Chapter 18 The Exit
The Exit
Julian
Same evening, late
The gala is winding down when Eliza and I finally step outside.
The September night has turned cool, and I can see her shiver slightly in her blue gown.
My jacket is still in her car, the navy one she borrowed last weekend.
I glance toward the approaching car, glad she won't have to stand in the cold for long.
The valet brings her car first. She takes the keys but doesn't get in immediately, turning to face me in the golden light spilling from the venue's entrance.
She rests a hand on the car roof. "That was a lot."
"It was."
"I didn't expect her to be there. I mean, I knew it was possible, but seeing her..." She shakes her head. "And then everyone watching while you explained what happened. While I had to stand there and be the subject of gossip correction."
I wanted tonight to feel good for her. Instead she had to defend herself at a party she only came to because I asked. I need to listen before I tell her how well it went.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that publicly."
"Don't apologize. You did the right thing." She leans against her car door, arms crossed. "I just hate that everyone in that room now has an opinion about my marriage. About what I went through. They'll go home and discuss it over nightcaps. 'Did you hear about the Morrows? Such drama.'"
"Some of them will be on your side."
"That's almost worse. I don't want sides. I don't want to be a cause or a cautionary tale. I just want..." She trails off, looking out at the parking lot.
"What do you want?"
She's quiet for a long moment. "I want to take my story back. Not have it told for me, or about me, or corrected on my behalf. Even when you're doing it to help."
I nod slowly. "That makes sense."
"Does it?"
"You're not angry that I spoke up. You're angry that it was necessary in the first place. That Margot put you in a position where your private pain became public record."
Eliza looks at me, surprised. "Yes. Exactly."
"I get it. I wish I could undo all of it. I wish the accident had never happened, and Margot had never lied, and you'd never had to stand in a room full of strangers while I explained why your husband was an idiot."
"You're not an idiot."
"I was. For a long time."
"You were." She almost smiles. "But you're learning."
A car pulls up behind hers, headlights illuminating us both. The valet is bringing my car around. Our time alone is almost over.
"Can I ask you something?" I step closer, not touching, just near. "Tonight, when you chose to stay. When you held my hand and we went back inside. What was that?"
Eliza considers the question. "It was me deciding I wasn't going to hide. Not from Margot, not from the gossip, not from any of it. If people are going to talk about my marriage, they can see me standing next to you, choosing to be there."
"That took courage."
"It took stubbornness. I have a lot of that."
"I know. It's one of my favorite things about you."
She laughs, a real one, and the sound of it loosens something in my chest. We're going to be okay. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. We're going to be okay.
My car arrives. The valet steps out, leaving the engine running.
Eliza looks toward the exit. "I should go. Long night. Longer week."
"Do you want me to follow you home? Make sure you get there safely?"
"No." The word is gentle but firm. "I want to drive myself home, to my own apartment, and process this in my own space. That's what I need tonight."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." I shrug. "I'm not going to pretend I don't want to come with you. I want to drive you home and make sure you're alright and maybe sit on your couch and talk until neither of us can keep our eyes open. But you said you need space, so space is what you get."
She studies my face for a moment, looking for something. I don't know if she finds it.
She stops with her keys in her hand. "The boardwalk."
"What?"
"Next weekend. There's a carnival on the boardwalk in Cape Avalon. Bumper cars, games, a Ferris wheel. Very tacky. Very fun."
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"I'm suggesting a location. You can ask me on a date if you want."
"Eliza Morrow, will you go to the tacky boardwalk carnival with me next Saturday?"
"I'll consider it." But she's smiling. "Pick me up at six."
She opens her car door, then pauses. "Oh. Here."
She reaches into the back seat and pulls out my navy jacket, the one she borrowed at the gallery. She holds it out to me.
"Thank you for the loan."
I take it. The fabric still smells faintly of her perfume.
"You could have kept it longer."
"I have my own jackets."
"I know you do."
We stand there for a moment, her in her car doorway, me holding my jacket like a teenager after prom. The gala guests are trickling out behind us, voices and laughter floating across the parking lot.
"Goodnight, Julian."
"Goodnight, Eliza."
She gets in her car and drives away. I watch her taillights until they disappear around the corner.
My phone buzzes. A text from Vivian Hendricks: I'm so sorry about what happened tonight. I had no idea Margot was spreading those stories. I'll make sure the real version gets to everyone who heard the wrong one, and she won't be at any of my events again. You and Eliza deserve better.
I type back: Thank you, Vivian. We appreciate the support.
Another text, this one from a number I don't recognize: This is Catherine Whitmore. Got your number from Vivian. I wanted to apologize again for believing gossip without checking. I'll make sure my friends know the truth. Your wife seems like a remarkable woman.
I don't respond to that one. Eliza doesn't need my help accepting apologies on her behalf.
The parking lot is almost empty now. I get in my car and sit for a moment, after switching off the engine, thinking about everything that happened tonight. The confrontation. The way Eliza's hand felt in mine. The look on Margot's face when she realized the game was over.
I hope that's the last time I ever see her. I hope she takes whatever lessons she can from this and builds a better life somewhere far away from us. But mostly I hope she stays away from Eliza, and I will keep the boundaries I finally set.
I start the car and drive home alone.
The apartment is too quiet when I get there.
It's been too quiet for months now, ever since Eliza left, but tonight the silence feels especially heavy.
I pour myself a drink and stand at the window, looking out at the harbor, thinking about my wife in her small rental apartment doing the same thing.
She chose to stay tonight. She held my hand and walked back into the room with me.
That has to count for something.