Page 92 of Julian

“And you think you weren’t?”

“You and I both know I wasn’t.”

I take the champagne glass gently from her hand and set it on a passing server’s tray before turning fully toward her.

“Harper,” I say evenly, “you need to stop caring what other people think.”

She stares at me for a beat before letting out a soft incredulous laugh. “Easy for you to say.”

“You belong as much as anyone. Anyone here making you uncomfortable is just insecure.”

I slide my hand lightly along her bare back beneath the open line of her dress, drawing her closer instinctively.

“For what it’s worth,” I murmur, “you’re the most interesting person in this room by a significant margin.”

And because I can tell she’s still untethered, I spend the next half hour keeping her close, weaving us through conversations without abandoning her inside them, quietly translating the rhythms of rooms like this the same way I once explained hockey to her.

By the time the orchestra shifts into “Fly Me to the Moon,” she’s relaxed again, laughing and at ease.

Then midnight approaches.

The energy in the Rainbow Room changes all at once as people migrate toward the windows for the countdown and fireworks over the city.

I take Harper’s hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“The best view in Manhattan.”

She laughs softly. “Modest.”

“I’m serious.”

I guide her through the crowd toward the western side of the room where the windows stretch floor to ceiling above the glittering skyline.

Harper steps beside the glass and her breath catches as she takes it in. “Oh my God.”

I smile, satisfied. “Told you.”

And then another voice arrives to interrupt us. “Julian.”

I turn.

Giselle Von Enck moves toward us, tall and impossibly elegant in a black satin dress. Dutch by birth, educated at the Sorbonne, and yes, gorgeous.

She reaches me and kisses both my cheeks lightly. “Happy New Year, darling,” she murmurs.

“Giselle.”

Her eyes drift briefly toward Harper, assessing quickly before returning entirely to me. “You disappeared after I saw you in Milan last fall,” she says. “I was beginning to think you’d become boring.”

“That would be a first.”

She smiles slowly at that.

I place a hand lightly against Harper’s back. “Harper, this is Giselle Von Enck.”

Giselle offers a graceful smile. “Lovely to meet you.”