Chapter Thirty-Four Julia
Chapter Thirty-Four
Julia
Percy would be proud, Julia thought with a satisfied nod at her own reflection.
She was wearing a white Staud romper with bell sleeves, which covered her arms but left her long, tanned legs entirely bare.
She’d paired it with studded gold hoops, flat blue sandals, and a raffia tote bag that made the whole thing feel more casual, and therefore, more like her.
She and Harry were getting married in less than a month.
And to her relief, her new attitude was starting to work: the more she stood up for herself, the more the Ellenes seemed to respect her.
Tara hadn’t even protested when Julia announced that she’d called Vera Wang and requested a change to her wedding gown, trading the skirts of floral Alencon lace for simple-cut tulle.
“It’s your dress; you have to love it,” Tara had agreed, and proceeded to invite Julia to a day spa for some “pre-wedding pampering.”
She’s finally warming up to me, Julia had thought proudly. Though for some reason, she hadn’t felt especially relaxed after the massage. Wedding nerves.
She and Harry were about to go uptown to make the very last wedding decision, this time about the cake.
The old Julia would have asked why they were flying down a cake instead of using a pastry chef in Georgia, and why this tasting was happening at Bruce and Tara’s apartment instead of a bakery.
Now she knew. They weren’t flying down the cake; it would grow stale, even on a private plane. They were flying down the chef.
And of course, when you were an Ellene, you didn’t go to people at their place of work. People came to you.
When she stepped into the bedroom, Harry looked up from where he lay sprawled on the bed, hands laced behind his head. “You look amazing,” he told Julia, and swallowed. “Maybe even a little intimidating.”
Good. That was precisely what Julia had been going for.
It was harder to draw upon that confidence when they stepped into the Ellenes’ entry hall. The penthouse was so painfully lavish, with its sweeping city views and marble fireplaces and custom silk pillows, carefully arranged on sofas that Julia was terrified to sit on.
“Harry! There you are!” Heels clicked on the marble floors as Tara Ellene sailed forward to hug her son.
Julia saw the moment that Tara noticed her and took in her outfit: the designer handbag, the chic romper, the sandals. “Well, don’t you look lovely,” Tara murmured.
“Thank you,” Julia said simply.
What was that saying about speaking truth to power? Perhaps in this case, Julia was speaking money to money. Perhaps she should have started doing it long ago.
“Everyone is already here,” Tara explained, lacing an arm around Harry’s forearm as she led him into the living room. “Frances is in the kitchen now, plating slices of her favorite cakes. Wait until you taste her icing! She is a creative genius….”
Julia didn’t hear the rest of what Tara was saying. Her attention had shifted to a lithe, blond figure rising from an armchair. What was Valentine doing here?
“I hope you don’t mind that Hector and I dropped by.” Valentine’s smile faltered a little when she registered Julia’s appearance, but then she gestured to her husband, her voice lowering. “He has such a sweet tooth, he couldn’t pass up the chance to eat extra wedding cake.”
“Hector,” Harry said warily.
“Harry.” Hector echoed his tone, without stepping forward to hug his brother.
Julia’s heart ached at the stiffness of the interaction. Ever since she and Harry had moved to New York, the brothers had danced around each other—exchanging shallow niceties at family dinners or events, quickly turning aside and talking to other people.
She wondered when—or rather if—Hector would forgive Harry for the affair. After all, he’d forgiven Valentine, hadn’t he?
“I’m so glad you could both join!” Julia directed her warm words at Hector, deliberately ignoring his wife. “No way can Harry and I eat all this cake without help.”
Then the elevator doors opened again, and Percy stepped inside, holding a wrapped box like a supplicant presenting an offering at a temple.
For an instant, Julia worried that maybe she should have brought something too—flowers?
A candle? No, Bruce and Tara were her future in-laws; she shouldn’t have to behave like a guest each time she entered their home.
And really, Percy shouldn’t have to, either.
Julia hadn’t known that Harry’s cousin was coming today, but she felt grateful for his presence. Here, at least, was an ally.
Tara accepted the box from Percy without saying thank you, as if it were her due. “Gyokuro tea. What were you doing in Japan?”
Japan? Percy had just been shopping with Julia last weekend. How had he gone to Japan and back since then?
“I went over for a few days to help Dylan with something,” Percy explained.
“Another full-moon rave?” Tara shook her head reprovingly. “Dylan is supposed to be partying, but you should be above such escapades.”
Julia didn’t understand. Why was Dylan supposed to party, while Hermes was expected to dart about the globe like an errand boy, fulfilling the demands of various family members? Not to mention that the full-moon rave was in Thailand, not Japan.
“I bet Japan was lovely,” Julia said, beaming at Percy. “Even if you couldn’t see the cherry blossoms this time of year.”
Tara ignored Julia. She turned to Percy and made a flitting motion with her hand, almost the way one might shoo off a fly. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss anything now. As you can see, we’re all busy. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
That was when Julia realized that Percy hadn’t been invited to the cake tasting. He’d come over at Tara’s bidding, probably to do another “favor” for her.
“I’m glad you’re here, Percy! We were about to taste cake samples.” Julia kept smiling as sweetly as she could. “Would you please stay?”
All the heads in the room swiveled in her direction.
She could tell from their confused, annoyed expressions that they thought she’d overstepped.
They operated under a strange double standard, treating Percy like he was the hired help and they were living in a Downton Abbey–esque world where he was supposed to eat with the servants, not the lords of the manor.
Well, it was time someone put an end to it.
“I’d love to,” Percy said softly. Julia could tell that he was genuinely touched.
As they all headed into the dining room, Julia caught Valentine stealing glances at her outfit. The other woman frowned, probably annoyed that Julia had suddenly become chic.
