I looked to Bryce and Celia for answers, but they were conveniently talking to others.
I sipped my wine slowly as I watched Thatcher dance with the beautiful woman who would star in the new campaign he, Bryce, and Celia had worked on together. I wondered how much contact he’d had with this woman. My mind flashed to all of Thatcher’s late nights. Could he be spending all of that time with this stunning woman? I dismissed the thought. Thatcher’s worst fear was becoming a philandering asshole like his father. Still, I couldn’t shake my feelings of unease. Seeing them dance together didn’t help. They seemed unusually comfortable with each other. I was glad when the dance was over and other couples started moving out on the floor.
Before long, we moved to the tables for dinner, and I was relieved when Thatcher came to sit by me. “Hey,” I said, rubbing his leg under the table.
“Hey, baby,” he kissed my cheek. “Sorry to have neglected you tonight. I hope everything’s going alright.”
Besides being eviscerated by his mother and him dancing with an elegant spokesmodel? It was fine.
Bryce, Celia, Olive, and their dates joined our table.
As did Madison Welles. She sat directly across from Thatcher, and I noticed him tense up when she sat down.
Everyone seemed to.
I waited for Thatcher to introduce me, but he didn’t. Finally, I introduced myself. “Hey, I’m Carrie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.” I reached out my hand for her to shake.
Madison’s smile wasn’t exactly friendly. She stared at my hand long enough that I thought she wasn’t going to shake it. Confused, I started to pull back, but she finally gave my hand a limp shake.
“Charmed.”
Olive snickered as everyone else remained silent. I looked around, not understanding the tension at the table. No one would meet my eyes.
I bent towards Thatcher. “What’s going on?” I whispered in his ear.
He brushed off the question. “Everything’s fine.”
Nothing felt fine, but I decided to just eat the delicious food to help soak up all the wine I’d had to drink.
Bryce and Celia provided most of the conversation as they peppered Madison with questions about the campaign.
I was beginning to think Madison Welles was socially awkward and that’s all there was to it. I’d even started to relax and enjoy myself a little bit. Then, midway through dinner, Olive dropped a bombshell.
“Thatcher, how does it feel to be spending so much time with Madison again?”
I glanced at her. “Again?” I asked. What did she mean?
Olive put a hand over her mouth feigning surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t Thatcher tell you? He and Madison…”
“They dated through high school,” Celia blurted, covering up whatever Olive was going to say.
I whipped my head around to stare at Thatch. “You… dated her?” I studied Thatcher’s profile. His jaw was clenched so hard I was a little worried about his teeth.
“I did.” He cut into his lobster, trying to act unbothered by the line of questioning.
“Oh.” I looked across the table at Madison. She gave me a quick little smile that was not friendlyat alland stared at Thatcher with undisguised possessiveness in her eyes, as if he still belonged to her.
“Wow. Thatch hasn’t trusted you withanything, has he? Poor thing. That must hurt.” Olive gave me a mock sympathetic look.
I was trying to maintain a polite smile on my face, but it was starting to falter. I glanced around. Why wasn’t Thatcher saying anything? I glanced at Bryce and Celia for some sort of clue about what exactly was going on, but they were staring at their plates. What hadn’t Thatcher trusted me with? Was it more than the fact that he’d dated this goddess in high school? That was bad enough already.
“Thatch,” Madison said, ignoring the conversation. “Can we go to La Maison for lunch again on Monday?”
“You’ve… taken her to La Maison?” I asked Thatcher, unable to hide the hurt in my voice. He got very still and didn’t look up from his plate.
Madison laughed quietly. “Taken me? My God. We go all the time. I told him last night that it’s become our place.”
My eyes jerked to hers, and I felt my face go pale. My heart was pounding, and I felt as if I couldn’t take a full breath. Last night? Thatcher had told me he had a meeting last night.
