She had rehearsed none.
In the end, the simplest won.
“When did we get divorced?”
A glass clinked against a table somewhere behind Vanessa.
Ryan’s face went pale.
“Claire.”
She looked at him.
“I asked you a question.”
Vanessa stared between them.
The excitement had disappeared from her face completely.
Ryan stepped closer.
“Can we talk privately?”
Claire looked toward the employees surrounding them.
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“Please.”
“No.”
Vanessa finally spoke.
“What does she mean?”
Ryan turned.
“Vanessa.”
Her voice sharpened.
“What does she mean?”
Claire looked at her.
“You don’t know?”
Vanessa’s eyes widened.
“Know what?”
“That he’s still married.”
Vanessa stared at Ryan.
He lifted both hands.
“This is more complicated than—”
Claire laughed.
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
“Fourteen years married. Same house. Same daughter. Joint tax return filed six months ago.”
She looked toward Vanessa.
“It’s actually one of the less complicated parts.”
Vanessa went white.
“Ryan told me—”
“Vanessa.”
He reached for her arm.
She pulled away.
“No.”
The employees began looking at one another.
Claire recognized several faces.
People who had attended her Christmas parties.
People whose children she had held as babies.
People who knew Sophie.
A few had known Claire before Meridian had an office.
Before Meridian had employees.
Before Ryan started telling interviews that he had “built the company from nothing.”
Claire put the flowers onto the cocktail table.
The paper made a soft sound against the white linen.
Ryan glanced at them.
“What are those?”
“Peonies.”
“I can see that.”
Claire opened her handbag.
She removed the envelope containing the tickets.
Placed it beside the flowers.
Ryan stared.
“What is that?”
“Your anniversary present.”
Nobody moved.
Claire looked at Vanessa’s diamond.
“Timing could’ve been better.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“Claire, enough.”
She looked at him.
“Enough?”
“Yes.”
His embarrassment had started transforming into anger.
Claire knew that pattern.
Ryan hated losing control of a room.
“You walked into a private company event.”
Claire glanced around.
“I own forty-two percent of the private company.”
That changed several faces.
A few younger employees looked genuinely confused.
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“This is not the time.”
“What time would you recommend?”
“Not in front of my employees.”
“Our employees.”
“You haven’t worked here in six years.”
Claire went still.
There.
A wound he knew how to touch.
Ryan saw it.
Regretted it instantly.
Too late.
Claire nodded.
“You’re right.”
That surprised him.
“I haven’t.”
She looked toward the company banner.
“I left daily operations when Sophie was eight because my mother got sick and you said one of us needed to stop living at airports.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“Claire.”