When we arrived at the gala, held at a sleek waterfront venue in Newport, decked out in balloon arches and twinkling lights, there was already a line at the step-and-repeat. We paused for a photo under a silver banner, “A Night to Shine.”
And then I saw him, standing by the bar in a tux, looking criminally good, Bond-level good. He was with his sister, Sarah. Our eyes met, and I felt my body react before my mind had the chance to catch up. My breath caught, and my knees softened. My senses were on high alert. I ached for him.
Tate handed Camille and I glasses of wine as my phone buzzed.
Will: You look lovely
I looked up and caught his eyes again. The look he gave me made heat rush to my cheeks. He wanted me, and I wanted him.
Will: Think they’ve got a spare ballroom we could sneak into?
Camille glanced over and gave me a knowing smirk. “I’m going to say a few hellos,” she whispered, kissing the air beside my cheek before gliding off. She was more social than I was. Always had been. I’d never felt the need to be part of the inner circle of school moms.
Then I saw the whispers start.
Heads turned. Eyes darted to the entrance.
Jason had arrived.
He looked good, he always did. Tall, tailored, slightly untouchable, the kind of man who knew the room would stop when he walked in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“I can’t believe you made it,” I replied.
“I’m here. Exhausted—but here.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and for a brief second, it felt like we were back in sync. Until I remembered how much effort it took him to show up at all.
“Well,” I said, smoothing my dress, “let’s get you a drink and a paddle.”
We made our way to the bar, where Camille and Tate were waiting.
“You made it!” Camille said, in that perfect French-laced tone that made everything sound slightly more glamorous than it was.
“What’s up, man,” Tate said, shaking hands with Jason before the two of them dove into a conversation about business, the only thing Jason seemed capable of talking about anymore.
Camille turned to me. “I think you need a photo booth break,” she said, winking.
We slipped into the booth and cycled through props—sunglasses, fake mustaches, party hats. For a few minutes, we laughed like teenagers at sleepaway camp. Then it was time for dinner and bidding.
On the way to our table, I passed Will. Our shoulders almost brushed. I didn’t look directly at him, but I felt every molecule shift. My steps slowed. The air changed. I could smell his cologne. I wanted to reach out, just to feel the weight of his hand on mine, but I kept walking.
The auction kicked off with no time wasted: trips to Cabo, a private jet day trip to Napa, custom designeruniform set (Whywouldn’t your child need Victoria Beckham to design your outfit that you will most likely spill chocolate milk on?), private tennis lessons.
Then came the puppy. Camille leaned toward me. “Imagine the hangover of waking up to that—$11,000 and 15 years of barking and poop.”
I laughed. “You’re not wrong. I love dogs, but that’s a commitment.”
Then came the most absurd one of all—dinner at Nobu with an original cast member of The Real Housewives of Orange County, complete with a selfie session and a signed bottle of rosé from her personal label. It went for $9,800… and somehow felt like a steal.
“I’m going to slip over to the ladies’ room,” I whispered, excusing myself.
Once out of sight, I checked my phone. Nothing from Will. Obviously, he saw Jason.
Jason showing up threw me. Was this his idea of showing effort? A marriage-saving gesture? Or was he just making an appearance for appearances’ sake? He was so addicted to work, to control, to looking like the perfect partner. I wasn’t sure he even remembered what real connection felt like.
I needed air. I walked past the bathrooms and toward the small outdoor patio. Will was standing under the string lights by the fountain, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted toward the ground. The soft ripple of the water behind him filled the silence in a way that only made it seem louder. He looked up the moment he heard me.
“Hello, you,” I said, my voice breathy with nerves I couldn’t hide.
