"I'm not. I just don't understand—"
"If he really loves you, he'll be okay with it. You made your choice," he says, trying to fight his tears back. "But we'll go together. Last trip. Like I said."
My face crumples, and so does my voice. "Richard, it's a terrible idea, you know that."
He drags in a breath and steps back. "I know that, but what do you want me to do? Just disappear from your life all in one night? You want to end us like that? We still care for each other, no?"
I swallow. "Yeah. I just don't want you to think that we're going to—"
"I don't," he says, fast. "When we get back, we start planning the closure. The house. The assets. Everything. I'll prepare my lawyer. Deal?"
When I don't say anything, his gaze sharpens. "He will be there with Lisa anyway. She told me. It will be better for you to come with me."
It's insane to even consider it, but he's right that this isn't some romantic reunion. It's a family event that's not about me and Ben.
Maybe if I give Richard this, he'll let us unravel without his usual spite.
We'll end like civilized people without burning the whole book to ash.
"Okay," I say, but I hate it.
Hate how much easier surrender feels than fighting.
Hate the counterfeit relief it brings, and the regret already knotting in my throat.
And I don't even yet know how much darker it's about to get.
29
Ben is drunk. Not champagne-wedding-toast drunk—the kind of drunk when you're trying to kill every nerve ending before it kills you.
Sitting through the ceremony was excruciating.
I cried more than Mara's mother because Ben stood by the altar and every time his eyes found mine, it was so naked, so gut-deep, one of us had to look away, usually me.
Because I am the woman sleeping with the bride's brother—the bride who despises cheaters and comes from a Christian family where loyalty isn't a value but a creed.
The two days in New York before the wedding had lulled me. Richard was very charming—gentle, even. The dinner with the governor went amazingly and he was grateful I joined him, as his friend.
We went to the opera, watched Otello from our private balcony while Richard whispered ridiculous translations in my ear, making Desdemona sound like she was scolding Othello for not doing the dishes.
I laughed so hard the other people shushed us and for once Richard didn't care about his image, but gave them a death stare.
We grabbed a food truck kebab on our way back to the hotel, laughing, drafting absurd divorce contracts where I'd keep the good wine glasses, and I teased him about his awful wedding speech in which he actually joked about how costly ourdivorce would be. He joked that I'll always be his favorite tax deduction.
Did I know what he was doing? Yeah. But it felt dangerously good to imagine we could end this with dignity.
Then cut to today.
The second we arrived at the venue, I didn't even see Ben and Richard's mask dropped.
Naturally, Ben and I haven't had a minute alone because he's been very busy, making sure everything goes smoothly for his little sister. He's also been very busy avoiding me.
And by the way, for how fiery Ben can be, when he gives you a cold shoulder, it's ice.
However, in those few occurrences when his shoulder did brush mine, Richard's there, hand on my back like a wall I never agreed to build.
Not even cousin Maria, undeniably the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen, could distract him as she batted her eyes and asked him to dance. His hand stayed locked to my waist while he politely turned her down.
