Elowen looked down at my hand.

She didn't tug. She didn't twist. She just studied my fingers on her wrist the way you'd study a stain on a tablecloth.

"Take your hand off me."

Her voice was quiet. Almost bored.

I didn't move. I leaned in instead, close enough that the cedar in her perfume stung the back of my throat.

"Look around," I said under my breath. "Half the people in this room were at our wedding. You want to make a scene? Fine. But don't make it ugly."

That was when she finally raised her eyes to mine.

Six years, and I'd never seen them like this. Clear. Flat. Nothing to read.

"Ugly?" she said. "You walked in here with Lila on your arm, Sterling. Did that feel ugly to you?"

Marcus coughed hard into his glass behind me.

My grip didn't loosen. Something hot crawled up the back of my neck.

"That's different."

"Is it?"

Before I could answer, Lila's hand slid around my elbow. Her nails pressed lightly into my sleeve. She stepped up beside me with a soft, sorry little smile, the kind she gave waiters when they brought the wrong wine.

"Elowen, right?" Her voice was warm as tea. "I've heard so much about you. Please don't misunderstand. Sterling and I are just friends who enjoy each other's company. I'd hate for you to think—"

Elowen didn't turn her head. She didn't blink in Lila's direction. It was as if Lila had never opened her mouth.

"Take your hand off me," she said again. Same words. Same tone.

Lila's smile froze. Then it cracked at one corner.

I waited for Kian to jump in. That's what a man like him would do, right? Puff up his chest and play the hero. *Hey, buddy, the lady said back off.*

He didn't say a word.

He just stepped in beside her. His shoulder settled against hers, and his hand came to rest at the small of her back again. Easy. Familiar. He wasn't defending her. He was standing with her.

And Elowen tipped toward him, just an inch, the way a plant leans toward a window.

My fingers dug in tighter. I felt the small bones of her wrist shift under my thumb.

She didn't wince.

She laughed.

It was a short, bright sound, and it made two women by the bar glance over.

"What's so funny?" I snapped.

"You." She shook her head slowly. "You get to bring a date. You get to stand at the bar and tell everyone I'll come crawling home." Her eyebrow lifted. "Oh, I heard Marcus. The whole room heard Marcus. And me? I've been divorced a full year, and I'm still supposed to stay faithful to you? Is that how it works?"

The words hit somewhere under my ribs.

My hand opened on its own.

She pulled her wrist back and rubbed it once with her thumb. There was a red mark there in the shape of my fingers. She didn't even look at it.

"Thank you," she said, like I'd held a door for her.

Then she turned to Kian. "Auction tables?"

"Lead the way."

They walked off. Neither of them looked back.

Marcus let out a long, low whistle. "Man. I've seen you lose deals with less blood on the floor."

"Shut up, Marcus."

"I'm just saying—"

"Don't."

Lila's hand was still on my arm. She squeezed it. "Are you okay?"

I stared at the doorway where Elowen had disappeared. "Fine."

---

Dinner was called twenty minutes later.

The seating chart put us at table six. Elowen and Kian were at table six too. Of course they were. The Harborview Foundation had invited us as a couple for five years running, and nobody had bothered to fix the list.

Kian pulled out her chair. Name cards had her between him and some retired judge.

I walked up and plucked the judge's card off the plate.

"Mind if I switch with you, Your Honor?" I said. "Old friend."

The judge looked at me, then at Elowen, then shrugged and moved to my spot beside Lila.

Lila's lips went thin. She didn't say anything. She just reached for her water glass and drank half of it.

I sat down at Elowen's right. Kian was on her left. She was boxed in between us like a sentence between two periods.

She didn't react. She unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap.

"Subtle," she said.

"I wanted to talk."

"We're not talking."

The first course came out. Chilled shrimp over shaved ice, lemon wedges, a little silver cup of cocktail sauce. The waiter set a plate in front of each of us.

Kian picked up a shrimp, pinched the tail, and peeled the shell back in one clean strip. He set the pink meat on the edge of Elowen's plate.

Something in my chest clenched like a fist.

"Don't bother," I said. I didn't look at her. I looked right at him. "She doesn't eat seafood."

Kian's hands went still.

The whole table went quiet. Marcus froze with a roll halfway to his mouth. Lila's fork hovered over her plate.

"Six years," I went on, cool and even. "I think I'd know. Shellfish makes her sick. She always ordered the chicken. Always."

Kian turned his head and looked at Elowen. Not at me. At her. Like he was waiting for her call.

She said nothing for a long moment.

Then she picked up the shrimp he'd peeled, dipped the tip into the cocktail sauce, and put it in her mouth.

She chewed slowly. Swallowed. Dabbed the corner of her lip with her napkin.

"I've always eaten it," Elowen said.

Her eyes slid past me, down the table, and stopped on Lila.

"The one who doesn't eat seafood is Lila."

Across the table, Lila's fork slipped from her fingers and clattered against the china.

