Page 85 of Cruel Lies

"Ex-wife," I correct over Ronan's shoulder.

Todd's head snaps toward me. Ronan shifts a half inch, just enough to block the eyeline, and Todd's attention goes back to him.

"You have two options," Ronan says. He's smiling now, but it's a nasty one. The last time I saw it, a grown man had a very embarrassing public accident right afterward. "You can walk with me somewhere quiet and we can have a conversation. Or you can make a scene in front of every person you've ever wanted to impress, and I'll be the one to decide how that scene ends." He tilts his head. "I'd think carefully. You've had a hard couple of months. Best not to make it worse."

Todd sputters wordlessly, but we can all tell by the way his shoulders sag that he's made the wiser choice.

"Good man," Ronan says softly. "Come on."

He puts a hand on Todd's shoulder, friendly-looking to anybody watching, and steers him off toward a set of doors at the side of the ballroom. Todd goes willingly. He glances back just once. I don't give him the satisfaction of a sneer or a glance away. I just follow him with my eyes, blankly, as my date escorts him off the dance floor like a busboy taking out the trash.

The doors close behind them.

And then it's just me, standing at the edge of the dance floor with the band still playing.

Oh.

And Paula.

She's a few feet away. She must have followed Todd over. Up close, the sequins of her dress look cheap and tacky. It's not the right kind of thing for a place like this—a little too short in the leg, a little too much cleavage up top—and by the way she keeps fidgeting and plucking at it, I think she knows that everything about this is wrong.

She inches closer, lip trembling. "Hi, Cali."

"Paula."

There are so many things I could say to her. None of them are very nice. But what I'm finding is that, now that the moment is finally here to spit in her face or give her the cold shoulder or even launch into the feral catfight from hell, I don't really want to do any of them.

I don't hate her. I don't envy her.

Truth be told, I don't feel anything toward her at all.

"You look incredible," she mumbles.

I laugh. "You already used that one. Remember that? About a month ago, in the car line at school?"

Her forced smile fades. "I meant it."

"I know you did." And I really do. It's easy to pity a woman who doesn't know you're fucking her husband. "I bet you thought that was really funny."

"No!" Her mouth opens. "That's not?—"

"Stop right there," I interrupt. "You don't get to make me feel crazy for saying the truth out loud. Todd did that for ten years. I'm not doing it again with you."

Paula's eyes shine with tears. She reaches out like she's going to touch my arm and then thinks better of it and pulls back.

"I never meant for it to go this far," she whimpers.

I cock my head to the side. "Oh, no? How far did you mean for it to go?"

"Cal, please?—"

"You slept in my bed." I keep my voice even. People are floating around us, glittering, chattering, none of them paying attention. This is a conversation you could miss if you weren't standing right in it. "You used my hairbrush. You left your mascara in my medicine cabinet. You slithered into my life and exiled me out of it."

Her lip is wobbling now and the tears are clinging to the tips of her eyelashes. "I didn't think about it like that."

"No. You didn't think about it at all. You just saw what you wanted and took it." I shake my head. "You're spoiled rotten, you know that? I always used to joke that it was Paula's world and we were all just living in it. But that's really how you think. All those times I thought you were there for me… Maid of honor at my wedding, by my side when Isabella was born… Was any of that real? Or were you just setting up to move in?

"Yes!" she cries as the tears spill over, running black through her makeup. "Of course it was! You were my best friend."