy than he has available right now. “Nothing’s going on.”
The response ignites every ounce of anger I’ve been carrying uptown. “Bullshit,” I snarl, walking all the way into his study and positioning myself before his chair so he’s forced to look at me.
His gaze is flat and lusterless. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Harper.”
“I want you to stop acting like I’m insane for noticing that something’s wrong.”
Finally, he exhales and leans back in the chair. “I’ve had a difficult few days.”
I throw my hands wide. “And your solution is to completely shut me out?”
“I didn’t shut you out. I’m only human, Harper. I can’t be everything to everyone all the time.”
I laugh then because the denial is so outrageous I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I’m not asking you to be superhuman, Julian. I’m just looking for an adult response. I mean, you barely speak to me. You won’t answer questions. Every conversation it’s as if I’m bothering you.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be dramatic.”
“What?” My voice rises despite myself. “Tell me what the hell changed, Julian, because two weeks ago you were telling me you wanted a future with me and now I can barely get you to stay on the phone for ten seconds.”
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
“There it is,” I snap. “That thing you keep doing.”
His eyes finally cut toward me. “What thing?”
“You keep trying to make me feel crazy for reacting to your behavior.”
“I’m not gaslighting you, Harper.”
“Then stop acting like nothing’s happened!”
Julian rises abruptly from the chair then. I step back on instinct.
He looks wrecked, but I’m too hurt now to let that stop me. “What did I do? Seriously, Julian. What happened? Because it’s like I’m standing here being punished for a misstep I don’t even know I took.”
His eyes close. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are you pushing me away?”
“I’m not pushing you away.”
“Stop saying that!” I cry out. “Stop telling me reality isn’t reality.”
The fire in the ornate fireplace cracks loudly between us. He drains the rest of the scotch in one long swallow, then sets the glass down.
“Harper,” he says tiredly, “I don’t know what the hell you want from me.”
“I want honesty.”
“I’m trying… I just… I don’t have anything more to give right now.”
The words are a dagger in my chest.
“You know what the worst part is?” I ask.
Julian’s eyes lift to mine. “I really believed you. I believed every single thing you said to me,” I continue, my voice shaking now despite my best efforts.
“When you said you wanted this. When you said you didn’t want to miss your chance with me.
” I press one hand flat against my chest trying to keep myself from physically unraveling. “I let myself trust you.”
“Harper—”
“But I can’t keep begging someone to let me love them,” I whisper.
“Harper… I’m giving you everything.”
“What you’re giving me,” I say softly, “just isn’t good enough. Goodbye, Julian.”
I turn around because I know what happens if I don’t. If I stay, he’ll keep breaking my heart one piece at a time while pretending it’s not happening.
So I force myself forward, toward the exit of his study.
Percy appears near the foyer the second I emerge, and one look at my face drains the color from his own. “Oh, Ms. Hawthorne,” he says quietly.
I shake my head hard, unable to speak because if I open my mouth right now, I will shatter.
My hands fumble uselessly with my coat. Percy moves like he wants to help me, to comfort me, but despite his good intentions, I know there’s nothing to be done.
Except for me to leave. So I do. I press my shaking right hand against my mouth to hold in the sob trying to escape.
Then finally, completely brokenhearted, I walk away from Julian Langley.
Worse yet… he lets me.