“Good evening.” Placing his hands on the podium, he pauses in contemplation, briefly closing his eyes before looking at the assembled guests. “Since Sonia’s death, I’ve debated what to do, what to tell all of you. I’ve kept this secret for years. My work depended on me being able to maintain my anonymity, and it worked. But losing Sonia made me reconsider things. It made me realize the importance of telling those you care about how you feel. You may not get another chance.”
He momentarily averts his gaze, drawing in a deep breath. “Sonia was surrounded by people she thought were her friends and was in a marriage that, on its face, was the picture of perfection. But she’d never felt so alone. That’s why she sought me out. And over the weeks we spent together, she confided in me. I think she just wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen and not judge her for staying in an abusive relationship. Because of our time together, she finally found the strength to file for divorce.”
He grips the podium tighter, his expression fraught with emotion. When he looks at the audience again, tears are visible in his eyes and his voice wavers.
“Unfortunately, despite the courage she demonstrated, her husband carried out his threat. She called me that night, panicked. I tried to get to her. But I was too late.”
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach as I recall the night he left me for what I thought to be another woman. He claimed it was a matter of life and death. I can’t believe how true that was.
He clears his throat, his voice becoming strong once more. “And that’s why this work is so important. Sonia had her freedom ripped from her, but our hope is that other women won’t have to suffer the same tragedy.
“Sonia isn’t the first victim of domestic violence, and she certainly won’t be the last. But we can try to combat this epidemic, this idea of patriarchy and male dominance that seems to permeate society. Yes, men can be victims of domestic violence, too. It’s the idea of exerting power and authority over another person that needs to stop. It happens far too often and to people we never expect because of how happy they appear on the outside. Hell, Sonia always smiled, no matter what. I should have known something was off, considering my mother did the same thing…until she was murdered by her husband, my step-father, when I was twelve.”
An eerie silence falls over the room as people absorb his confession, his truth. This is a man who’s spent the past decade in these social circles, pretending to be someone he wasn’t so they’d accept him. It warms my heart to witness him finally discuss his past so freely. I hope it will encourage more to do the same.
“I haven’t spoken about my mother in years, not until a few months ago when I had the pleasure of meeting a woman who made me rethink everything.” He laughs slightly, a sparkle in his eyes, as if recalling happy memories. “She had this strange habit of being herself all the time, which completely captivated me, considering we all have a tendency of pretending to be someone we aren’t. Not this woman. And by being herself, she helped me see that it’s okay to talk about my past, about the skeletons in my own closet. All the past trauma, torment, hurt… She called it my ‘ugly’. And she embraced the ugly. It’s what makes us who we are. We can’t erase it. Do we wish we could? You bet your ass. Instead of doing everything to bury it, we should embrace all the pieces that make us uniquely us.
“So tonight, in honor of Sonia, I’d like to announce the groundbreaking of a project I’ve been working on. For those who may not be aware, when I inherited Theodore Price’s fortune, I used a great deal of that money to open women’s shelters here in the Tri-state Area. A few years ago, I wanted to do something bigger, so I expanded my charitable foundation reach into every state in the country. But it still wasn’t enough. I wanted to do more. Now, thanks to all your generosity, I’m able to do that. Working with Isabella, we’ll be going overseas, helping women born in cultures where abuse is so pervasive, it’s considered normal. It’s not. And it’s my mission to help even more women realize this. Thank you.”
Thunderous applause erupts as he steps away from the podium, pausing for a few photos before making his way from the stage. Reporters descend on him, all of them shouting questions about his identity as August Laurent. Instead of humoring them, he responds that they’ll have to wait until the February issue of Blush magazine hits the newsstands to get the answers they’re looking for. My heart expands, thinking how those magazines will now fly off shelves even more so than they would have.
I’m so lost in the gift he’s given me I almost don’t realize he’s leaving. Snapping out of my stupor, I rush toward him, but after his revelation, it seems everyone wants to know more, people swarming him as he makes his escape. He must have predicted this would happen because two bodyguards flank him, ushering him out of the room as other security personnel escort the media from the event now that the speech portion is over.
I call Julian’s name, but he can’t hear me over everyone else. All I can do is watch as he’s whisked away, without a single glance in my direction. As the excitement comes to an end, the sound of saxophones and piano playing a jazz standard fills the space. Out of nowhere, I hear my name.
I whip my head up to see Sadie rushing toward me. I don’t have a second to brace myself before she barrels into me, hugging me enthusiastically. Thankfully, I’m quick enough to save the remnants of my drink from spilling.
“I’ve missed you!”
I still at first, surprised by her sudden attack. Then I melt into her embrace. “I’ve missed you, too, Sadie.”
She pulls back, her eyes frenzied. “Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“About Julian being August Laurent? My god!” She loops her arm through mine, not taking a breath. “You were together while you were doing a story on August Laurent!” She gasps as she puts two and two together, facing me once more. “That’s why you broke up, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Her brows furrow as she surveys me. “But if you broke up, why are you here?”
I take a long sip of my manhattan, draining it. “I realized I made a mistake and came here to tell him.” I shrug in defeat. “But I missed my chance.”
She gives me an encouraging smile, squeezing my bicep. “It’s okay. It’ll all work out. Trust me.” She winks.
“Thanks, Sadie.” I sigh as I place my glass on a nearby hightop table. “But now that Prince Charming has left the ball, there’s no reason for Cinderella to hang around. It was great seeing you again.” I start to turn from her.
“Wait!” she yells, forcing me to stop. I look over my shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised. Her frantic expression softens. “Since you’re already here, how about a drink? I’m buying,” she jokes, considering it’s an open bar.
“Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be the best company right now. I should just—”
“Come on, Evie. One drink while I update you on all the gossip, and there is some juicy gossip. For old time’s sake.”
On a long exhale, I reluctantly nod. “Okay. One drink. Then I’m going home and curling up on the couch with a plate of Christmas cookies.”
“One drink. That’s all I need.”
I follow Sadie to the bar. She orders two manhattans, then we find a hightop table in the corner. The out-of-the-way location reminds me of the day we first met when we sat at a table hidden away, which allowed her to give me the dirt on the who’s who of the Hamptons. She does the same now, updating me on affairs, unplanned pregnancies, and even a few paternity tests. It’s like being brought up to speed on my favorite soap opera.
As she’s telling me about one of the guest’s affairs with the nanny, the music changes and the opening notes to an all-too-familiar song in three-quarter time fills the room. I stiffen, my breath hitching as memories of dancing to this song with Julian return.