“You’re being paid to say things like that.”
“I’m being paid to play your boyfriend for one afternoon,” he replied. “I’m saying that now, on my own time.”
A quiet laugh escaped me.
It was the first genuine laugh I’d had in weeks.
“He’s going to bring his mistress, Clark. Percy. She’s ten years younger than me and looks like she stepped off a runway. And he sent me a text saying she’s part of his family now.”
“And what did that feel like when you read it?”
“Like he was trying to erase me.”
Clark carefully placed his coffee on the table.
“You don’t have to disappear.”
I met his eyes.
There was nothing rehearsed about the way he said it.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he answered. “Just stand next to me. Smile at your children. Enjoy your son’s birthday. I’ll handle the rest.”
I thought about Ethan watching me that morning.
I thought about the baby I’d once held.
I thought about twenty years of believing my marriage was safe.
Finally, I nodded.
“Okay. Saturday. Two o’clock.”
Clark smiled.
For the first time since the divorce, hope quietly returned.
I had no idea my children were planning something of their own.
Or that one small gift box would change everything.
—
Music floated across the backyard while children splashed in the pool and guests laughed around the patio.
Clark stayed comfortably beside me.
He played his role naturally.
Almost too naturally.
I kept glancing toward the gate.
Ethan suddenly appeared holding a neatly wrapped gift.
He looked at Clark seriously.
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