“So you got your second chance,” she smiled.
“It’s your fault really.”
“Me?”
“If you hadn’t been talking about how badly you wanted to do something new and different and exciting, something you’d always remember—that is an exact quote, is it not?—then I might have let the whole thing go.”
“No way, you had this planned from the start. You knew you’d get your second chance in Rio, and this time you’d make me do it so that you didn’t chicken out.”
Blake lifted his palms to the sky. “Guilty?”
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone about failed attempt number one if you don’t tell them how loudly I screamed as we were taking off.”
“Deal,” he said.
They shook on it.
Julia was right, of course. As soon as she’d said she wanted to try something new and put the day’s plan in his hands, he’d known what to do. The whole thing had felt like a sign. Deciding to return to Rio meant he had the opportunity to do it over again, only this time better, deeper, without holding anything back.
Sometimes it’s good to get second chances, he reasoned, and then wondered if he was talking about hang gliding, or Rio, or perhaps something else altogether.
“Second chances, birthdays, the new year…” Julia mused. “Sounds like a time for a lot of new beginnings.”
“I was hoping that when you said you wanted to try something new, you weren’t talking about fresh pineapple juice or something.”
“Already tried it, so it’s not on the list anymore.”
“So what, now things have to keep getting bigger and better? Do I have to take you skydiving next?”
Julia planted her feet firmly on the ground and looked him square in the eye. “You have to let me catch my breath first.”
He laughed. “All right, I promise I’ll try to stick with smaller firsts.”
She started walking again and pulled her hair from its elastic. It tumbled over her shoulders, lifting in the breeze. He trailed his fingers over her back to feel the soft strands.
“I think I’ve made it clear that everything we’ve done together qualifies as new,” she said. “You could say we were going to sit and watch paint dry, and I’d think it was perfectly fine, as long as I was with you.”
“Well good, because I don’t know how you managed to guess what we’re doing this afternoon, but…”
She laughed and he did too, but inside his heart was pounding like he was standing back on the cliff, preparing to run. Was it Brazil or the beauty all around them or just her hair in the breeze that made this, this thing they were doing feel so right?
Or was Julia trying to say something else, that it was the two of them together? Would it be like this no matter where they were?
But she didn’t say anything else. Part of him thought it was the perfect opportunity to insert something about watching paint dry in Chicago for a little while—after all, he had the money and the time.
But he couldn’t. It was like the cliff was there but he couldn’t make himself run off it. Like he couldn’t make himself get in the cab and drive to the mountain the first time he’d thought about jumping.
And then the moment was gone, they were on a tangent about how to build so many houses right into the hills, and Blake was glad he hadn’t said anything. It would have been easy for her to broach the subject but she obviously hadn’t, and he intended to follow her lead. They had one more night together and it was the biggest night of the year, New Year’s Eve in Rio. He didn’t intend to ruin it by making things awkward for her.
He knew the problem with Kelley wasn’t that he’d let her go but that he’d pushed too hard, asked too much. Offered a life she didn’t want. Somehow he’d been completely unable to read the signs she’d so obviously given to him. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He swore he was going to give Julia what she wanted, even if it wasn’t him. He would let her ask for her desires, and then step back when what he had given was enough.
They walked a long time on the beach until the mountain they’d jumped from was lost in the distance and the more familiar sights of the city came into view. Then they cut away from the water to find a café for sandwiches. They were strolling through the streets of Ipanema, window shopping, when something suddenly occurred to him.
“Are you ready for tonight?”
“If it doesn’t involve jumping, falling, or in any other way endangering life or limb.”
“How about drinking, dancing, swimming in the ocean, hanging out on the beach with two million of our closest friends, and heavy bouts of making out, if I’m lucky?”
“Sold,” she said, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
“One thing Jamie was telling me about before we left, though, is that apparently everyone wears white. Do you have anything?”
Julia thought for a minute. “I have a white tank top. Maybe that’s okay with denim shorts?”
Blake remembered the outfit she’d been wearing when he first saw her standing by the front desk, waiting to be checked in. If she was wearing that flimsy shirt, there was no way he’d be able to keep his hands off her all night.
“Way too sexy, but I suppose it’ll have to do.”
Julia made a face. “What about you?”
“I have a white T-shirt, I’ve been wearing it to sleep in sometimes.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because pajamas are entirely unnecessary when it comes to you,” he said with a straight face, watching her blush.
“I know what you should wear,” Julia said, pointing across the street to a display window where a headless model wore white pants low on his hips. “No white shirt, just that.” She gave him an obvious once-over with her eyes.
“Well if I’m wearing that, you know what you’ll be in.”
“What?”
Blake jogged across the street, holding her hand and guiding her over to the display window.
“Oh very funny,” she scoffed, wrinkling her nose at the display. Next to her headless man in white pants was a female mannequin in a white shirt that could only be described as tiny.
“Come on, you’d look great,” Blake said, entirely serious about how well she could pull it off even though they were both joking. But Julia shook her head, horrified at the thought, and suddenly Blake felt like there was no reason for their impulsive adventure to be over just because they were back on land. “Yes, oh my God you should, you really should wear it.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, trying to pull him away from the window. But she was laughing, too, and Blake could see in the reflection of the window how they were both still flushed and giddy from the adrenaline rush of the jump.
“I’m serious! You have to get into the spirit of things.”
“I am in the spirit. The spirit of sane.”
“It’s not bungee jumping.”
“That’s no argument—that because it’s not an extreme sport it’s totally a good idea?”
“I don’t see a problem with that reasoning.”
“But I can’t.”
He folded his arms. “Why not?”
“Because!” she sputtered, then paused, clearly trying to think. “Because I can’t, that’s all. Because I don’t wear stuff like—” she gestured at the bare midriff of the mannequin, “that.”
“Mmm, why not?” he asked, this time genuinely curious. Why did she see herself that way, like there were things she “could” and “couldn’t” do? Like someone would come along and correct her if she stepped out of line?
Was she afraid?
“I just can’t,” she sighed, and Blake thought of what she’d told him about Liz and Mark, about what men did to women they thought they had a right to.