I recognized a woman at the table, but I couldn’t place her. Maybe a singer? A reality TV star? I wasn’t sure.
The other men around the table were strangers to me, but two of them had that air to them that you only found in very wealthy individuals, and the third was hilariously and effortlessly funny.
The dealer seemed like he might be a retired pro from Vegas or Atlantic City—quiet, efficient, uninterested in anything but setting up the game.
It seemed like a good table.
I was offered champagne and cheap chain restaurant pizza as everyone lingered around.
“Are we waiting for someone?” I asked as I took a seat facing the door, taking a bite of my pizza.
“I think we’re waiting for one more,” the movie star said, turning his wrist to check his smart watch for the time.
“Anyone know who?” the woman asked.
“Buddy of mine who was in town,” one of the suits said, shrugging. “He’s a good player.”
And I, stupidly, thought nothing of it.
Not until I was fiddling with my chips.
Then the front door opened.
There was our final player.
My goddamn husband.
“You can’t be serious.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gazes moved from Harrison to me, curiosity piqued, brows raised.
“You two know each other?” the woman asked.
“He’s—”
“Her husband,” Harrison finished when I hesitated.
“Husband?” the woman asked, her gaze going pointedly to my left hand.
“Yeah, about that,” Harrison said, smooth charm oozing from his pores as he reached into his pocket. “You left these in the kitchen.”
He set the rings down toward the center of the table as he sat down across from me.
“Because I want a divorce,” I said, lifting my chin. And refusing to admit even to myself that I was happy to see those rings again.
One of the men at the table whistled. The movie star mumbled “drama” under his breath in a tone that suggested he was delighted about it.
“They’re yours regardless,” Harrison said, unbothered by my airing our dirty laundry out in public.
The woman took the rings and moved them close to me. “When a man says to keep expensive jewelry, you keep it,” she said, her voice only for the two of us.
I snatched them off the table and shoved them on my finger, annoyed with how relieved I felt with the weight of them there again.
“Let’s just play,” I said, glancing over at the dealer.
I imagined if I left, he would simply follow me.
