I stand near the entrance of the restaurant, pretending to study the wine list even though my stomach is a tight knot. The place is busy, polished, loud enough that conversations blur but quiet enough that every head turns when someone new walks in. The lighting is warm. The tables are spaced closely. It's the kind of place where gossip sits in the corner like an extra guest.
Perfect.
At the long table beside the windows, the women Gabe contacted sit in a loose semicircle. Some brought their friends. Some look angry enough to flip the table. Some look like they came here only for closure but are now enjoying the idea of something far better.
I spot Mia first. Pretty, tiny, bob haircut, jaw set like she's ready for war. She waves me over.
"You sure you want to be here when this blows?" she asks, sliding her purse onto the floor.
"Yes," I say. "I'm done hiding from him."
"Good," she mutters. "Because I've got a speech prepared."
Another girl leans forward. "I brought screenshots." She taps her phone. "Many, many screenshots."
A woman on the far side lifts her glass. "I'm here because he told me he wanted a future with me, then disappeared the day after he slept with me."
"That happened to me too," someone else says.
"And me."
"And me."
I settle into the empty chair among them, my pulse steady now. There's something powerful about being surrounded by people who know exactly who the villain in the story is.
"He's late," Mia says, checking her watch. "I swear, if he tries to bail?—"
"He won't." I take a breath. "Gabe said he'd make sure."
Right on cue, the door swings open.
Tom steps in like he's the star of something, same smirk, same swagger that crumbles fast the second he spots the group of us. His eyes flick over the table. His smile disappears. He stops walking.
He turns.
Gabe is behind him.
Gabe places a slow, steady hand on his shoulder and leans in just enough to speak. I can't hear the words, but whatever he says isshort and ends with Tom's shoulders dropping like lead. He tries a small laugh, something weak, something nervous.
Gabe doesn't laugh back.
He nudges him toward us. Not roughly. Just firmly. Tom stumbles in that direction like a man headed for a firing squad.
"Oh, look," Mia says loudly. "Prince Charming has arrived."
Laughter breaks across the table.
Tom reaches us with a shaky little wave. "Lena… hi. This is… a lot of people."
I fold my hands on the table. "Sit."
He sits.
Every woman leans in a little.
One of them clears her throat. "So. Before we begin, can you tell us which one of us is the ‘special connection' you told each of us we were? Because apparently, we all won that prize."
Tom's eyes widen. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."
