She stared at me.
Then Julian.
Then Mason.
“This is insane.”
I couldn’t resist.
“Interesting choice of words considering how we all got here.”
Mason snapped, “Claire, don’t.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t what?”
“This isn’t the place.”
I laughed softly.
“Mason, you literally mailed me directions to the place.”
A woman near us covered a smile with her champagne glass.
Mason’s ears turned red.
Vanessa looked furious.
“This is what you wanted?” she asked him. “You invited her here for some kind of ego trip, and now my ex-fiancé is standing at our reception pretending to be her boyfriend?”
“I’m not pretending,” Julian said.
I nearly looked at him.
Nearly.
Instead, I stayed perfectly still.
Mason’s expression sharpened.
“You knew who she was?”
Julian looked directly at him.
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa suddenly laughed.
Not happily.
“Of course.”
She shook her head.
“Of course this would happen.”
Mason reached for her.
“Vanessa—”
She stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The room had become painfully quiet.
I watched them for another moment.
And then something unexpected happened.
I lost interest.
Not because the drama wasn’t spectacular.
It was.
But because I suddenly understood how small Mason looked.
This man had once seemed powerful enough to determine my worth.
Now he was standing in the middle of his own wedding reception trying to explain why humiliating his ex-wife had been important to him.
I didn’t need revenge anymore.
He had done a better job than I ever could.
I turned to Julian.
“Let’s leave.”
He looked surprised.
“You sure?”
“Completely.”
Mason called my name as we walked away.
I didn’t turn around.
For seven years, Mason had always gotten the final word.
That night, he didn’t.
We barely reached the parking lot before I stopped.
“All right.”
Julian turned around.
“Here it comes.”
“Your fiancée?”
“Former fiancée.”
“That’s not a small detail.”
“I realize that.”
“You were engaged to the woman who had an affair with my husband?”
His expression changed.
“I didn’t know it was Mason.”
I folded my arms.
“Start talking.”
Julian leaned against the car.
“Vanessa and I were together for almost five years.”
I said nothing.
“We got engaged during our fourth year together. Everything seemed fine at first. Then she started traveling more for work.”
My stomach tightened.
I’d heard this story before.
Different narrator.
Same script.
“Weekend conferences?” I asked.
Julian looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Phone suddenly had a password?”
“Yes.”
“Started accusing you of being controlling whenever you asked questions?”
His face hardened.
“Exactly.”
I swallowed.
“Keep going.”
“One night she left her laptop open while she was in the shower. A message appeared.”
He looked away.
“I wasn’t looking for evidence. It appeared right in front of me.”
“What did it say?”
“That she missed him.”
I knew that feeling.
That awful fraction of a second when your old life still exists but your brain has already understood it’s about to disappear.
“I confronted her,” Julian continued. “Eventually she admitted she’d been seeing someone.”
“Did she tell you who?”
“No.”
“Married?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“She said he was miserable in his marriage,” Julian said. “Said he was going to leave his wife.”
