Chapter Four Julia
Chapter Four
Julia
“Where are you taking me?” Julia protested, but Harry just tugged her onward. They were near the bay, in the part of Queenstown that catered to tourists, full of women in camel-colored coats and men in Barbour jackets. Quite far from their usual haunts.
“You’ll see.” Harry flashed her a mischievous grin. “You clean up nice, by the way.”
Beneath her coat, Julia was wearing her swishy black dress from New Year’s and stilettos. She kept stumbling over the cobblestones. Normally, she wouldn’t have bothered with heels, but when she’d FaceTimed Abby earlier, Abby had convinced her that two years was a significant milestone.
“I’m not saying he’s going to propose,” Abby had remarked, peering at the phone, which was wedged against her computer monitor. She worked as a director of engineering at Google in their London office. “But two years merits something special, Julia.”
“What, like a new sex position?” Julia had quipped, and her friend laughed.
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had a relationship that lasted two years since high school.” Abby had shaken her head. “But we’re not talking about me right now; we’re talking about you.”
As Harry started tugging Julia toward the marbled entrance of a boutique hotel, she cast him a dubious look.
“I still owe you that bottle of champagne. I haven’t forgotten!” Harry exclaimed at the expression on her face. “Besides, it’s a special occasion.”
They couldn’t afford a place like this, but Julia swallowed her protests and walked to the bar.
It was empty save a group of women in cashmere sweaters and tailored pants.
They cast her skeptical glances that made Julia shrug out of her jacket and flip her dark hair over one shoulder, daring them to judge the way her hemline skimmed over her thigh.
“We need a bottle of champagne, please,” Harry asked the bartender, who immediately placed a menu before him. Julia waited for her boyfriend to flounder, or at the very least ask for a recommendation, but Harry scanned it for a moment, brow furrowed. “The 2014 Ruinart,” he decided, after a beat.
“Excellent choice,” the bartender said officiously.
Julia glanced over, an eyebrow raised. She’d never seen Harry drink a mimosa, let alone order from an overpriced wine list. “Since when do you have an opinion about vintage champagne?”
“As you so often remind me, I have opinions on everything,” he pointed out, which startled a laugh from her.
It was true; Harry never hesitated to share his thoughts, whether they were about weed gummies (for tourists only) or the Hobbit movie set tour (a guilty pleasure) or cowboy boots (only if you wore them while riding, never for the sake of fashion).
The bartender popped the bottle with a soft hiss, then poured their champagne into flutes with stems so painfully skinny that Julia worried they might snap.
“Cheers,” Harry said, tapping his glass to hers.
Julia lifted the champagne to her lips and took a small sip. It tasted like honey, its bubbles exploding along the back of her tongue.
A sudden commotion in the lobby made her set down her glass. “Just send it to my room,” a man’s voice boomed. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
Julia glanced over to see a man at the concierge desk wearing a fluffy robe and slippers, his hair damp, as if he’d come straight from the pool or perhaps the spa.
He wasn’t classically handsome, certainly not the way Harry was.
His features were rough and his torso soft, like that of a former athlete who’d declined in middle age.
Yet he had that elusive something that Harry did.
A sort of magnetic pull that inexplicably drew your eyes.
“Julia?” Harry asked as the man in the lobby glanced up.
The stranger’s eyes raked eagerly over her long legs. Then he noticed Harry, and his grin broadened.
“Well, shit.” Ignoring the concierge, who was still stammering a reply, the man strode into the bar area. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Julia watched the storm of emotions on her boyfriend’s face. “We can go,” she murmured, but it was too late, the stranger had come to join them.
“Dylan. It’s good to see you,” Harry said, though he didn’t sound happy.
Dylan smiled in a way that was boyishly mischievous, almost infectious. “And who is this lovely lady?”
He smelled like chlorine and spa products. Up close, Julia saw the crease lines around his eyes and mouth, though they gave him an air of good-natured indulgence rather than exhaustion. He looked like a cheerful frat boy who’d never grown up.
“I’m Julia,” she introduced herself, since Harry didn’t seem inclined to say anything.
“Enchanté.” Dylan lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. Julia was so charmed that she forgot to be self-conscious about the burn marks on the backs of her hands.
“How do you two know each other?” she asked.
Dylan cast a wounded glance at Harry. “You haven’t mentioned your favorite cousin?”
