“All ready?” he murmured, unable to keep his hands off her ass as he leaned in to smell the soft, clean scent of her shampoo and the lotion on her skin.

“I want you to know that I’m only doing this because when else am I going to be on Copacabana Beach for New Years.”

Her stern resolve made him laugh. “So you don’t walk around Chicago dressed like this all the time?”

She shot him a withering look. “Very funny, hot stuff.”

“Should I wear this shirt?” he asked, motioning to pull on the V-neck to see if she thought it went with the pants, but she snatched it out of his hands.

“If I’m naked, so are you.”

“Fair is fair,” he grinned, and together they slid on their sandals and stepped out into the warm, electric night.

Chapter Eighteen

Everything had seemed fine in their hotel room. But once she was under the harsh lights of the hotel lobby, Julia felt herself shrink. As she and Blake strode outside, she desperately wanted to tear her hand out of his, race upstairs, and change back into her familiar cut offs and tank top.

Or hide under the bed and not come out at all.

It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with the outfit itself, but it was so far outside how she normally dressed that it felt like it wasn’t even her. She was afraid everyone was going to stare at her accusingly, like they knew she was doing something wrong.

But no one batted an eye. The concierge at the hotel was dressed in a crisp white suit and flashed them a smile and a wave as they crossed the lobby, wishing them a Feliz Ano Novo, a phrase Julia knew she was going to be hearing a lot of in the coming night. No sirens wailed, no Good Girl Police came to take her in for breaking the contract that said she was supposed to stay home, be practical, and take care of everyone else while they had a good time.

If only Liz could see me now¸ she thought, and grinned as she and Blake stepped out into the night.

“What’s got you so happy?” Blake asked, his eyes dancing in the soft light that spilled out into the street from the buildings along the strip of sand.

“Thinking about how low Liz’s jaw would drop if she saw me,” Julia said truthfully.

“Something tells me Liz would have a blast tonight,” he laughed.

“Yeah, and normally I’d be the one telling her to be careful and don’t get back too late and drink another glass of water before taking more shots.”

Blake squeezed her hand. “No babysitting tonight.”

“Not like she really needs it,” Julia admitted, and Blake nodded like maybe that’s what he’d been thinking, too. It was starting to dawn on her that Liz had never really needed a babysitter—just a friend. She and Danny had been so focused on taking care of her, they’d forgotten that it was still okay to have a good time. Anything that had happened was Mark’s fault. Liz didn’t need to punish herself anymore.

Julia understood it now. Of course Liz wanted her to go off and have fun on her own. Julia could be a good friend and still have the time of her life. She might even be a better friend for letting herself experience all that the world had in store.

As the crowd on the beach swallowed them in, Julia felt a strange weight lifting from her shoulders. It was like something she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around had jumped off and was now circling far above them in the night sky, never to return.

The beach was crowded but even with all the people pouring steadily onto the sand it didn’t feel stifling. Julia had spent other New Year’s Eves crammed next to strangers to watch fireworks, her fingers and toes so frozen she just wanted the ball to drop so she could go home. More recently she’d taken to staying in with a small group of friends so they could drink champagne and eat hors d’oeuvres and fall asleep in a heap on somebody’s couch, waking up to stuff themselves with French toast in the morning.

It was always fun, but not like this. This was the pulse of music in her veins, the smell of salt and charred, grilled foods, the cold tartness of a caipirinha in her hands as Blake passed her a drink from a stall under a beach umbrella. This was warm and alive and exhilarating as she pressed the cup against her to keep it from being jostled and a cold drip of condensation snaked down her stomach with a thrill.

There were all sorts of platforms with bands and performers set up along the stretch of beach, as well as trucks and vans with sound systems on top and people setting up right on the sidewalk along the sand. One sound merged into the next as they walked from stage to stage, carried by the surge of the crowd and the driving, rhythmic beat.

And everywhere the sea of sweaty, gyrating bodies illuminating the ocean and the sand, millions of bright, breathing things swaying and churning with one pulse.

One caipirinha was replaced with another, and more food from the stalls, and soon she and Blake were dancing on the beach, bodies pressed together, his bare chest glistening with sweat as he guided her hips to move with his to the frenzied beat. If only the clubs in Chicago were like this, Julia thought—Liz might actually succeed in getting her to go more often.

They danced barefoot in a throng of people, and then a circle spread, and they were clapping along with everyone else as one by one dancers entered the center of the circle and performed the fluid, powerful motions of capoeira, a martial-arts based dance that took Julia’s breath away. The dancers were incredible, something between hip-hop and break dancing and karate. They flipped from their feet onto their hands and back again, moving low and circling each other, building up a competition between each dancer who took to the center of the circle. They clapped and cheered and egged the dancers on, sweaty and breathless, and when that circle broke up, another formed, and then another, so that the whole beach was one surging group of dancers finding their own ways to move.

It was impossible to feel self-conscious anymore. Everywhere she turned, people were laughing and smiling and having a good time. It wasn’t like being in a crowded club, where there were too many bodies pushing against each other and everyone was eyeing each other in judgment. Here there was such a mix of bodies and ages and people and outfits so that in the dark it was impossible to make out who was who or what they were doing. And besides, why would anyone care? The woman at the clothing store had been right—they fit in perfectly. It was nice to feel the ocean breeze on her stomach and to touch Blake’s chest, knowing he was right by her side. She needn’t have worried so much about what people would think; they were too busy having a good time to care about anything other than the fact that she was out there dancing and having fun, too.

“This is incredible!” she gasped when Blake pulled her out of the crowd so they could take a breather and buy some water from a woman selling bottles out of a cooler.

“I knew this was supposed to be a party, but I still had no idea it would be this fun,” Blake said, downing the water and then pouring some of it over his head and on Julia to cool them off. She laughed and took another swig.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t here?” she asked, imagining the celebrations in Sydney.

“I’d probably be by myself somewhere in Argentina, moping and thinking of you,” he said, flashing a grin.

“Not if you hadn’t met me.”

“I’d still be moping and thinking of you. It’d just be the you I’d wish I had met.”

“Yeah right, you’d be out dancing with some other girl.” She stuck out her tongue.

Blake pretended to shudder. “Perish the thought.”

“Come on, let’s walk down the beach,” she urged, skirting up the road that ran along the beach and trying to keep to the outside of the crowds.