“Sorry!” she said, eyes darting to his, then away, then to the buttons, then to the floor. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said, that lopsided smile on his face. “Serves me right for standing smack in the middle like that. I just didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”
Eliza let out a breathy laugh. “Me, either.”
He leaned down a bit, making sure to catch her gaze with his before he asked, “You work on the fifth floor, right?”
“I do,” she replied, so dumbfounded that she forgot to be nervous anymore. “How do you know that?”
His smile broadened, so warm and kind that her heart stumbled in her chest.
“Because walking by your desk is the highlight of my week,” he said.
He asked her to grab a drink, which led to dinner, which led to his walking her home and kissing her so thoroughly that she forgot to take things slow. To safeguard her heart and set boundaries. All she knew was that her hand fit perfectly in his, and for the first time in her entire life, she felt like she truly belonged to someone.
She moved in with him just a few months later. Met his family at Christmas. Got a birthday card from his parents in March. Without even realizing it, her hopes, her dreams, her future became inextricably enmeshed with his. His dreams became her dreams; her life was measured by his lens, just as it had been by her parents.
The worst part was that she hadn’t even noticed she was doing it. Not until the following August, when Ben suggested they head out to the Hamptons for a long weekend to celebrate their one-year anniversary. Even though they had both lived inthe city for years, neither had ever made the journey out to the eastern tip of Long Island, and they spent the weekend enjoying the beaches and small seafood shacks along the narrow roads, even while laughing about how out of place they were amid the sprawling mansions and luxury cars. Their final night, they found a dive bar along Montauk Highway, just down the road from their hotel, and wandered in just as a band took the stage. They were dressed like ABBA but had face makeup like KISS, and when they started singing “Dancing Queen” over thundering drums, Eliza had laughed so hard she almost snorted her drink out her nose.
“Is this okay?” Ben had asked.
“This is perfect,” she finally said through her smile.
He had smiled, too, then leaned down to steal a kiss. Then he laughed.
“What?” she asked.
“I just realized that when we get married and have kids, their first exposure to KISS is through stories about tonight,” he said close to her ear.
It was an innocent comment. Sweet, really. But it fell against her chest like a lead weight, stealing the air in her lungs.
“How many kids do you think you want to have?” he continued, his lips so close he could get away with almost whispering. “I’m thinking two. And a dog. We definitely need a dog.”
She could feel her smile flatten, and the sound of the music suddenly felt very far away.
Ben noticed a moment later. He leaned back, his forehead creasing. “You okay?”
Was she? It was the first time they had ever broached the idea of marriage, let alone children. She had barely thought about it. But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t. So why did that fact makeher want to recoil? Why had those simple words triggered such a panic deep in her bones? “Fine. I just… I need a minute.”
Then she disappeared into the bathroom, keeping the tears at bay until she reached the sink. And now, here she was, standing in front of the bathroom mirror in a dive bar somewhere in East Hampton, tears in her eyes and mascara running down her face. She studied her long, straight nose again. Her brown hair and her large dark eyes. For the first time, she wished it were her mother’s face. That if she stared long enough, she could ask it for advice. Had she had a similar moment herself? An instant when she woke up and realized she was locked in a social contract that she had never actually signed? Was this same blind panic the reason why she gave Eliza up? Did she ever end up regretting it?
God, what was wrong with her? She loved Ben. She loved him so much that the thought of losing him was almost unbearable. But at the same time, she couldn’t ignore how her body reacted, like a generational muscle had awakened and was forcing her to pull away.
Another sob wretched itself from her chest, and she let her head fall into her hands.
Behind her, Eliza heard the bathroom door open, but she didn’t bother to look to see who had come in. Not until a moment later, when she heard a clear, light voice behind her.
“Do you want a Clé de Peau Beauté towelette?”
Eliza blinked away her tears to look up into the mirror. There was a brunette woman standing behind her, statuesque and gorgeous in heels and a short sundress that looked distinctly out of place against the mustard yellow walls and bathroom graffiti.
“I’m sorry?” Eliza asked.
“They’re makeup wipes,” the woman repeated. She balanced a martini glass in one hand as she used the other to pull a smalltissue from her mini Chanel handbag. “These are phenomenal. Just a quick touch up here and there, and no one will even know.”
It was such a small gesture. Insignificant really. Eliza felt silly that it struck her with such profundity.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
