Chapter 2

Ryan pulled me toward the corridor near the restrooms, away from the staring diners.

His grip was too tight. It always was when he was angry, though he'd never admit it.

"Claire, you need to calm down." His voice was the one he used in boardroom negotiations — controlled, authoritative, designed to make the other person feel unreasonable. "You're jumping to conclusions."

"Am I?" I pulled my arm free. "Then explain the bracelet."

Ryan's eyes flickered. Just for a second, but I caught it.

"I bought Lily a similar one. As a thank-you. She's been helping me plan a surprise for you — for tonight, actually. You've ruined it now."

He said it with such conviction that for one brief, pathetic moment, I almost believed him.

That was the thing about Ryan. He lied the way other people breathed — effortlessly, beautifully, and without ever breaking eye contact.

But I was done being the fool.

"A surprise," I repeated. "Is that why you told me you were in Chicago? Is that why you canceled our dinner reservation, Ryan — so you could re-book the same table for my sister?"

"I didn't cancel anything. I moved it. For the surprise." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking through his composure. "God, Claire, why do you always have to assume the worst about me?"

The door to the women's restroom opened. Lily stepped out, freshly touched-up, looking like she'd walked off a magazine cover.

She put a gentle hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Is everything okay? Claire, you look really upset. I'm so sorry if I caused a misunderstanding."

Her eyes glistened with manufactured concern.

I knew that look. I'd been seeing it my whole life. Every time Lily broke my toys as a child, she'd cry first, and I'd be the one who got punished for "making my little sister sad."

"Lily, take off my bracelet."

She blinked, her hand drifting to the diamonds at her wrist. "Your bracelet? Ryan gave this to me for my birthday. Didn't you, Ryan?"

She looked up at him, and I watched my husband hesitate.

One second. Two.

That hesitation told me everything.

"Ryan." My voice was steady now, the trembling replaced by something harder. "That bracelet has an inscription on the inside of the clasp. Our wedding date and the words 'Forever, R.' If this is really a different bracelet, then it won't have that inscription, will it?"

The color drained from Lily's face.

Ryan opened his mouth, closed it, and for the first time since I'd known him, had absolutely nothing to say.

"Take it off," I said again.

Lily's fingers fumbled with the clasp. When it finally came free, I took it from her and turned it over.

There it was. Engraved in Ryan's own handwriting.

Forever, R.

I looked at my husband. "How long?"

Silence.

"How long, Ryan?"

He swallowed. "Claire, it's not what you think—"

"How. Long."

It was Lily who answered, her voice suddenly stripped of all its sweetness, a cold little smile curling her lips.

"Two years."

The ground tilted under my feet. Two years. Out of our three-year marriage.

Ryan grabbed Lily's arm. "Lily, shut up—"

"Why?" Lily shrugged him off, looking straight at me. "She asked. She deserves to know, doesn't she?"

She stepped closer, her perfume — my perfume, I realized — filling the narrow corridor.

"Two years, Claire. Since the Christmas party at Dad's house. You passed out early from the champagne, remember? Ryan carried you to bed and then came back downstairs."

She tilted her head, studying me like I was something pitiful.

"He came back downstairs to me."