Whether I want it to or not.
My pulse kicks up another notch into what I can only assume is turbo speed, and I let Marcie lead me over to the corner of the ballroom. I’m supposed to be on the stage, starting the auction. I’m the one who is announcing each item, taking the bids, raising thousands of dollars for the children’s hospital. A cause I care deeply about.
It suddenly doesn’t seem to matter much.
Nothing matters much.
I feel like I’m walking in a haze.
“We can find someone else to go up there,” Marcie says.
Then... cold clarity.
I face her, certain she’s been talking to me for a lot longer than I’ve been listening. I shake my head, grit my teeth, and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “No. This is my responsibility. I can do it.”
“Claire...”
“No.I made a commitment,” I say, voice faltering ever so slightly. “And unlike some people, that means something to me.”
I see John walk into the back of the ballroom, and behind him, the showgirl.
“How old do you think she is?” I ask out loud to nobody in particular.
Marcie follows my gaze. “Twenty-seven.”
I turn away and wince, but when I meet Marcie’s eyes, I realize—she knew about this too.
“You don’t have to go up there,” she says.
“I’mfine.”
I’m not fine.
But I grab the handheld microphone and walk up onto the stage. My legs are wobbly, and I’m thankful I woresensibleshoes. No, my simple black dress with cap sleeves and full coverage can’t compete with silver sequins and a very short skirt, but at least I’m less likely to fall down.
At the sight of me, the room goes still. I look around the sea of faces, all poised to pledge money to a very worthy cause. John’s coworkers and their wives are here. The other members of the school board are here. The entire teaching and administrative staff are here.
And they’re all looking at me.
I’ve known these people most of my adult life. Some of them since the day John started working at his father’s advertising agency. The goal was always for him to become the CEO, and he’d done it. Last year, when his father retired, he handed the keys of his advertising kingdom over to John. They’d had a reception to celebrate. I’d stood by John’s side, smiling and shaking hands and making small talk like a dutiful wife.
Anything else had never crossed my mind.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I start to sweat, my breathing more shallow by the second. How long have I been standing here?
In the back, I see the blonde take a step toward John, whose eyes are fixed on me. But I know he’s not watching because he’s worried about me—he’s watching because he’s worried I’ll make a scene.
John is very big on public perception.
I’ve always respected that he has a reputation to maintain. But in this moment, standing here in front of friends and coworkers—I simply don’t care.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I say into the microphone. “Before we begin tonight, I’d like to draw your attention to the back of the room where my husband is standing with the woman he’s sleeping with.”
A collective gasp echoes through the room.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be surprised,” I say. “I overheard Roxie Cartwright and Lainey Russell in the bathroom and it’s pretty obvious that this affair is one of those well-known secrets. At least it is to all of you. Apparently, I’m the only one who had no idea.” I laugh wryly, then mutter quietly, “The wife is always the last to know.”
A low murmur makes its way around the room, and I look at the faces of the people I thought were my friends. Obviously, there is no way theyallknew about John’s affair, but I’m not thinking clearly enough to make that distinction.
