“What if he decides he can’t?” I ask quietly.
“Then you will survive it,” she says gently. “Even if it hurts.”
I let out a breath and give a small, self-deprecating smile. “You must think I’m terrible.”
Claudia tilts her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think.” She pauses. “Why do you think I think that?”
I shrug. “I cheated on my husband. I lied to him about it. And now I seem more focused on him not talking to me than on what I actually did.”
She nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard for anyone to look at their own faults,” she says. “Because we can hide from everyone else, but not from ourselves.”
Biting my lip, I admit, “I didn’t go to the bar expecting to… you know.”
“Yes,” she says softly.
“But,” I continue, staring down at my cup, “it wasn’t the first time I’ve gotten even with a man in my life.”
Her expression shifts with interest. “Go on.”
I take a shaky breath.
“When Logan and I decided to get married, wedding planning was hell,” I say. “And not because of his mom, because of mine.”
Claudia glances at her phone when it buzzes on the table, then quietly flips it over and nods for me to continue.
“The woman who barely knew my major in college suddenly had an opinion on everything,” I continue. “The flowers, the cake, the guest list. She wanted control of it all.”
I shake my head at the memory.
“We had a fight about the dress. She wanted me to wear hers. Said if I didn’t, she wouldn’t call her friend to help us get the venue I wanted.”
Claudia’s eyebrows lift slightly.
“I wasn’t going to be blackmailed,” I say. “So, I asked my dad to step in. The coordinator was his friend too. I thought he’d back me up. I’d hoped.”
“But” she prompts.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Predictably, he said no. Told me he wouldn’t allow me to disrespect my mother.”
I imitate his stern tone like the joke it was.
“Anyway,” I go on, “the day of the wedding, not in the venue I wanted, he showed up expecting to walk me down the aisle.”
My throat tightens.
“And I told him no.” I shake my head. “I told him Simone’s dad was doing it instead.”
Claudia doesn’t comment on why I’m telling her all this.
“My dad cried through the whole ceremony,” I say quietly, staring out the window. “Afterward, Logan asked me if I felt bad.”
I swallow.
“And I didn’t. I honestly didn’t.”
I look back at her.
“When I followed that man to the back room,” I whisper, wiping at a tear, “I really thought I wouldn’t feel bad about it either. That Logan deserved it.”
