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I roll my eyes so hard I’m fairly certain I catch a glimpse of my own brain. Jamie sees it and bites down on his lip, shoulders twitching with suppressed laughter.

“The second,” my mother corrects with a pleasant smile. “My son Alexander is the youngest CFO among the top companies in the country.”

“Oh, of course, how could I forget?” Regina waves that away with alarming speed before diving right back into her favorite hymn. “Jake will be exceptional, I’m sure. He’s so intelligent. So sophisticated.”

“I’m sure he will be,” my mother replies with a stiff smile.

“And who else is going to keep him steady in a position like that except my Tristan?” Regina continues warmly. “That man cannot do without Tristan.”

I grind my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t splinter.

Across from me, Tristan goes very still.

“Ma—” he begins.

“Oh, don’t start,” she cuts in, waving him off as if he were a dramatic teenager rather than a grown man. “I’m only saying what everyone can see.”

Jamie leans back in his chair, already exhausted. “This should be good.”

Regina pretends he doesn’t exist.

“You and Jake are speaking again,” she goes on, now addressing Tristan directly as if she’s presenting evidence in a courtroom. “Civilly too, from what I know and what I’ve heard. That’s already more progress than anyone expected two years ago.”

The air in the room shifts.

It’s subtle. Small enough that nobody could point to it if asked.

But I feel it anyway.

“So you think they’re rekindling?” my mother asks, one eyebrow arching.

“I know they are,” Regina declares with impossible confidence. “I don’t know why Tristan insists on hiding it or pretending he doesn’t want him back.”

“Regina,” my mother warns carefully, in the exact tone adults use when they’ve recognized the emotional landmine but haven’t yet decided whether to step around it or step directly onto it.

But Regina is moving now, and women like her never stop once they’ve convinced themselves they’re being insightful.

“What?” she asks lightly. “I’m serious. They loved each other very much.” Her expression softens with memory, which somehow makes it worse. “And I’m sure they still do.”

“How did we even arrive at this conversation?” Tristan says, and there’s real irritation in his voice now, sharp-edged and clipped.

It should comfort me.

It doesn’t.

Because he’s angry that his mother is bringing it up—not because it isn’t true. He hasn’t denied it. He hasn’t said I don’t love Jake anymore. He hasn’t said anything that would actually put this thing to rest.

And suddenly my thoughts are everywhere at once.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What if he still is?

What if that’s what all of this is? What if him touching me, fucking me, looking at me like I mattered in those moments means he’s just using me to pass time while he rekindles with Jake? Just because he’s had me doesn’t mean he’s stopped loving Jake.

My pulse turns brutal.

I feel it at the base of my throat, in my wrists, in my temples. My chest constricts as Regina keeps talking about Tristan and Jake, about history and closeness, about all the things I don’t want to hear and cannot stop hearing.