“Yep. You should have.”
I don’t pay him an excuse and quickly walk over to them. My steps are brisk. Not rushed, but not casual either because my legs suddenly want to give out with panic. I’m aware of every heartbeat, every tick of time. The champagne flutes in my hand trembling.
As I reach them, Iris notices me first. She smiles politely. Cece has her back to me. She doesn’t immediately react when I slide in next to her. So Ioffer the second flute to her. “There you go, baby,” I whisper low and soft.
She hesitates for a second, frowning like she’s doing some mental calculations. Then gently, “I’m good. Thank you, though.”
There’s some warmth in her voice. But there’s also distance. My stomach clenches.
She turns to Iris with that same easy grace. “Would you like it instead?”
“Oh—uh…” Iris gives a small nod. “Sure, thank you.” She takes the glass. A little too carefully like she’s avoiding any contact with me. Her overt caution is now sending uneasiness up my spine.
I don’t move from beside Cece, suddenly a ghost in my own moment. Then Iris says it. The thing that turns my blood to ice.
“As I was saying, Ms. Wentworth,” she says, continuing some conversation that was cut short by my arrival, “I’m really glad you understand. It’s honestly great that we all can move forwardprofessionally, you know.”
Wait—what?
My chest tightens.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
That’s what they were talking about?That?
My eyes shoot to Cece. She has that same weightless smile on her face. But I know what lies underneath that tiny imperceptible flicker.
It’s hurt. Plain hurt.
“I agree,” she says, nodding slowly. “It’s been what, a decade since you two broke up?”
Iris blinks, caught off guard. “Yes. A decade exactly.”
Shit. She already knew.
“Well, I’m really glad for your success,” Cece adds, tilting her head slightly. “Stanford is a great school, Iris.” Her voice is velvet, but I know her tells. The way she curls her fingers into loose fists. The small pause before ‘Stanford.’
Iris responds with a polite smile. “Oh, it was wonderful.”
Cece’s eyes stay kind through the blatant betrayal swimming in them. “I’ve heard a lot about his Stanford days,” she says lightly.
Yes, she has. Stories. Jokes. Class projects. The stupid startup ideas that flopped.Nevera serious girlfriend. But now, that ex-girlfriend is here. Making small talk with my fiancée.
The tension doesn’t escalate. If anything, it starts to ease, surprising me. The smiles become almost real. The words, a little less stiff. But I haven’t said a word. Because my throat wouldn’t allow me the dignity to defend myself from the indefensible.
So I stand there like a jackass with a frozen smile, watching my woman maneuver grace and history in real time.
But inside?I’m fucking spiraling.
EIGHT
Levi
The moment I cut the engine off, I sag. My hands grip the steering wheel as I try to calm myself down.
I’m picking Cece up for her parents’ anniversary party, but all I can think of is the conversation we had the night we signed the contract with Miller-Moore.
She could see the guilt on my face and perhaps that is why she gracefully gave me a chance to explain myself. But it had gone downhillfast.
