Chapter 6 - The Ride Out Back
The lock clicked and the door eased inward, and it was her. Not Mason.
She slipped inside the small dressing room and shut the door soft behind her, her back against it for a second while she caught her breath. Her shimmering dress caught the overhead light. She looked at me standing there in my gown with my hand still low on my belly, and she didn't ask if I was sure. She just nodded once.
"He stepped back," she whispered. "He's down by the columns."
I could hear the ballroom through the walls, the music still playing, low and bright. My chest felt too tight. I sat on the edge of the vanity bench because my knees didn't feel steady, and the cool air from the vent hit my shoulders.
She came closer and kept her voice down. "There's a service hall past the kitchen. No guests. I can walk you out."
I stared at her hands. They were shaking a little. That scared me more than anything Mason could have said out there.
I looked down at my left hand. The diamond was still there. It caught every bit of light in that little room. I didn't take it off. I couldn't do that part yet, not with him right outside. I pulled the loose edge of my gown's sleeve up and over my palm instead and tucked my fingers under, hiding the stone. It felt strange to cover it, like I was keeping something private again.
She saw it and didn't comment. She just held out her arm. "Lean on me if you need to."
I stood up slowly. The baby shifted and I paused with my hand pressed flat until it settled. She waited. She didn't rush me.
When I nodded, she cracked the door and checked the hall. Empty. The carpet out there was darker, narrower, the celebration sound fading with each step we took away from the ballroom. My heels sank a little too deep. I slipped one off, then the other, and carried them by the straps. The floor was cool through my stockings.
We turned left where she pointed, toward a set of double doors with round windows. Heat and clatter spilled out as a busboy pushed through with a tray. The smell of butter and hot plates hit me and turned my stomach. I stopped and breathed through my nose until it passed.
"Almost there," she murmured, her hand light on my back. "You're doing fine."
Past the kitchen, the hall got plain — white walls, scuffed baseboards, a humming ice machine. An exit sign glowed red at the far end. A man in a black vest stood by a service elevator with a radio at his hip. He looked up.
She straightened. "My daughter-in-law needs air. We're stepping to the back lot for a minute."
He hesitated, glanced at my gown, my bare feet, my belly. Then he pressed his keycard to the pad and pushed the heavy metal door open for us. Cold night air rushed in.
The parking lot was half-lit and quiet after all that warmth. A row of catering vans idled near the dumpsters. Beyond that, black sedans waited in a line under a single pole light. Gravel bit into my feet through the thin stockings.
She waved to the first car. The driver got out fast, young, surprised to see evening wear coming out the back.
"Ma'am?"
"She needs a ride around the block for some air," she said, her tone leaving no room for questions. "Keep the doors locked. I'll tell you where in a minute."
He opened the rear door. I slid in sideways first, careful with the gown, careful with my middle. The leather seat was cold against my arms. I set my heels on the floor mat and pulled my covered left hand into my lap.
She leaned in after me, just her head and shoulders. For a moment we were close, breathing the same cold air. Her eyes were wet but steady.
"Call me when you're somewhere safe," she said quietly. "Please."
I nodded. I couldn't get words out without them breaking.
Behind us, the metal service door banged open. We both turned.
Mason stood in the rectangle of harsh hall light. Jacket open, bow tie loosened, hair messed like he'd run. He stopped when he saw the car, saw me inside. His face changed as it landed — confusion, then understanding.
"Emily?" he called.
The driver looked between us, uncertain. The older woman stepped back from the car just enough to block his view a little, her hand still on the door frame.
"Give her tonight," she said to him, loud enough to carry.
Mason took two steps forward onto the asphalt. "Don't do this," he said. "Come back inside."
I didn't answer. I pulled my covered hand tighter against my belly. The driver closed my door with a soft thunk that sounded final in the open lot.
May you like
Through the glass, I watched Mason realize there was nothing to grab onto — no scene to smooth over, no guests to smile for. Just the back lot, the vans, and his mother with her palm up toward him to keep him back.
The car pulled away. I didn't look back after we turned past the pole light.
