Ryan stared when I came downstairs.
“Wow.”
I smiled. “Good wow?”
“Definitely.”
At the party, reactions came almost immediately.
One of his coworkers blinked at me, then laughed.
“Ryan, your wife looks incredible!”
Ryan’s face lit up.
“I know, right?”
Something about the way he said it irritated me.
As if he’d trained me for this.
As if my body had been a project he’d supervised.
He kept one hand around my waist most of the evening and introduced me with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen in months.
“This is Claire.”
Every time someone complimented me, his grip tightened slightly.
I remembered the black dress.
The bathroom floor.
The way I’d covered my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me crying.
Now he looked at me as if I’d finally become worth showing off again.
While Ryan talked to someone from accounting, I noticed a woman near the bar watching him.
Not staring exactly.
Just watching.
When our eyes met, she quickly looked away and took a sip of her drink.
I thought nothing of it.
Not then.
On the drive home, Ryan rested a hand on my knee and grinned.
“See? I knew you still had it in you.”
I looked out the window.
“Mm-hm.”
A few days later, he came home carrying flowers.
Actual flowers.
I couldn’t remember the last time he’d brought me any.
He handed them over with a smile.
“You look like the woman I married again.”
I looked at the bouquet, then back at him and smiled.
“Then let me plan something special for us.”
His expression instantly brightened.
He thought I meant romance.
Maybe a few months earlier, I would have.
But by then, I’d started paying much closer attention.
Three days later, a message arrived from a number I didn’t recognize.
“I think we need to talk about Ryan.”
