Read Chapter 14: THE FIGHT

Their first real fight began over a button.

It was not about the button.

The autumn production sample had arrived with horn buttons Camille disliked. She wanted matte metal. Julian wanted to keep the horn because changing now would delay delivery.

"Three days," she said.

"Three days can miss the warehouse window."

"The metal is better."

"The customer will not know."

"I will know."

"That is not a business argument."

"Everything does not need to become a business argument because Halden sent you a contract."

Silence.

The studio froze around them.

Julian's face hardened.

"Conference room."

"No."

"Camille."

"Do not manage me."

Mara stood up.

"Everyone, coffee. Somewhere else."

People disappeared with astonishing efficiency.

Within thirty seconds, only Camille and Julian remained.

He lowered his voice.

"You don't get to use that in a design disagreement."

"You've been absent for three days."

"I have been here every day."

"Physically."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Something."

"About Halden?"

"Yes."

"I haven't decided."

"You always decide."

"Apparently not fast enough for you."

Camille felt anger sharpen into fear.

"If you go, what happens here?"

"To Bellwether or to us?"

"Both."

"There is a world in which I work six blocks away."

She laughed.

"You think geography is the problem?"

"What is the problem?"

"You leaving when the thing we fought for becomes difficult."

His expression changed.

"Be careful."

"Why?"

"Because you chose Bellwether after eleven weeks. I've given it eleven years."

The sentence landed.

Camille knew immediately that she had been unfair.

Pride kept her standing.

Julian continued.

"I stayed through layoffs, three CEOs, a recession, two years when I could have doubled my salary elsewhere. Do not confuse choosing another future with abandoning this one."

Camille looked away.

"Fine."

"No. Not fine."

"You want me to apologize?"

"I want you to understand."

"I do understand."

"You understand leaving. You don't understand staying until staying changes what it costs."

That was cruel because it was close to true.

Camille picked up her notebook.

"I have work."

She left.

For the rest of the day, they spoke only through email.

At six, Camille took the subway to Greenpoint and discovered she had no appetite.

At eight, she opened a bottle of wine.

At nine, she called Sophie.

"I said something unfair."

"To Julian?"

Camille sat upright.

"How do you know about Julian?"

"You are not as mysterious as you imagine."

"I have never told you we are together."

"You say his name differently."

Camille stared at the wall.

"That is horrifying."

"Tell me what happened."

Camille did.

Her mother listened.

Then said, "You want him to prove he loves you by choosing the option that protects you from uncertainty."

Camille hated the sentence on contact.

"That is not—"

"It is not all of it. But it is part."

"He might leave."

"Yes."

"And then what?"

"Then you decide whether love can survive two employers."

Camille rubbed her forehead.

"You make everything sound simple."

"No. I make it sound specific. Specific problems are easier to survive."

At ten thirty, someone knocked.

Julian stood outside.

He looked tired.

Camille opened the door wider.

He entered but did not remove his coat.

"I haven't accepted Halden."

"I know."

"I also haven't rejected it."

"I know."

She looked down.

"I'm sorry."

He was quiet.

"I shouldn't have said you were abandoning Bellwether."

"No."

"And you were right. I understand leaving better than staying."

Julian removed his coat.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"It was true."

"Truth is not a permit to be cruel."

Camille looked up.

"I am afraid."

"I know."

"Not only that you'll go. That if you go, I will have stayed partly because of you."

He crossed the room.

"And if I stay, I might always wonder whether I stayed partly because of you."

There it was.

The symmetry of their fear.

Camille laughed once, without humor.

"We are very inconvenient."

"Extremely."

She touched his hand.

"What do we do?"

"Make the decisions separately."

"And then?"

"Tell each other the truth."

"That sounds terrible."

"It does."

He pulled her into his arms.

Camille pressed her face against his shirt.

After a moment, she said, muffled, "The metal buttons are still better."

Julian laughed into her hair.

"Horn."

"Monster."

They argued about the button again in bed.

This time, neither won.