Page 27 of Anything For You
Elizabeth sat against the far door with her face angled toward the window. Her blazer was still buttoned. Her posture was still precise, spine straight, shoulders set, everything locked back into the architecture that the garden had briefly, impossibly softened. The streetlights sliding across her profile caught her jaw, and the muscle there was tight. Clenched. Not the loose, almost dazed expression she’d worn when Kelsey’sthumb had stilled against her cheekbone and they’d just looked at each other. This was the courtroom version. The version that appeared after the verdict went wrong and the client was watching and you had to look like you’d expected this all along.
Kelsey had tried, about ten minutes ago. A tentative nudge into the silence.
“That went well, right? Tonight?”
Elizabeth hadn’t turned from the window. Her fingers had been resting on her thigh, perfectly still, no tapping, no fidgeting. The control of someone deliberately not moving.
“Yes. You did a good job, Kelsey.”
The words were clipped. The exact tone you’d use to evaluate a contractor’s work.You did a good job.Notwedid a good job. Notthat was actually kind of fun.Not even the dry, reluctant humor Elizabeth sometimes let slip when she was being human.
Kelsey had said “Thanks” and left it alone.
Now she watched Elizabeth’s reflection in the glass instead of looking directly at her. The transparent ghost of her profile overlaid on the moving city. Eyes fixed forward. Mouth a thin, deliberate line.
She was thinking about Grace.
The realization settled into Kelsey’s stomach. Slow. Heavy. Undeniable.
Of course she was. Grace had walked into that party looking like a magazine editorial. That dress and those cheekbones and the easy confidence of a woman who already had everything she wanted and was just making a social appearance before going home to it. Charlotte beside her, glowing, one hand resting on Grace’s lower back with the quiet possessiveness of someone who didn’t need to prove anything.
Kelsey hadn’t spoken to Grace. Hadn’t even gotten close. But she’d seen enough. The way Grace carried herself. The smooth dark auburn hair and the tailored wrap dress.
That was the woman Elizabeth had married. Had chosen. Had built a life with for over a decade.
And Kelsey was wearing her roommate’s jumpsuit.
She looked down at her lap. The emerald silk caught the passing light, shimmering, and for a moment she saw it the way she imagined Grace would. Borrowed. The heels were hers, bought secondhand from a consignment shop, but the jumpsuit belonged to a twenty-six-year-old bartender who’d holleredYes, you look HOTfrom her bedroom doorway while she’d done her eyeliner in their tiny bathroom mirror. She’d felt powerful in it four hours ago. Now the silk felt like a costume she’d been caught wearing.
She hadn’t made a fool of herself tonight. That much was true. She’d been good. She’d been charming and warm and she’d made people laugh and she’d remembered names and she’d touched Elizabeth’s arm at exactly the right moments and she’d held her hand through the foyer past Grace and she’d stood in a garden for an hour with her palm against the face of the most beautiful, most guarded woman she’d ever met and she had not made a single mistake.
But not making a fool of yourself and belonging were different things.
The car turned, and Kelsey watched the storefronts of Astoria slide past, the Greek bakeries and laundromats, and the distance between this neighborhood and the Upper West Side brownstone they’d left felt like something you could measure in more than miles.
Elizabeth had spent a decade with a woman who matched her. Same career. Same vocabulary. Same tax bracket. Same world. And even that hadn’t been enough.
The Uber slowed. Pulled to the curb outside Kelsey’s building, the familiar brick face of it with the cracked front step and the buzzer panel that only worked for apartments 2 and 4.
Elizabeth turned from the window. Her face was composed. Professionally warm. The expression of a woman wrapping up a successful business dinner and thanking her associate for the solid preparation.
“Thank you for tonight.” Measured. Genuine, probably, but measured. “You handled everything really well.”
Kelsey’s hand found the door handle. Cool metal under her fingers.
“Happy to help.”
“I’ll pick you up Saturday.” Elizabeth’s gaze held hers for a beat, then released. Already somewhere else. Already calculating the next phase. “For the wedding. I’ll text you the details.”
Saturday. One week from now. Apparently there would be no more casual run-throughs or backstory rehearsals or glasses of wine. Just the clean, professional gap between the practice run and the main event.
“Sounds good.” Kelsey opened the door. She stepped onto the sidewalk, heels clicking against concrete, and leaned down to look back into the car.
Elizabeth was already reaching for her phone.
“Night, Elizabeth.”
A glance up. Brief. Almost distracted. “Goodnight, Kelsey.”
