The one Camila got me hooked on years ago in France.
“I know things have been strained,” he says, nodding toward the bottle. “With you moving, me traveling, I thought we could celebrate. Reset before I head back.”
My heart drops. Please don’t be nice to me right now.
The cork pops, sharp and sudden, jolting me back to reality. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice low but steady. “Can you take that back, please?”
Corey’s brows knit, looking between the waitress and me. The confident set of his shoulders dipping slightly. “Take what back?”
“The champagne.” I grip the edge of the table, the linen bunched under my fingers. “We won’t be celebrating or resetting tonight.”
20
Maddie
“We don’t haveto rush the marriage, Madeline. We can have a drawn-out engagement. Years if you want.”
“Corey.”
“I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
A thick, awkward silence falls between us when I don’t answer right away. “I’m sorry.”
“This can’t be happening. Did I do something specific? Tell me what I did and I’ll change. I swear it, Madeline.”
The raw edge in his tone catches me off guard.
I drop my head, my throat tightening. I came here expecting him to fight tooth and nail, to make it easy for me to walk away.
The man in front of me is the one I first fell for.
“You did nothing wrong.”
It’s not a lie.
He gave me all he had, and I was the one who pretended it was enough. “I’m the messed-up one.”
“No, you’re not. You’re perfect. We can work through this. I’ll move to New York for a while, and we’ll figure it all out.”
I blink, taken aback.
He hates New York.
When I took the job at M-Squared, we never made a solid plan for how to make it work. That should have been our first red flag. He expected me to come home on weekends until I eventually moved back to Georgia. A future I never wanted but never spoke up about.
A regret that now claws at me.
He takes my hand over the table, and I squeeze it once before letting go. “You’ll find someone who appreciates you the way you deserve.”
“Don’t say that. You’re that person.”
I shake my head. “I’m not, Corey. I’m so sorry,” I say again. Lost for words.
He downs his scotch in one long swallow, the glass hitting the table harder than necessary. “Why did you say yes?” His fingers scrub over his face. “Am I that fucking clueless? I never saw this coming.”
My stomach churns with shame. I’m a terrible person.
“I should never have accepted. But when you asked me in front of everyone, I froze. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
