But then, he looked into her eyes. Past the tailored men, past the Rolls-Royce, past the devastating authority she now wielded. He saw the way she looked at him. It was the exact same way she had looked at him in the coffee shop when he bought her that latte. It was the same girl who had laughed on the roof in the rain.
Slowly, Julian smiled.
“So… was any of it real?” he asked.
Eleanor felt the tension in her chest dissolve. The fear that he would resent her for the deception, that he would turn away from the reality of her world, vanished. She stepped closer, closing the distance between their two drastically different worlds.
“Yes,” she said softly, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. “That’s why you’re still here.”
The wind moved gently through the trees lining the avenue, catching the golden light of the streetlamps as the sunset deepened into a dark, velvet night.
Julian reached out. This time, when he took her hand— There was no doubt. Only truth.
He didn't look at his mother as she gasped for breath in the ruins of her own arrogance. He simply let Eleanor lead him toward the waiting car. The older gentleman held the door open, offering Julian a respectful nod.
As the heavy door of the Rolls-Royce closed shut with a solid, definitive thud, sealing them in a world of quiet luxury, Julian realized that the life he knew was over. But as he looked at the woman sitting beside him, her head resting on his shoulder just as it always had, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.