Chapter 12 - STEVEN RETURNED TO BELLAMY’S SIX YEARS AFTER THE AFFAIR, AND THIS TIME HE ASKED ANGELA FOR SOMETHING SHE NEVER EXPECTED
Bellamy’s still had the booth.
Of course.
Restaurants preserve memory better than marriages.
Six years after anniversary, Steven called Angela.
Not emergency.
Not Nora.
“Can I ask something weird?”
“You usually do.”
“Will you meet me at Bellamy’s?”
Angela went silent.
“No romantic agenda.”
“Good start.”
“I need to close something.”
“You have therapist.”
“She suggested.”
Angela laughed.
“Of course.”
“Does Owen know?”
“I haven’t asked you yet.”
“Ask again after I talk to him.”
Good.
Angela told Owen.
He stared.
“Do you want to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then that’s answer for now.”
Not jealous.
Not controlling.
Angela loved that.
Two days later, she said yes.
Dinner?
No.
Coffee at four.
Public.
One hour.
Steven agreed.
Bellamy’s smelled same.
Polished wood.
Butter.
Wine.
The amber chandelier.
Louis still worked there, now general manager.
He saw Angela and froze.
Then smiled.
“Mrs. Marshall.”
“Hi, Louis.”
His eyes softened.
“I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you too.”
Steven waited in booth.
Their booth.
No champagne.
Coffee.
He stood.
Angela sat opposite.
Exactly where Sloane had been.
Interesting.
Steven noticed.
“Want different table?”
“No.”
Good.
Let it be table.
Not shrine.
“What do you want?”
Steven pulled small envelope.
“I sold something.”
“What?”
“Our reservation.”
Angela frowned.
“You sold a restaurant reservation?”
He laughed.
“No.”
“I gave up standing anniversary booking.”
Apparently Bellamy’s had preserved annual reservation in their names.
Even after divorce.
Louis had quietly kept it blocked each year in case.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
“I realized I kept asking them not to release it.”
Angela stared.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe I thought if table existed, that version of us existed somewhere.”
There.
“Steven.”
“I know.”
He pushed envelope.
Inside was copy of original proposal receipt.
Five years before marriage? Actually proposal about six years before current maybe. Bellamy’s kept.
“I don’t want this.”
“It’s not gift.”
“What?”
“Read back.”
Angela turned.
Steven had written:
I promised forever here before I knew forever required honesty.
I broke promise.
I’m letting table go.
Thank you for making Nora possible and for never making her responsible for what happened here.
Angela’s eyes filled.
“Why give me this?”
“Because I’m done carrying hope you will become my wife again.”
She looked up.
He smiled sadly.
“It took long enough.”
“Yes.”
“Does Owen know you still had it?”
“No.”
“I mean reservation.”
“I told him yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That was weird.”
Angela laughed.
“Correct.”
Steven continued:
“I’m not asking forgiveness.”
“You have some.”
“I’m not asking friendship.”
“We have enough.”
“I wanted to tell you I finally stopped measuring my life against the night I lost you.”
Angela sat back.
“And?”
“I started measuring it by whether Nora trusts me.”
Good.
Then:
“She does.”
“I think so.”
“She does.”
Steven’s eyes filled.
“That’s enough.”
For once, he meant it.
Louis approached.
“Anything else?”
Angela looked at menu.
Wild mushroom risotto still there.
She laughed.
Steven noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Then:
“Too much truffle oil?”
He laughed too.
A memory no longer sharp.
They ordered coffee only.
As Angela stood to leave, Steven said:
“Sloane called me last month.”
Her body paused.
“Why tell me?”
“She’s doing campaign for Daniels portfolio company.”
“Business.”
“Yes.”
“I declined involvement.”
“Good?”
“Not because she’s dangerous.”
“Because I don’t need to prove we can all be comfortable.”
Angela smiled.
“You finally learned boundaries.”
“Therapy is expensive.”
“Worth it.”
They walked to door.
Rush Street cold.
Same as six years earlier.
A taxi moved past.
Angela remembered coat pocket.
Ivory box.
Six-week life.
Fear.
She looked at Steven.
“Do you regret it?”
He did not ask what.
“Yes.”
“Every day?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
He continued:
“I regret choices.”
“But if I spent every day regretting, Nora grows up with father staring backward.”
“That isn’t fair to her.”
Good.
Angela nodded.
“I’m glad.”
Steven smiled.
“Tell Owen thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not hating me.”
Angela laughed.
“He has hobbies.”
“Must be nice.”
Then they hugged.
Brief.
Not romantic.
Not secret.
Goodbye to one version.
Afterward Angela walked three blocks to where Owen waited at bookstore café.
He stood.
“How was it?”
“Strange.”
“Bad?”
“No.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her forehead.
No interrogation.
Angela took his hand.
They walked home.
May you like
She did not look back at Bellamy’s.
That was the point.
