Page 94 of Julian

“Harper, wait—”

“THREE!”

I chase her through the room as she spots the elevator bank.

“TWO!”

Champagne sprays from a bottle being shaken behind me.

“ONE!”

Then Harper disappears into an open elevator with me a few steps behind. The doors slide shut directly in front of my face, and I’m unable to catch her.

“Happy New Year!” everyone in the Rainbow Room shouts as they’re lost in their own celebrations, completely unaware of the disaster spiraling in front of me. I can only stand there and stare at the closed elevator doors.

“Shit! Shit shit shit!” I yell. I slam the elevator button, willing a car to arrive.

Finally, another elevator dings open farther down the hall and I lunge for it and press the lobby button.

The ride down feels interminable. My pulse pounds.

What have I done? I can’t believe this happened. Because Harper is upset. Worse than upset. She’s hurt. Because of me.

The elevator finally opens into the Rockefeller Center lobby and I move, scanning the massive space until I spot her through the revolving doors ahead.

She’s halfway out onto Fifth Avenue already, having left her coat behind in the coat check.

I break into a full-out run and it’s not easy in this tuxedo. I’m sprinting past tourists and security and scattered New Year’s confetti blowing through the cold Manhattan air while fireworks echo faintly above the city.

“Harper!”

She doesn’t stop.

I catch up to her just past the skating rink, finally grabbing her wrist gently but firmly enough that she has to turn around.

And when she does—Christ. She looks devastated. She’s not crying. That would almost be easier. Instead, she looks confused. Hurt in that disoriented way people do when something they thought was a reality suddenly is pulled out from beneath their feet.

“What?” she says breathlessly. “What exactly was I supposed to think back there?”

“Harper—”

“No, seriously.” She shakes her head sharply. “You have a date with another woman and you just… forgot to mention it?”

Around us, New York pulses with New Year’s energy. People are shouting and kissing and laughing while remnants of midnight stick wetly to the snow-covered sidewalks. “Yes, I forgot about it,” I blurt, realizing how godawful lame that sounds.

“We never talked about exclusivity,” she says, her voice softer now but somehow worse because of it. “I know that. I know we didn’t. But Julian…” She laughs once in disbelief. “You brought me to the Bahamas for Christmas.”

“I know.”

“And then I find out at midnight that you have another date lined up with some insanely beautiful European socialite?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“Then what is it?”

I drag a hand through my hair, already furious with myself because the truth is she’s right—I should have told her. “Giselle invited me to some charity gala,” I explain quickly. “I agreed to attend months ago, back when I was in Milan for business. It got put on my calendar and I don’t even look at what’s coming up until the week before. I truly forgot.”

She stares at me.