Chapter Twenty Julia
Chapter Twenty
Julia
Julia shifted closer to Harry, staring at the sixty-foot climbing wall before them.
Neon footholds traced up its surface in a jagged pattern.
The top looked unnervingly far, but Julia felt reassured by the weight of her harness, which was attached to a belay line.
A gym employee named Bianca stood ready to pull Julia’s slack as she climbed, maintaining tension in the rope.
Next to her, another gym employee stood ready to manage Harry’s belay line, though Julia suspected that her fiancé could have free-climbed up the whole wall barefoot.
“Thanks for coming with me. I’ve been itching for a good climb.” Harry rolled his shoulders, his biceps and lats rippling beneath his T-shirt.
Julia nodded in agreement, though she didn’t especially care whether they climbed.
She would have been equally content if they’d gone to a miniature golf course, or a shot-and-a-beer dive bar, or on one of those tourist boats that ferried people to the Statue of Liberty.
Anywhere that felt far from Harry’s family.
No other Ellene would be caught dead here, Julia thought, staring around the sweat-stained gym with satisfaction.
When she’d agreed to move to New York, Julia hadn’t realized they would see quite so much of Harry’s family.
Of course, she loved her job at the gallery, the one thing that felt like it truly belonged to her.
And she loved the new life she and Harry were building together.
They wandered around the West Village in search of new dinner spots; they went on long, sweaty runs every Saturday morning.
Just last weekend she’d dragged him to an “art show” in New Jersey that had turned out to be more of a flea market.
But the Ellenes were constantly underfoot.
Tara, in particular, called Julia on a daily basis with some question about either the engagement party or the wedding.
She seemed to be tackling both events with the budget, and ruthlessness, of a dictator launching her nation into full-scale war.
It’s just a party, Julia had said on more than one occasion.
A remark that left Tara nearly apoplectic with shock.
And it wasn’t just the meetings with event planners and florists.
Harry’s parents were constantly inviting them to society parties and galas, to drinks at the Links Club and family dinners at the penthouse.
We don’t have to go, Harry assured Julia, each time his father called, but Julia didn’t feel comfortable turning down all the invitations.
Her future in-laws clearly expected their presence—and though Julia hated to say so, it wasn’t the worst thing for her career.
At least at those parties she could make connections in the world of true art collectors.
People who might come to the gallery and actually buy something, instead of wandering in to browse.
Harry’s sister Alina had flown back to Shanghai after the family reunion, but Harry’s brother Hector and his wife, Valentine, were nearly always at these events.
Julia was happy for Harry, of course. She knew how desperately he longed to reconcile with his brother.
Harry and Hector still seemed awkward around each other, but they were both trying, and that had to count for something.
“Shall we?” Harry asked, interrupting her thoughts. He started toward the wall without even checking his harness.
“Let’s go,” Julia agreed, and reached for the first handhold.
There was something very Zen about rock climbing, even in a gym.
It was as much mental as it was physical.
You had to study the course like a puzzle, formulate clever ways to get through the tough sections.
Julia relished the way her entire consciousness narrowed to a single action, a single decision: where to put her hand, how to transition from one point of contact to the next.
At its best, rock climbing felt graceful, Julia’s movements as fluid as a dancer’s.
As she and Harry got into a rhythm, they exchanged a staccato conversation.
Questions would be asked, only to be answered several minutes later when the other person had reached a stopping place.
Below, Bianca and her coworker stood watch, following their progress, though Julia noted that Bianca’s eyes lingered a bit longer on Harry.
“How was your trip to DC?” Julia asked. Harry had been traveling more often lately, mostly along the East Coast, on TWL business that remained inscrutable to her.
“Not that interesting. Father was meeting with some senators and wanted me there, in case things got contentious.”
Julia wasn’t quite sure how Harry could help in a political dispute but didn’t say so, not wanting to stomp on his excitement. He was clearly pleased to have gotten the rare one-on-one time with his father.
“What about you?” Harry asked, easily grabbing an orange handhold. “Do anything interesting while I was gone?”
“I sold something at the gallery, actually.” Julia folded one leg under her hips as she yanked herself upward.
