Buttons (Vows #1)

1. Chapter 1

Elowen

“Your hair looks more professional straight.”

His critique prompted me to spend an hour flat-ironing my natural curls away. Even now, the words still prickle against my scalp as we step into the ballroom. My husband, Julian, is here to network by hunting for the right developers for his new pivot into luxury sustainable living.

Julian’s hand finds my waist the moment we clear the threshold, his thumb pressing firmly through the navy silk he selected for me.

I know exactly when to smile and how to tilt my head.

I tell myself I don’t mind. When he turns that rare, heavy focus entirely on me, my chest tightens, and the rest of the crowded room simply falls away.

Above us, the chandeliers throw a jagged, fractured light across the floor, mimicking the sharp edge of his gaze.

Ahead, clusters of executives exchange business cards while their children are monitored by nannies in a side room.

“Elowen, you remember Richard Jorgen,” Julian says.

“Of course. Patricia couldn’t stop talking about your trip to Tokyo last month,” I say, extending my hand. “She mentioned that the temple gardens were stunning.”

Richard pauses, his glass hovering mid-air. He does not remember the conversation, but his wife does, as do I. I can still recall the specific whisked matcha they drank at the teahouse in Hama-rikyu.

“The gardens were incredible,” Richard agrees, shifting to address me directly. “Have you been?”

Julian’s fingers tighten at my waist. The pressure is a clear, silent warning: Richard’s attention has shifted to me, and that is not acceptable.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, but Julian was just telling me about his business trip to Singapore,” I say, smoothly pivoting back. “The expansion plans for next quarter are ambitious.”

Richard’s focus snaps back to Julian. “Ah, yes. Brilliant move on the Weatherby acquisition. Only you could have pulled off something that complex.”

“All thanks to Elowen. She keeps everything running smoothly,” Julian says, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server. “Both at home and in the office. I don’t know how I managed before she took over both roles.”

My smile remains fixed as I lovingly watch Julian speak.

As Richard drifts away, Julian steers me toward the next cluster. His grip is possessive rather than affectionate, but I stopped analyzing the difference years ago.

“Williams is here with his new wife,” Julian murmurs. “Remember, she’s twenty-six and used to be his assistant.”

I file away the subtext. Though I met and started dating Julian before working for him, I am his assistant.

“Julian! And the lovely Elowen,” Williams booms. “Have you met my wife, Madison?”

Madison offers a limp handshake before quickly pulling her hand back to smooth her dress.

Her gaze darts nervously around the crowded ballroom, her shoulders tightening under the heavy fabric.

“Madison, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Julian says, stepping forward to take the lead.

She gives a small, tight nod, looking entirely overwhelmed.

“If you ever want a break from these functions, let me know,” I interject, offering a reassuring smile. “Working with your husband takes a lot of balancing, and I know all about that.”

At my words, Madison glances back at Williams, who remains focused on Julian.

“The adjustment has been interesting,” she says quietly, turning back to me as her hands return to her dress. “Everything moves so fast.”

“The key is following your husband’s schedule,” I reply.

“Yes, follow Williams. He knows what to prioritize,” Julian adds, his hand resting between my shoulder blades. “Just how Elowen understands that my work demands come first, but we always protect our time together with our children.”

Quality time means the scraps of attention he throws our way between emails.

The thought comes automatically, making me wish it hadn’t.

Madison looks between Julian and me, a sudden wave of curiosity breaking through her nervousness. “So, do you work part-time now? I mean, since you’ve had children, did you find yourself stepping back from the office to handle everything at home?”

“Oh, no, I work.” I laugh. “Managing Julian’s calendar, our household, and our children is more than a full-time position. He might be the CEO, but I’m the COO of everything else.”

Williams laughs, but Julian’s hand stills against my back.

I’ve said something wrong.

“Speaking of which,” I say, seizing the pause, “I should check on Leo and Meredith.”

Julian’s relief is palpable as he releases me. At these functions, I’m expected to circulate independently long enough to demonstrate independence, but short enough that I don’t develop separate allegiances.

I head to the side room. The children’s room is significantly warmer. Leo sits cross-legged on the carpet, building a castle from blocks. He’s wearing the tiny navy blazer Julian selected, but he’s already removed the tie and folded it beside him.