“I don’t—”
“Favorite cousin?” Julia exclaimed. Harry so rarely shared details of his life before her.
It had taken months before he admitted that he’d once been a marine, and that despite his odd accent, he was American.
But no matter how hard she pressed, he never disclosed much about his family.
I pushed them away, was all he ever admitted.
They’ve never really understood me, and then I made it worse. I did some things I’m not proud of.
Julia knew how it felt when your family didn’t understand your choices.
For years, every time she FaceTimed her aunt and uncle, they asked if she was ready to move back home.
I saw Sue Ellen Craddock at Kroger, her aunt Jess would exclaim, her son Matthew came back to town and is teaching high school science.
Julia wasn’t sure if these tidbits were supposed to make her want to date Matthew Craddock or apply for a high school teaching job. Probably both.
Thankfully, her aunt and uncle’s questions had lessened ever since they had visited last year and met Harry. They clearly sensed that he was good for her, and that she was happy in Queenstown, even if it was painfully far from home.
Dylan climbed onto the bar stool next to Julia with a wink. His robe fell slightly open as he moved, revealing a pair of swim trunks printed with tiny martini glasses. “Lucas,” he called out, waving to the bartender. “Grab me a glass and put the bottle on my room, please.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Harry protested, though he seemed resigned to his cousin’s presence.
Dylan shrugged. “I’m here for work; the family is paying. Let them foot the bill.”
“You work for your family?” Julia asked.
Both men were momentarily silent at her words. The bartender poured champagne into another flute, filling it all the way to the brim, before depositing the bottle in a bucket of snow. Where did the snow come from, Julia wondered; did they ship it from the mountains?
Dylan accepted the champagne absently. “Forgive me, Julia, but how long have you and Harry been…” His eyes darted between them as if he was searching for the appropriate word. “Together?”
“Two years,” Harry said.
“Tonight is our anniversary, actually,” Julia chimed in.
“Ah, congratulations.” Dylan gestured with the dangerously full champagne flute, though miraculously, none of it sloshed over the sides. “In that case, I should let you get back to celebrating. I’ll see you next month, Harry.”
Harry’s reply was immediate. “I’m not going.”
Julia glanced at her boyfriend in confusion. He hadn’t mentioned any family events next month.
“Why not?” Dylan pressed. “Everyone will want to see you. They’ve all been wondering what you’re up to.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a coincidence, is it? You being here. How long have you been looking for me?”
Looking for him? Julia knew that Harry wasn’t close with his family, but did they not even realize where he was?
Dylan chortled through a sip of champagne, then lowered the flute, eyebrows raised. “As usual, my dear cousin, you’ve been spending too much time with people. It makes you vastly overestimate your own importance.”
There was something funny about the way he’d said people, but before Julia could parse it out, Dylan gave a careless shrug. “Us running into each other? It’s just a coincidence.”
Harry nodded, but his lips were still pressed together. Julia decided to fill the awkward silence.
“I’m sorry, Dylan, you said you work for your family?” She attempted a smile. “What do you do?”
“I’m here as an advance scout. We’re thinking of buying this place and adding it to the TWL portfolio,” Dylan announced.
Julia felt her mouth fall open in shock.
TWL was one of the world’s biggest conglomerates, founded by the elusive billionaire Bruce Ellene.
Even if she hadn’t worked on their cruise line, Julia would have recognized TWL from its alcohol brands (Bordeaux wine, champagne, expensive bourbon), its luxury goods (half-a-million-dollar watches, diamonds, leather handbags), its boutique hotels.
“But your last name is Adams,” she said slowly, turning to Harry.
Dylan looked at his cousin in consternation. “Seriously? We all knew you’d run away, but no one imagined you were using a fake name.”
“I didn’t want to be found,” Harry said stiffly.
“No one was looking for you that hard. Honestly, things have been easier without you. Though I have to say, I get it,” Dylan added, chuckling. “If I had a shot, I would absolutely sleep with—”
“Stop,” Harry cut in.
The tension between the two men was palpable. Julia could practically taste it in the space around them, like the acrid, bitter smell of an electrical fire. Sleep with whom? Julia longed to exclaim. They were talking about an ex-girlfriend of Harry’s, right?
But that wasn’t as pressing as the massive lie he’d been telling her for the past two years. Julia couldn’t stop thinking of those paychecks she’d once collected, stamped with the TWL logo in the corner.
“Harry. If your family runs TWL, then you are…”