“Jules! That’s awesome!” Harry sounded maddeningly relaxed, not out of breath at all.
“It wasn’t a big piece, but still. I’ll get my first commission.” It was a giclée geometric print, small but beautiful. The sort of thing Julia dreamed of buying for a home office, if she could ever afford it.
She would be able to afford it once she married Harry, she thought. The realization made her feel strange.
Julia paused, staring up at her footholds, then tried to swing around like a barn door to grab one of them. Her hand scrabbled into empty air.
There was a split-second delay before Bianca tugged at the belay line and the harness caught her, slack tightening around Julia’s waist like a seat belt in a car crash. Harry watched, slightly tense, until she regained her footing.
“Speaking of work, some of the other girls from the gallery go to trivia on Wednesdays with their boyfriends,” Julia panted, trying not to sound as though her heart was racing. “I was thinking we could go next week?”
“I’ll pass, but you should absolutely go.” Harry cast her one last look, then started climbing upward again. “Trivia isn’t really my thing.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No.” Harry’s voice sounded oddly strained as he replied. “My domain is the physical. Athleticism, competition.”
“My domain?” she echoed, teasing. “Are you quoting The Lion King? Everything the light touches is your kingdom?”
“I should have said, being smart is not my thing.” Harry was too far ahead for Julia to see him, but she could picture the self-conscious smile on his face. The same one he wore when Julia was doing the Sunday crossword or started rambling about an obscure artist.
“You are smarter than you give yourself credit for,” Julia said softly, a bit resentful of Harry’s parents.
As far as she could tell, Bruce and Tara had done this to Harry—to all of their children, really, by trying to fit each child into a box.
She’d heard them on Olympus, praising Alina for being so smart, or telling Hector how creative and thoughtful he was.
Where else did that leave Harry except to think of himself as the wild one? The son who played contact sports and probably got into his fair share of fights at school?
“Anyway,” she added, “trivia may not be your thing, but games totally are.”
“Games?”
They were nearing the top. Unlike at most gyms, there was a true ledge here, several feet deep, where climbers could pause to catch their breath. Julia hauled herself up to sit next to Harry, her ponytail damp on the back of her neck.
“Yes, games,” she insisted. “Playfulness, obstacles, competition—it’s all part of trivia, the same way that it’s part of basketball, or rock climbing. I think you’d like it.”
Harry sat with that for a moment. “You really think my thing isn’t war, it’s games?”
“Who said anything about war?” Julia asked, confused. Where had that come from?
“I meant competition.”
Julia shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re fixated on a thing at all. You don’t need to commit to any single definition of yourself, Harry. You can be many things at once.”
He looked over at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Like how you’re brilliant and sexy at once?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased.
They lingered for a moment longer, staring down at the empty gym. “This is nice,” Julia heard herself say. “It feels a little like the old days.”
Harry must have heard something in her tone, because he looked at her with concern. “Do you miss Queenstown?”
“No, I love New York,” Julia assured him.
She felt nostalgic for the way their life used to be—easy, uncomplicated. Just the two of them laughing and making love and planning their next adventure. Without thinking, she let out a soft, almost wistful breath.
“What is it, Jules?” Harry asked.
It’s your family, she longed to say, and your money, and the world you grew up in. I don’t want any of it to come between us.
“I feel overwhelmed,” she admitted. “The engagement party is so soon, and now we’re deep in all the wedding planning, too. It’s just…a lot.”
“Do you want to call off the London party?” he offered.
“No, of course not.” She smiled as she added, “I should warn you, Abby already bought us tickets to the London landmarks bus tour. My aunt and uncle are far too excited about it.”
“I’ll buy us all some Union Jack flags to wave around,” Harry promised. When Julia’s smile faltered, he shifted his tone. “Is it the wedding? Because we can slow down the planning.”
“It’s not that….”
“Do you want to change the venue?” Harry kicked his feet restlessly against the climbing wall, making Julia nervous. “Forget what my parents said. If you want a ceremony in your aunt and uncle’s backyard, that’s what we’ll do.”