We met at a gallery opening.
Julian worked in entertainment consulting.
We both liked old films.
He hated olives.
I loved them.
We had supposedly spent a weekend in Charleston.
“Physical affection?” he asked.
“Hand-holding is fine.”
“Arm around waist?”
“Fine.”
“Kissing?”
I nearly choked.
“Absolutely not.”
He lifted both hands.
“Professional boundaries. Understood.”
By the time we left the café, I felt strangely calm.
Saturday was supposed to be revenge.
I didn’t know it was about to become something far messier.
The afternoon of Mason’s wedding, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror wondering whether I had lost my mind.
I wore a deep emerald dress with an open back, simple gold earrings, and heels that were beautiful enough to justify the pain they would inevitably cause.
At exactly five thirty, my doorbell rang.
Julian stood outside in a black tuxedo.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Your ex is going to have an extremely difficult evening.”
I laughed.
“That’s what I’m paying you for.”
Julian offered his arm.
“No. You’re paying me to eat expensive food and lie convincingly.”
“And the existential crisis?”
“Complimentary.”
We drove to the vineyard.
The ceremony began at five.
We arrived at six fifteen.
That part was deliberate.
I had no desire to watch Mason promise lifelong loyalty to a woman he’d met while breaking that same promise to me.
I wanted the reception.
The crowd.
The moment of recognition.
Nothing more.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Hawthorne Ridge looked like something from a bridal magazine.
String lights stretched across the terrace.
White roses covered the tables.
A jazz quartet played beside the fountain.
Waiters moved between guests carrying champagne.
Julian stepped out of the car first and offered me his hand.
“You ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
I stared at him.
He smiled.
“Confidence is just panic with better posture.”
I laughed, took his arm, and walked inside.
People noticed us immediately.
Some of them were former friends.
Some were Mason’s colleagues.
Several had attended our wedding seven years earlier.
I saw recognition flicker across their faces.
Then curiosity.
Then the inevitable glance toward Julian.
I straightened my shoulders.
For the first time, I understood the brilliance of having an actor beside me.
Julian never looked uncertain.
He leaned toward me when I spoke.
His hand rested lightly against my back.
Whenever someone stared too long, he smiled at me like I was the only person in the room.
It was convincing.
Almost dangerously convincing.
Then I saw Mason.
He was standing near the bar with two men from his firm.
His face brightened when he noticed me.
For half a second, he looked pleased.
He had gotten what he wanted.
His lonely ex-wife had arrived.
Then his eyes moved to Julian.
And Mason stopped smiling.
I had imagined that moment dozens of times.
I expected irritation.
Jealousy.
Maybe surprise.
What I saw was something entirely different.
Fear.
Mason’s champagne glass froze halfway to his mouth.
His face drained of color.
Beside me, Julian stopped walking.
I felt the muscles in his arm tighten.
“Julian?”
He didn’t answer.
He was looking past Mason.
Toward the bride.
Vanessa stood near the center of the room wearing a fitted satin gown, speaking with an older couple.
She turned.
Her gaze landed on me.
Then on Julian.
The smile vanished from her face.
She dropped her champagne glass.
It hit the floor and shattered.
Several people turned.
I stared at Julian.
“What the hell is happening?”
His jaw tightened.
Then, without looking at me, he whispered,
“Keep smiling.”
“Why?”
“Because I know the bride.”
My stomach twisted.
“How?”
He finally looked at me.
“Claire…”
He took a breath.
“Vanessa was my fiancée.”
For one second, every sound in the room disappeared.
I stared at him.
“Your what?”
“We were engaged.”
“You knew she was marrying Mason?”
“No.”
“Julian—”
“I swear to you, I had no idea.”
Across the room, Mason was already coming toward us.
Fast.
Julian lowered his voice.
“I’ll explain everything. But not here.”
I should have left.
Any rational person would have.
Instead, I looked at Mason approaching with panic written all over his face.
Then at Vanessa, who looked like she’d seen a dead man walk into her wedding reception.
And something inside me said:
Not yet.
I slipped my hand into Julian’s.
“Then smile.”
He looked at me.
“You sure?”
“No.”
I smiled anyway.
“Let’s go ruin a wedding.”
Mason reached us halfway across the ballroom.
“Claire.”
“Mason.”
His eyes darted toward Julian.
“You came.”
“You invited me.”
“Yes, but…”
His gaze moved between us.
“I thought you were coming alone.”
I smiled pleasantly.
“I changed my mind.”
Julian placed his hand around my waist.
Mason noticed.
Good.
Then Mason looked directly at Julian.
“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
That caught my attention.
So Mason knew Julian.
Interesting.
I tilted my head.
“Apparently everyone knows everyone tonight.”
Before Mason could answer, Vanessa appeared behind him.
She wasn’t smiling.
Her eyes were locked on Julian.
“What are you doing here?”
Julian remained perfectly calm.
“Attending a wedding.”
“With her?”
Vanessa pointed at me like I was a piece of evidence.
I almost laughed.
“Yes,” I said. “With me.”
Vanessa looked at Mason.
“Why is Claire here?”
Mason rubbed his jaw.
“I invited her.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You what?”
“I thought it would be mature.”
“You told me we weren’t inviting exes.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Mason glanced around.
Guests were starting to notice.
His voice dropped.
“Can we not do this here?”
Vanessa’s expression hardened.
“You invited your ex-wife to our wedding without telling me.”
“I just wanted her to see that everything worked out.”
Silence.
Even Julian looked impressed.
Vanessa blinked.
“You wanted her to see us?”
Mason realized too late what he’d admitted.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Vanessa—”
“No. You wanted her here so she could watch you marry me.”
Several nearby conversations had stopped.
Mason noticed.
His face tightened.
“Please lower your voice.”
That was classic Mason.
Not I’m sorry.
Not you’re right.
Just:
Don’t embarrass me.
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Our wedding wasn’t enough for you?”
“Of course it was.”
“Then why did your ex-wife need to witness it?”
Mason looked at me like this was somehow my fault.
And suddenly I felt seventeen times lighter.
Because I knew that look.
I had spent years thinking I caused it.
Now I was watching him give it to someone else.
That was when Vanessa turned toward Julian.
“And why are you here with her?”
I smiled.
“My boyfriend?”
Julian glanced at me.
Something amused flickered in his eyes.
Then he drew me closer.
“Yes.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
“You’re dating?”
“That’s usually what boyfriend means,” I said.
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?”
See more on the next page
