The whole table stops breathing.
Mara's lips part, then clamp shut. She makes a regretful face at Ben for letting the name slip but he's not with her anymore—his eyes drag across the table until they lock on me.
"My wife."
My brain lags.
His...... wife.
His... wife.
His. Wife.
And then it hits—in a heartbeat that feels like a hammer while everything in me folds inward.
I nod. "Uhum." Casual. Polite.Like I didn't just leave mybody. Like I'm not halfway across the city, barefoot, screaming.
Holy fuck.
Ben is married.
6
So what if he's married, right? My marriage should be enough to make me immune, make me wish him someone nice, with an actual skincare routine and personal boundaries, unlike me. I didn't actually expect him to stay single, knew there'd be a lineup of women ready to trip over themselves just to be near him.
But married?! That's not flirty smiles and bar stools.
That's signatures, a mortgage you split, and a freakingtill death do us part.
And why the hell isn't he wearing the ring? I would have clocked it in an instant.
My chest feels like a raisin and I don't think I'm doing a good job keeping my guard up. My face must be a slump, because Mara studies me with genuine worry.
She clears her throat a little too pointedly and gets up. Something about the bathroom.
I start to rise too, ready to bolt, but she lifts her hand.
"One stall, babe. Sorry."
"Oh. Right." I sit and try to calm down. Scrunch the hem of my sleeve—anything to cope with the worst moment of my life.
When Mara disappears inside, it hits me: one stall? She's never been here before. That pink trickster. She obviously wants us to talk, but there's nothing to talk about. It's over.
Ben hasn't moved yet—he's pretending to lounge. A bit too laid back in my opinion.
When the silence drags into something unbearable, he breaks it. "You're quiet. That's rare."
"Maybe I've evolved."
"Doubt it," he says, and I feel him prowling at the edge of my vision. "You can't even look at me though?"
"Do you need me to?" I still don't.
"No. Just didn't know you were that afraid of me now."
"I'm not afraid of you." I force my gaze up, all bluff bravery in my tone. "We're not at war."
He cocks an eyebrow, something unreadable crossing his face. "Really?"
