Chapter 16 - Beth
1435 Words
Elizabeth
Two days later.
The restaurant Marcus chose was quiet and warm, nothing like the rooftop from our first date. It felt more intentional. More honest.
He was already seated when I arrived, turning his glass of water in slow circles on the table. When he saw me walk in, he stood up. That small gesture still caught me off guard.
“You came,” he said, smiling.
“I said I would.”
“You also said you’d text me back last Tuesday,” he replied, pulling out my chair. “And the Tuesday before that.”
I sat down and set my bag on my lap. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He sat across from me and studied my face for a moment without saying anything. Marcus never rushed to fill silence. It was something I had noticed about him from the beginning.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m trying to be.”
He nodded and picked up the menu. We ordered without much fuss. He got steak. I asked for pasta and sparkling water.
For a while we talked about small things. A podcast he had been listening to. A market he visited over the weekend. He had a way of talking about ordinary things that made them worth paying attention to.
The real conversation came after the food arrived.
He set down his fork and looked at me directly.
“Elizabeth, can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Why have you been pulling away? If I did something wrong, I want to know. And if it’s something else, I’d rather you just tell me than disappear on me slowly.”
I looked down at my pasta. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then what is it?”
I had rehearsed this conversation many times in my bathroom mirror. Every version sounded either too dramatic or not serious enough. Sitting across from him now, all of it left me.
“Marcus, there’s something I should have told you a while ago. I kept putting it off because I was scared of what you would say. The longer I waited, the harder it got.”
He didn’t move. He just watched me.
“I’m pregnant,” I said.
Marcus was quiet for a moment. His expression didn’t shift into something uncomfortable. He just took it in.
“How far along?” he asked.
“Almost four months.”
“And the father?”
I held my water glass with both hands. “My husband. We’re separated. It’s complicated and I know that’s not a good enough explanation, but it’s the truth.”
He was quiet again. Long enough that I started talking to fill it.
“I know this is a lot. I know it probably changes things and I completely understand if you—”
“Elizabeth.” His voice was calm but firm. “Can you let me think for a second before you decide what I’m going to say?”
I closed my mouth.
“When you say separated,” he said. “Do you mean legally or just in practice?”
“In practice right now. But I’m working toward making it official. That’s not something I’m uncertain about anymore.”
He leaned back and turned his glass slowly on the table.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Please.”
“When I met you at that gala,” he said, “I saw someone who hadn’t been seen in a very long time. Not just noticed. Actually seen. That doesn’t change because of a pregnancy or a complicated situation.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“What I’m not willing to do,” he continued, “is get attached to someone who is going to spend the next year still deciding. I’ve been there before and I can’t do it again. So I need to know that you’re actually moving forward. Not just thinking about it.”
“I am,” I said. I meant it in a way I hadn’t fully admitted to myself until that moment.
He studied me for a second. Then his expression settled.
“Then I still want to get to know you,” he said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“That’s okay with me,” I said.
He picked up his fork. “Good. Now eat your pasta before it gets cold. You’re eating for two.”
I laughed. It surprised me.
For the rest of the evening we talked differently. He asked about the baby without making it strange. Whether I was sleeping. Whether the nausea had passed. He asked about the bakery and listened when I told him about Nina and Adam and the shop opening on Monday.
“I want to be there,” he said. “If that’s not too much.”
“It’s not too much,” I said.
He smiled and raised his water glass. “To new beginnings.”
I raised mine and touched it to his. “To new beginnings.”
The drive home was quiet. Marcus kept both hands on the wheel and the radio on low.
When he pulled up outside the house he came around to open my door before I could reach the handle. I stepped out and we stood there on the pavement for a moment.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said. “For not making it harder than it needed to be.”
“You came ready to tell me the truth even when you thought it would push me away,” he said. “That took something.”
“I was terrified,” I admitted.
“I know. I could tell the moment you walked in.” He smiled slightly. “You were holding your bag like it owed you money.”
I laughed. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only a little.”
We stood there quietly for a moment. I started to say something and he cut me off gently.
“You don’t have to say anything else tonight. We have time.”
I stepped forward and hugged him. He hugged me back without hesitation. I stayed there for a moment, then pulled back and cupped his face in both hands.
I kissed him on the cheek.
He stayed still. He looked at me after with something calm and warm in his expression.
I smiled. He smiled back.
“Goodnight Marcus,” I said.
“Goodnight Elizabeth.”
I walked through the gate. I heard him wait until I reached the front door before he drove away.
Inside, the lights were dim. I closed the door and slipped off my heels. I was heading toward the stairs when I noticed someone standing by the window.
Daniel stepped forward and stumbled, catching himself on the wall. The smell of alcohol was strong.
“Daniel, what are you doing down here?”
He looked at me, eyes unfocused. His tie was loose and his shirt was half untucked.
“You were out late,” he said.
“Go to bed, Daniel.”
I moved to walk past him. His hand caught my wrist.
“Beth.”
I stopped.
He had not called me that since we were dating. Not once in four years of marriage. Back then I still believed he was exactly who he appeared to be.
I turned and looked at him. His eyes were red and glassy.
“Don’t walk away from me,” he said. “Beth.”
He took a step toward me and stumbled badly. I grabbed him before he hit the floor. He was heavy and he smelled strongly of alcohol.
I had only seen him this drunk once before. One specific night that he never explained and I never asked about.
I checked my phone. April 25th. The same date.
I got him to the couch. He sat down heavily and was out within seconds.
I stood there looking at him. Every part of me said to go upstairs and leave him there.
I turned to leave. His hand moved in his sleep and his fingers caught the hem of my dress.
I stood still. Then I thought about the push. My hands going to my stomach. His footsteps walking away without looking back.
I pulled my dress free. I took the throw blanket from the armchair and dropped it over him.
“Goodnight,” I said quietly.
I went upstairs and didn’t look back.
- Writer
