Kate stared at me like I’d slapped her. Her eyes flashed.
“It doesn’t matter?” she echoed.
“To me,” I corrected quickly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It clearly means something,” she shot back. “She’s standing right there.”
Tamara hummed like she was enjoying this far too much.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said lightly. “But Finlay, we should talk. Soon.”
“Not now,” I said without turning towards her.
“Of course,” she said. Then to Kate, “It was lovely meeting you.”
It didn’t sound like she meant it.
I watched as she turned and walked away, heels clicking, rejoining her entourage and disappearing into the crowd like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of our table.
Kate didn’t look at me. She just reached for her bag, her hands shaking.
“I need to go,” she said.
“Kate—”
“I said I need to go.”
She turned and walked back into the hotel.
I was moving before the door even swung shut behind her. I begged her all the way up the stairs to stop and talk to me, but she furiously denied me and stormed into our room.
The door slammed in my face hard enough to rattle the frame.
I took a breath and opened the door, cursing myself for not telling her sooner, for not sorting things out with Tamara months ago.
Kate stood in the middle of the room, back to me, arms wrapped around herself.
I slowly shut the door behind me, scared I would startle her into running again if I was too loud.
“Say something,” she said, spinning towards me.
“Kate—”
“Say something that makes sense.”
“She’s nothing to me,” I said, stepping closer. “Hasn’t been for years.”
“Then why is she still your wife?” she fired back.
I didn’t answer straight away.
Her face fell just a fraction. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“Everything with you is complicated,” she snapped. “You don’t get to decide what matters to me, Finn.”
I stopped in front of her, close enough to see the hurt she was trying to hide. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t real,” I said, quieter now. “Not the way this is.”