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“You didn’t have to fix anything.”

“I know that now.” She glances at me before looking ahead again. “Back then, leaving meant admitting I’d spent years building a future with somebody who made me unhappy, and I kept finding reasons to wait before I looked at that too closely.”

Traffic begins moving faster, and I follow the car ahead through the intersection.

Emma shifts against the seat. “That night in the dressing room scared me because I heard myself telling you things I’d barely admitted to myself. Then I went home with Spencer, woke up the next morning, and made the whole thing easier to live with.”

“How?”

“I told myself the gala had gotten to me and that Spencer and I had been letting work take over too much of our lives. There was always some point in the future when things were supposed to calm down and we’d have enough time to fix whatever had gone wrong.” Her fingers tighten briefly around the edge of her dress. “Every time I got close to admitting I couldn’t keep doing it, I found another reason to wait.”

I adjust my grip on the wheel as another memory surfaces: Spencer showing up after an argument with flowers or reservations somewhere Emma liked, behaving as though whatever happened between them had already been settled.

Emma glances toward me. “Then you were gone, and whatever I’d admitted to myself that night became easier to put away because I didn’t have you standing there reminding me of it.”

“I never wanted leaving to make things harder for you.”

“It didn’t.” She reaches across the console and rests her hand on my forearm. “You leaving wasn’t the reason I stayed. I stayed because I wasn’t ready to leave.”

I turn my hand beneath hers until my fingers catch hers.

She lets me hold on.

“For a long time, I thought I needed something worse to happen before I was allowed to end it,” she says. “Spencer wasn’t horrible every day. Sometimes we were fine for weeks, and every good stretch made me question whether the bad ones were really as bad as I’d thought.”

My thumb moves across her knuckles while I keep my other hand on the wheel.

“By the time I finally ended it, I couldn’t keep explaining everything away. Every argument somehow left me wondering whether I’d caused the problem, and whenever things improved, I caught myself waiting to see how long it would last.”

I glance across at her when the road straightens. She meets my eyes briefly before I have to look ahead again.

“The woman you found crying in that dressing room knew she wasn’t happy,” she says. “It took me another three years to believe that was enough reason to leave.”

My fingers tighten around hers.

For three years, I’ve remembered that night as the moment I realized I couldn’t keep working for Spencer while wanting Emma. I never considered that she carried something away from the dressing room too, even if it took her longer to act on it.

Emma rests our joined hands against the console as Manhattan draws closer through the windshield. She stays quiet for a while, watching the buildings pass until her thumb brushes across mine.

“What happened once you left?”

That part is easier to explain because most of it involves work, although the reason I threw myself into it has always been harder to admit.

“I drove for a while without much of a plan, going wherever made sense that week.” I ease off the accelerator as traffic thickens ahead. “I’d worked security for years, and after Celeste died, work became the easiest way to structure everything I didn’t want to deal with. Once I left Spencer, I suddenly had too much time.”

Emma’s expression softens.

“Before Celeste died, she made me promise I’d keep helping people whenever I could.”

“I remember you telling me.”

“She spent years volunteering with shelters and organizations that helped women leave abusive situations. I knew she donated money and supplies, and I knew she gave up plenty of weekends, but I didn’t understand how involved she was.”

That has become clearer with every page of her notebook.

“After I left Spencer, I started visiting places she’d mentioned. At first I told myself I was checking in because of the promise. The truth was simpler. I needed somewhere useful to be.”

Emma stays silent, letting me continue.