And you said I wouldn’t make the cut.
· · ·
When they got into the car that afternoon, it took several minutes before Julia realized that they were going the wrong direction.
“Excuse me, driver. We need to turn around,” Julia began, but Harry put a hand on hers, and she fell silent.
“Actually, I have a little surprise planned for the two of us.” He grinned in excitement. “We’re heading to the Thirty-Fourth Street heliport on the East River.”
Julia’s smile faltered a little. A helipad meant more excess, more throwing around great sums of money.
An hour later, when their helicopter touched down in a clearing in the middle of the Catskills, she realized that she’d misjudged Harry.
“We’re going camping?” she asked eagerly.
They had camped once in New Zealand, in Fiordland National Park, where they’d woken up to a breathtaking view of Milford Sound.
Julia remembered nestling into Harry’s shoulder, drinking the coffee that he’d brewed for them over the fire, the grounds a little sticky on her tongue.
The sun had glittered like fire over the sound’s placid waters and the dramatic snowcapped mountains that surrounded them.
As if reading her mind, Harry said, “I know it’s not Fiordland, but I figured we needed to get out of the city for a while. To just…breathe.”
Julia nodded, grateful, and followed Harry’s lead as they stepped out of the helicopter. A pair of backpacks waited for them, fully stocked with gear: a pair of sleeping bags, a tent, water bottles.
“My favorite spot in the Catskills is a couple of hours away,” Harry explained. “Is that all right?”
“Of course.”
After they’d changed into athletic gear, Harry slung his bag effortlessly over his shoulder, then helped Julia adjust the straps of her pack.
It was midafternoon; shadows were beginning to gather in the underbrush, lengthening as she and Harry walked along the trail. Julia fell silent. The scents of earth and growing things twined around them, heady like perfume.
“You love it out here,” she observed, watching Harry.
“I do,” he admitted. “Camping just feels so simple, you know? It’s full of concrete tasks—pitch your tent, carry your gear, refill your water. Walk onward, one foot in front of the other. It forces you to live deliberately.”
Julia swallowed. She didn’t want to upset him, but she had to ask.
“Are you sure you should be working at TWL? Maybe you need a job that’s more…
active.” Like coaching high school football, she wanted to say.
Or leading white-water rafting trips in Colorado, or being a park ranger for the National Park Service.
“Don’t worry. I have boxing for staying active.” Harry glanced back over his shoulder with a provocative grin. “And I have you. I’d say we find lots of ways to be physically active.”
Julia knew she should drop it. She would never push him on this normally, but out here in the cool, clean air, things felt different. Harry felt different. “It’s just—you seem much happier away from it all,” she insisted. “Do you really like being part of the corporate rat race?”
“Actually, my job has some pretty interesting moments,” Harry assured her.
“I still don’t really understand what you do,” Julia said helplessly. “What does project management and client relations mean, anyway?”
“Oh, you know. Playing lots of golf at Liberty and tennis at Maidstone. Do you know how hard it is to convincingly let these guys win? I have to lose, but just barely, so that they believe it was actually a close fight.” Harry’s laughter faded as he added, “And of course, Father needs me to help bully the occasional TWL subsidiary that tries to step out of line.”
Julia wondered what Harry was like in a contentious board meeting. Perhaps Bruce needed his quiet, intimidating presence as a counterbalance to his own temper.
A thunderous roar reached her ears. She cast Harry a questioning glance, and he grinned. “Best camping spot within helicopter distance of New York. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.”
They turned a corner, and Julia gasped. A river twined through the forest before them, ending in a twenty-foot waterfall.
“It’s spectacular,” she breathed.
Harry reached to unclip her backpack and slide it off her shoulders. Julia noted that while she was damp with exertion, he didn’t even seem winded. “Should we swim?” he asked, eyes glinting with mischief.
“It’ll be freezing!”
“Chicken.”
Harry tucked his hands under his arms to make chicken wings and made little teasing sounds, boc boc. There was something so boyish about it, so endearing, that Julia burst out laughing.
She sprinted giddily for the river, peeling off her clothes and tossing them onto the bank.
When the freezing water hit her skin, she gasped.
It was ice-cold, bracing, the sort of cold that momentarily wipes your mind blank.
Julia hoped that Harry had brought a sweatshirt.
She turned back toward the bank, shivering.
“Jules, come on!” Harry had gone to stand behind the waterfall, in a little alcove tucked behind the sheet of falling water. “Your lips are turning blue,” he called out. “Come here, I’ll warm you up!”
Her wet bra still clinging to her body, she waded behind the waterfall to Harry. He settled his hands over her bare shoulders. “Better?”
To her surprise, it was. They seemed to be standing in a magical pocket of warmth, as if the water swirling around her and Harry were coming from the jets of a hot tub. Julia let out a contented sigh. “So much better. Is this a natural hot spring?”
“Something like that,” Harry murmured distractedly. He’d pulled her torso flush against his, melting away any last vestige of cold, and his hands tangled through the long, wet strands of her hair.
Julia tipped her face up. But instead of lowering his mouth to hers, he began trailing fiery kisses down her jaw, to the achingly sensitive spot on her neck, just below her ear.
Julia let out a moan. Her hands slid down his stomach to the waistband of his wet shorts, and she tugged at them impatiently.
God, this man’s body was perfection, as chiseled and taut as the marble statues she’d studied in college.
Carved from years of running and boxing and all the other endless, restless movement that made Harry himself.
The water thundered a few feet away, spray flying up in a misty haze, settling in Julia’s eyelashes. Little bubbles began roiling around her, almost as if she were in a hot tub, but Julia hardly noticed. Right now, it felt like she and Harry were the only two people in the world.