Julian snickered. A hand covered his mouth, but I saw the smile. The people in line shifted uncomfortably.
I looked at her. Really looked at her. I saw the heavy makeup settling into the lines of her face. I saw the desperation to be liked by strangers. I saw the absolute hollowness of a woman who would humiliate her partner for forty likes on an app.
"You want me out of the picture?" I asked. My voice was steady.
"Yes, Mark. God, just go." She waved her hand at me, a shooing motion like I was a stray dog.
Something inside me clicked. It wasn't anger; it was the sound of a heavy chain finally snapping.
"Okay," I said.
I stepped out of the frame.
"Finally," she muttered, turning back to the camera and putting on her fake smile. "Okay, Julian, ready?"
I didn't go behind the camera. I didn't take her purse. I set the bag down on the grass next to the photographer's foot, and I just kept walking.
I walked through the garden, past the bubbling fountains and the tables set with expensive crystal. I didn't run, I didn't stomp; I walked with the brisk, purposeful stride of a man who had realized he was at the wrong meeting.
I reached the valet stand at the front of the estate. The kid behind the podium looked up, surprised. The party had barely started; nobody was leaving yet.
"Leaving so soon, sir?" he asked, taking my ticket.
"Yeah," I said, handing him a $20 bill. "Emergency. Can you get it quick?"
He jogged off. I stood there checking my pockets: wallet, phone, keys to the apartment. I had everything that mattered.
Two minutes later, my Audi pulled up. I slid into the driver's seat. The leather was still warm. I adjusted the mirror. In the reflection, I could see the distant white tents of the party. I imagined Elena still standing there, smiling for the camera, tilting her chin down, unaware that her ride home and her bankroll was currently putting the car in drive.
I pulled out onto the main road. The moment the tires hit the asphalt, I waited for the wave of sadness. I waited for the heartbreak. I waited for the panic of, Oh my God, I just left my girlfriend at a winery. But it didn't come.
Instead, I felt a physical sensation in my chest that I hadn't felt in two years: it was like a heavy, wet wool coat had been lifted off my shoulders. I took a deep breath. The air conditioning blasted cold, clean air into my face. I turned on the radio—not the top-40 pop station Elena insisted on listening to because "it keeps the energy up." I put on a podcast about economics. It was dry, boring, and absolutely silent about vibes. It was paradise.