Nobody at table six moved.

Lila's fork lay on the china between the shrimp and the lemon. The judge stared at it. Marcus stared at me. I stared at the little silver cup of cocktail sauce like it might explain itself.

*The one who doesn't eat seafood is Lila.*

Lila laughed first. It came out high and bright.

"Oh my gosh, she's right. That's me. I'm the shellfish disaster." She picked up her fork and waved it. "Sterling's so sweet, he's always ordering for me. He must've gotten us mixed up in his head. Men, right? They never remember who likes what."

The judge's wife chuckled politely.

Lila kept going. "Honestly, Elowen, I should thank you. He'd have let me eat one just to prove a point."

Her voice had never bothered me before. Three months of dinners and gallery openings, and it had always been easy to listen to. Light. Smooth.

Tonight it sounded like a spoon scraping a plate.

"Lila," I said.

"Yes?"

"You can stop."

Her smile wobbled. She set the fork down very carefully and reached for her wine.

Elowen didn't watch any of it. She was already asking Kian something about the Monet print, her chin propped on one hand.

---

The main course was beef tenderloin. I barely tasted it.

My eyes kept drifting right.

Six years of dinners like this one, and Elowen had always worked the table like a quiet second host. My glass never went empty. She'd catch the waiter's eye before I noticed I was thirsty. When some board member started in on my father's old company, she'd lean in and ask about his grandkids, and the conversation would bend away from me like water around a rock.

I used to think she just liked being busy.

Tonight my glass sat empty for twenty minutes.

Across the table, the judge's wife said, "Sterling, didn't your father's firm go under the same year as the Delancey merger? Such a shame."

I waited.

Elowen laughed at something Kian whispered and didn't turn her head.

"Yes," I said. "It did."

"Such a shame," the woman said again.

I pushed back my chair and stood. Nobody stopped me. Lila glanced up, then down again. Marcus raised his eyebrows.

Elowen kept talking about brushstrokes.

I walked all the way to the bar and back to the hallway, and when I passed our table again, she was laughing, her fingers tapping Kian's sleeve. She hadn't noticed I was gone.

---

Kian's phone buzzed during dessert. He checked the screen and grimaced.

"Lab in Geneva," he told her. "Two minutes."

"Go."

He kissed her temple and slipped out through the side doors.

Four minutes later, Elowen folded her napkin and walked toward the terrace.

I followed.

The night air was cold enough to bite. She stood at the stone railing with her bare back to the ballroom glass, the harbor lights blinking far below. She heard my steps. She didn't turn.

"Go back inside, Sterling."

"How far has it gone?"

Now she turned. One eyebrow went up. "Excuse me?"

"You and him. How far?"

"That's none of your business."

"It's my business when you parade him in front of everyone we know."

"Everyone *you* know." She folded her arms. "I don't recognize half those people. You never introduced me."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" Her voice stayed level, almost kind, like she was talking a kid down from a tantrum. "You want details? You want to know if he stays over? If he makes me breakfast?"

My hands curled at my sides. "Does he?"

She smiled. Just slightly.

"Goodnight, Sterling."

She stepped to go around me. I moved into her path, and she stopped a foot away, perfectly calm, waiting for me to finish like I was a red light.

That calm. That was what did it. Not the dress, not the shrimp, not Kian's thumb on her spine. It was the way she looked at me like I couldn't touch her anymore.

The words came out sharp and fast.

"Does he know what you used to do to keep me? Does he know you'd do anything? Begging me not to go on trips. Crying in the closet so I wouldn't hear. Waiting up till three a.m. like a dog by the door." I leaned in. "Does your biotech genius know who he's really taking home?"

The smile left her face.

It didn't crash. It just faded, slowly, the way a light dims when someone turns the switch a notch at a time. Her lips pressed together. Her eyes went somewhere past my shoulder, toward the black water.

She didn't cry.

She didn't say anything at all.

And something cold slid into my gut. I had wanted to see her crack, and now she had, and it felt like I'd stepped on something small and alive.

"Elowen," I said. Quieter now. "I didn't mean—"

The terrace door swung open.

"There you are." Kian walked out, sliding his phone into his jacket. "Geneva says hi. They also say I'm an idiot, so that's—" He stopped. He looked at her face. Then at mine.

His voice dropped. "What happened?"

I waited for her to tell him. To repeat every word and let him swing at me.

She didn't explain. She didn't even glance my way.

She just crossed the space between them and slid her hand into his. Her fingers laced through his like they'd done it a hundred times.

"Take me home," she said.

Kian studied her for a second. Then he nodded. "Car's out front."

They turned toward the door.

"Elowen, wait." I reached for her arm.

She twisted aside before my fingers landed, smooth and quick, and my hand closed on cold air.

Then she rose up on her toes, right there in front of me, and pressed her lips to Kian's cheek.

"I want to stay with you a little longer tonight," she murmured.