Chapter 9
The dressing suite was on the second floor of the ballroom venue, a private room they set aside for donors and speakers. It had a long mirror, a velvet bench, and a rack of coats no one had claimed. The air smelled like hairspray and clean carpet. Downstairs, the gala had already started. I could hear the low thrum of conversation and a string quartet through the floor.
I stood in front of the mirror in a dark navy dress he’d had sent over that afternoon. It fit right, zipped right, but it wasn’t mine. The fabric was heavy and smooth, and it made me look like someone who belonged downstairs. He stood behind me in the same black suit jacket and black shirt from that first afternoon in the apartment, his reflection right over my shoulder. The contrast was the same as it had been when I was kneeling in my white robe and he was crouched over me — me exposed, him covered and controlled — only now we were both upright and both dressed for other people to see.
“You didn’t have to come up here with me,” I said. I was watching his hands in the mirror. He wasn’t touching me, but he was close enough that I could feel the heat off his shirt.
“I wanted you where I could see you before we go in,” he said.
Someone knocked, then tried the handle. The lock caught. He’d turned it when we came in. I saw his eyes flick to the door and back to me.
“You locked it,” I said.
He nodded once. “For a minute. So we can talk without someone walking in with a drink tray.”
That was the logic he used for everything lately — protection that looked a lot like isolation. The quiet in the suite made his breathing audible. Mine too.
I turned around so I wasn’t talking to his reflection anymore. “You said ‘you’re coming with me’ in my apartment. You said it like I didn’t have a choice. If you take me downstairs like that, as some announcement, I’m not going.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t step back.
“I’m not trying to display you,” he said.
“That’s exactly what this is,” I said. “You put me in this dress. You bring me to your charity gala where every table knows your name. You keep your hand on my back and let them do the math. That’s you making a claim.”
He looked down at the floor for a second, then back at me. His voice dropped.
“I know I did that to you that day. I held that test like it gave me the right to decide.” He paused. “I don’t want to do that again downstairs.”
I crossed my arms, not to hide myself but to hold my ground. The dress didn’t have pockets. I had nowhere to put my hands.
“I will go down with you,” I said. “But not as proof. Not as ‘look what I secured.’ If I walk in there, I walk in as your partner because I choose to. If someone asks, we say nothing about a pregnancy. Nothing. That stays private until I say otherwise. Can you do that?”
He stared at me, and for the first time that night his posture softened. He wasn’t hovering. He was just standing there, listening.
“Yes,” he said. “We say nothing.”
“I mean it,” I said. “You don’t touch my stomach. You don’t order for me. You don’t answer for me. If I want to leave early, we leave early. No speech about it.”
He gave a short, real breath that was almost a laugh. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I asked.
“Okay, Anna. You set the terms. I’m not —” He stopped and started over. “Coming with me doesn’t get to mean I carry you out. It has to mean you decide to come. I get that now.”
The lock clicked when he reached over and turned it. He didn’t open the door, just unlocked it. The sound was loud in the quiet room.
“Do you still want to go down?” he asked.
I looked at myself in the mirror one more time. My hair was still pulled back, my eyes still a little red if you knew to look. The dress felt less like a costume once I’d said the conditions out loud.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll go. With you. Not for you.”
May you like
He stepped aside and held the door open. He didn’t put his hand on me. He waited for me to go first.
Downstairs, the ballroom was bright and loud, tables set with white cloths and little gold cards. The air was warmer, full of perfume and coffee. He walked beside me, not ahead, and when the host came over to shake his hand, he introduced me by name and nothing else. I felt his presence next to me, steady, but not steering. We had a whole night to get through, and the tension hadn’t gone anywhere — it was just finally on terms I could live with.
