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“I should have told you the truth immediately.”
We both laugh, awkward for a moment. But then Rhett says, “Mother told me you were under strict instructions not to breathe a word of it. I’m glad you didn’t. My reaction probably would have accidentally gotten you fired.”
“So you’ve talked to Sloane?” I ask.
He looks down the street, eyes tracing the cars that pass.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “We had the hard conversation. The one we’ve both put off for too long.” His eyes light on me once again, his mouth a firm line. “And you know what? It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
“So now I need to be honest with you. I’m not cut out to be a banker. I’m not happy in a boardroom, and I don’t want to pretend to be. I’m sick of trying to live up to someone else’s ideals. And if that’s a deal-breaker for you, I’ll be devastated, but it will be for the best.”
His eyes hold mine, his expression one of resolve. My heart pounds.
“A deal-breaker?” I say. “Rhett, I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself. If that’s in the boardroom or in a garage, I couldn’t care less. I just don’t want you to be bored with me. My job is a piece of me, one that I love. But it’s also stressful and time-consuming. Do you think you’ll be okay spending most evenings at home?”
Rhett’s reply is immediate. “Are you kidding? Your job brings out some of my favorite sides of you. I love the way you take on challenges with every ounce of yourself. I love how you defy the impossible. And I want to watch you do those things. I want to be by your side, your encouragement, your confidant. Because these past few months I got everything I thought I ever wanted and I was still miserable without you.”
Rhett takes my hands. “I love you, Liz.”
I stare up at him, a storm of emotion crashing inside me. Relief and longing and hope and a dozen other feelings battle for dominance. And just when I think I can barely stand it, I open my mouth and say, “I love you too.”
And then his mouth is on mine and everything quiets. My emotions scatter like petals on the wind. The New York City street fades to a buzz in the background. Everything has reduced to just the two of us. To Rhett’s hand on my hip, to his lips against mine.
After six long months, Rhett has turned on the lights. He’s chased away the darkness. I feel like myself again. Better, even. Completed.
Rhett pulls back, reluctantly, his eyes tracing my face as if trying to memorize every inch of it.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I breathe.
“We have a lot of time to make up for,” he says. “And—”
“Excuse me?”
We’re thrust back into the real world, and I look up to see Bill standing there in his expensive suit. He’s struggling to stay focused on us, eyes flickering about to marvel at the fantastical costumes around him. He still clutches that fateful manila envelope.
“What the hell are we doing here?” He sounds apprehensive and excited at the same time. “Do you see these costumes?” he asks before we can answer the first question. “We did not have this much talent in the ‘70s.”
Rhett and I exchange a glance.
“Just follow us,” I say.
The following moments pass as if in a dream state. I’m there, walking, hand-in-hand with Rhett, but I’m outside myself, watching this moment as if through a window.
I see us pay. I see us go into the convention. I see us scan the list of events. I see myself point out a panel entitled Aliens in Literature.
I see Rhett and me together, walking through the crowd. And it’s like I can already see into the future. I can see us older, grayer, wiser but no less happy. I see us in love then, just as I see us in love now.
And then, suddenly, I see Marie.
She’s sitting alone, toward the back of the chairs set up before a stage. She’s dressed like Ellen Ripley in a green jumpsuit, a curly dark wig straight out of the ‘80s obscuring her severe corporate haircut.
She looks a little nervous, a little sad, but despite that a soft smile is on her face. Gone is the serious, cold Marie from Chicago, replaced finally by a kind-looking older woman reliving her past.
Bill notices her a moment after I do. He freezes, every muscle in his body tense as he beholds his wife. It must feel like going back in time.
He looks at us, the picture of shock and disbelief. I nod. The tension in his face, the misery in his eyes, fades. And without a single word to us, he leaves, heading across the room to go talk, really talk, to his wife.
Rhett and I watch from a safe distance. We watch Marie stand, a mirror of Bill’s shock. We watch their lips move. We watch their expressions go from confusion to realization. We watch as they join hands themselves and walk away together.
