Theo’s jaw ticks like he doesn’t believe me.
One song passes.
Then another.
People circle the table. Donors, board members, wives with diamonds that catch the light when they gesture.
I answer questions about event planning. I laugh at something Elliot says.
And still, Julian doesn’t come back.
Then I see him.
For one humiliating second, relief flares, because he’s walking in our direction.
And then he veers.
And he steps onto the dance floor.
With another woman.
Not the same one as before.
Another stunning, perfect woman who looks like she was selected, curated, and approved.
My stomach sinks so hard I almost feel it in my throat.
I stare at my champagne flute because I can’t stare at him.
I remind myself, again, that he owes me nothing.
But my chest aches anyway.
Because he brought me here.
He sent the dress.
He made it feel, just for a moment, like he wanted me here because hewanted me.
And now I’m sitting at his table while he dances with other women.
If this is how his world works, I want no part of it.
Theo is watching the dance floor now, expression dark. Not confused.
Angry.
Rowan’s gaze flicks to me, sharp and quiet.
Caleb watches his drink like he’s not watching anything.
I keep smiling.
It feels like my face is going to crack.
A donor couple approaches and asks how I know Julian.
I say something neutral. Something safe. I laugh at the right times.