“Mama!” Meredith launches herself at my legs. “The boy with the red hair said my dress was ugly, but I told him it was just his opinion.”

“Good for you,” I say, crouching. Meredith has my button nose and my stubbornness, though hers comes without the filtering system I’ve developed.

“I didn’t tell him, but his opinion is wrong.”

She squeezes my hand before scampering off to charm the bartender for more juice. I approach Leo slowly. Up close, I see he’s building a structure with multiple levels and a moat of blue blocks.

“That’s quite a castle,” I say, sitting on the expensive carpet as gracefully as I can in a dress.

“It’s not a castle,” he corrects without looking up. “It’s a home. For the blocks who don’t fit anywhere else.”

The simple logic of his words pricks at a place I’ve tried to keep numb.

“What makes them not fit?”

Leo stares at me, serious. “They’re different shapes. See?” He points to a triangular block nestled between two square ones. “The triangle doesn’t match, but it still needs somewhere to go.”

I reach over and straighten his collar to hide the emotion trying to escape me. He’s nine years old, but somehow already understands something about belonging that I’m still trying to grasp.

“Your nose is like mine,” Leo says suddenly. “We match.”

My hand flies to my face. The button nose. The feature I spent years contouring before giving up.

“When did you notice that?”

He shrugs. “Always. Meredith has it, too. It’s our family nose.”

Our family nose. This feature I’ve spent decades disliking connects us. Glancing at Leo’s profile, I suddenly see it as precious.

“It is our family nose,” I agree quietly.

Leo places a final red square at the top. “There. Now everyone has somewhere to go.”

“Perfect.”

Julian arrives. He nods at our children, but before he even speaks, he reaches down and nudges a single blue block a fraction of an inch to the left, aligning its edge perfectly.

Once he’s done, I grab a napkin from my clutch and give it to him so he can wipe his hands. “Mm-hmm. It’s perfect,” I repeat.

“David Morrison just arrived,” Julian murmurs as he leads us back toward the business party. I smooth my hair and prepare to be helpful.

We find Morrison near the bar. “David, wonderful to see you,” Julian says. “You remember Elowen.”

“Ah, yes,” Morrison says to me after the introductions. “I spoke to you last week over the phone. I think I’d spoken to Veronica first, but then you quickly took over after she accidentally hung up when trying to transfer the phone.”

“Her name is Virginia, and I do apologize about that. We hired her to handle secretary work for Julian, but she hasn’t caught on quite yet.”

“Take it you fired her, then?”

“No. We’re not ready to give up on her yet. Julian is just very particular, and we don’t want to throw her in too quickly. For now, I only outsource the smaller tasks to her.”

Morrison laughs. “Don’t get much smaller than answering phones.”

Julian subtly pinches my side, squeezing between his thumb and index finger. “But enough about me,” I say, “I take it when I transferred you, you and Julian worked out the conference?”

“Yes,” my husband says, finally swooping in. “We’re finalizing our sponsorship slots now.”

The warmth of the children’s corner makes me feel reckless, and I can’t help speaking up one more time. “That reminds me. Before I forget, the March timing conflicts with Leo’s science project. I’ll need to adjust the family schedule if we’re attending.”

It’s not like me to create conflicts between professional obligations and family life. Julian’s fingers go completely still against my waist.

“I’ll review the options before we finalize,” he says finally.

As the party eventually winds down and we collect the kids, Julian praises me, “You were great tonight. Morrison seemed impressed.”

“Thank you.”

Julian sighs, a tight line appearing between his brows as he looks over the lingering crowd.

“Tonight was almost perfect. There’s a room full of supposed innovators here, but not a single developer worth backing.

I have a portfolio ready to deploy into green infrastructure, but I can’t find a single project stable enough to risk our money on. ”

“You’ll find the perfect person,” I say, completely meaning it.

And so, the fairy tale continues. Children: well-behaved. Clothing: stain and wrinkle free. But as we walk out, I find myself thinking about Leo’s home for blocks that don’t fit anywhere else. I wonder what it might feel like to create spaces for myself rather than always accommodating others.

Julian steers me toward the door. I’m exactly where I’ve chosen to be, doing exactly what I’m best at.