He even leans forward, as though he might cross the floor and the invisible line between us, but he doesn't.
Instead, he bends closer to Lisa, answering her. Then his eyes snap back to me, like he can't help himself.
Lisa leans closer to him, whispering in his ear, pulling him into normalcy.
I hate how well she's been playing the perfect wife tonight. I want her gone.
I can't do anything, though, so I just sway the other way to at least avoid seeing them, and that's when I notice Richard finishing his call.
Smoothing his collar, he walks straight for me with that smile, like we're still some fairytale couple.
I think he even winked at the idiot I've been—he orchestrated this whole thing, and weaponized me to hurt Ben, which makes me furious. Really furious.
Richard's almost there, weaving past Mara, his hand already reaching out for me.
I look at it and think of Ben at the bar, heartbroken because of me. I think of all the times I waited, reluctant to make a decision so I don't make the wrong one, and as a result, I made none, which was the cruelest one of all.
Richard opens his mouth, but I speak first.
"No," I say coldly. The simplest word in history that I never learned to say. But enough is enough.
I let Richard falter, his hand hanging in the air like a question, as I turn away.
My legs carry me before I even know I'm moving, a clarity so fierce it feels holy.
The room dissolves—the glasses clinking, laughter breaking as I walk toward Ben and it feels like I'm walking toward myself.
I push through the last couple and then I'm in front of him.
His hand stalls, glass halfway to his mouth when he spots me.
Lisa stiffens, something in her expression flattening, but she steps aside.
Three steps. Three steps is all it takes—
And then I’m on him.
My fingers find his shirt first, fistfuls of black fabric, dragging him down, tethering myself to those dark eyes. A fraction of a second, but they reflect everything: the boy in the DJ booth eight years ago, spinning tracks, flashing that smirk when he asked if we'd met before like he felt it too—that we were lovers in every life before. That we will be in everyone to come.
"Ben, I want the mornings, the fights, the mundane. I want all of it, with you," I say, my eyes locked on his.
He freezes, doesn't even blink, like he can't believe it.
"It's never—never—been anyone but you," I say and press my palm to his jaw like an oath.
A smile breaks on his lips, and he hauls me close, his fingers tilting my chin to him.
"Finally," he says. Our lips crash together, and I kiss himlike he's mine—like he's only ever been mine.
Somewhere around us, the world intrudes with cameras as though we're the newlyweds, but I'm too lost in him.
Until a scream splits the air—his name.
31
It's Lisa. Her face has been drained of all color and she stands there with her mouth open.
"Seriously?" She slams her glass down, the water sloshing over the rim before it topples and breaks. "How could you do this to me? Here? In front of everyone!"
