Chapter 46 The stories we tell in elevator
Hannah
I didn’t realize how much time had passed until my feet started to ache in that dull, insistent way that meant I’d been wandering too long on polished floors meant for people who glided, not lingered.
I drifted out of a boutique with silk scarves draped over my arm, pausing just outside the doorway to consider two nearly identical shades of blue. One leaned toward teal, the other toward navy. I frowned, holding them up one after the other.
Behind me, Timothy stopped a few steps back, phone pressed to his ear, his expression cool and distant in that way that usually meant numbers, not people.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “No, I’ll need that by Tuesday morning. Push the meeting if you have to—no, don’t cancel it.”
I glanced over my shoulder. He caught my look and lifted a finger in silent apology.
I smiled to myself and turned back to the scarves.
“Sienna would hate both of these,” I muttered. “Which is exactly why I should buy one.”
I stepped back inside and asked the attendant, “Do you have this in something louder?”
She laughed and guided me toward a rack that practically screamed color.
By the time I emerged again, scarf bagged and tucked under my arm, Timothy had finished his call. He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at the bag, then at me.
“For Sienna?” he asked.
“And possibly for annoying her,” I said cheerfully. “Two birds.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Efficient.”
We moved on like that; me drifting into stores with bright eyes and indecision, him trailing behind or lingering near entrances, sometimes answering emails, sometimes just…watching. He never complained. Not once. Even when I spent a ridiculous amount of time debating between candles that all smelled faintly of expensive forests.
“This one smells like confidence,” I said, holding one up to his nose.
He inhaled once. “It smells like money.”
I laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he replied lightly, “you keep asking my opinion.”
I pretended not to hear that and paid for the candle.
Nearly an hour later, my arms were full, my energy finally ebbing. When I slowed, Timothy noticed immediately. He signaled one of the guards with a subtle nod, and within moments, the bags were transferred from my arms to capable hands.
I exhaled in relief, rolling my shoulders.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Hungry,” I corrected. “Shopping burns calories. It’s science.”
He studied my face for a second, then asked, “Sushi?”
I blinked. “Like…now?”
He nodded slowly. “If you want.”
The idea settled somewhere warm and unexpected in my chest. Dinner. Just the two of us. Not a formal dining room. Not staff hovering.
I hesitated too long.
He caught it instantly. “We don’t have to,” he said, already shifting back. “We can just go home…”
“No,” I said quickly. “I mean…yes. Sushi. I’d like that. Really, I’d die for some sushi right now.”
He searched my face, then inclined his head. “Alright.”
We took the elevator to one of the upper floors of the complex. As the doors slid open, an elderly couple stepped in with us, the woman smiling immediately, eyes bright with curiosity.
“Oh,” she said warmly. “Aren’t you two lovely.”
I felt heat crawl up my neck. “Oh…no, we…”
“Yes,” Timothy said smoothly, without missing a beat. “We’re married.”
I stared at him.
The couple beamed.
“How wonderful,” the man said. “You don’t see young couples staying together these days.”
More people filed in behind them, filling the elevator with bodies and soft music. I opened my mouth again, unsure whether to correct the lie or let it live.
“So,” the woman continued eagerly, “how did you meet?”
Timothy glanced at me. Just once. A silent question.
I lifted my chin. Fine. If we’re doing this, we’re doing this.
“We met at a charity gala,” he began, voice smooth as polished stone. “She spilled champagne on my shoes.”
“That’s not true,” I said sweetly. “You bumped into me.”
His lips twitched. “You blamed me.”
“Because you were hovering,” I shot back. “Very awkwardly.”
A few people nearby chuckled.
“I was not hovering,” he said. “I was….interested. And I mean, of course.”
“For three years,” I added brightly, turning to the couple. “He followed me to every event after that. Pretended it was coincidence.”
Timothy looked at me with mock offense. “I did not follow you.”
“You learned my coffee order,” I said. “That’s stalking-adjacent.”
The elevator erupted in soft laughter.
The woman clasped her hands together. “Oh, that’s adorable.”
Timothy leaned in slightly. “She finally agreed to dinner after I rescued her from a truly awful blind date.”
“He told the waiter it was our anniversary,” I said. “I couldn’t escape.”
People oohed.
Timothy smiled at me through gritted teeth. “You married me anyway.”
“Against my better judgment,” I said.
His eyes flashed with amusement and warning all at once.
The man cleared his throat. “Do you have children?”
“No,” we said together.
“But,” Timothy added easily, “I want six.”
Six.
I nearly choked.
The couple gasped. “Six!”
“Yes,” I said quickly, patting his arm. “But he has…some fertility issues.”
Timothy’s laughter was too sharp. Too real.
“We’re working through it,” I continued, smiling serenely. “Doctors. Science. Hope.”
The woman reached out and squeezed Timothy’s arm. “Oh, sweetheart. Modern medicine is amazing. You’ll get there.”
“Thank you,” he said, voice carefully neutral but still tight.
The doors slid open at last. I waved enthusiastically as we stepped out.
“Good luck!” the woman called.
“Congratulations on your love,” someone else added.
The doors closed.
For a beat, we just stared at each other.
Then we burst out laughing.
I doubled over, hands on my knees, breathless. “Six children? Are you insane?”
“You gave me fertility issues,” he shot back, laughing, running a hand through his hair. “In public.”
“You wanted this,” I said between gasps. “You said married!”
“I panicked. Besides, we are.”
“Well, I panicked better.”
He laughed harder, the sound low and unguarded. Real.
Eventually, the laughter faded into quiet smiles. We straightened slowly, still facing each other.
Something shifted.
The air felt…different. Charged. Soft.
His smile lingered too long. Mine did too.
For a moment, it felt like we were seeing each other for the first time. Not as enemies. Not as obligations. Just…people.
Someone brushed past us, muttering an apology, and the moment shattered.
Timothy cleared his throat. “Sushi’s this way.”
I nodded. “Right. Sushi.”
We walked side by side down the corridor, closer than before, the echo of laughter still warm in my chest.