Chapter 6

"You didn't mean it that way?"

My voice was quiet, but it cut through his flimsy excuse like a cold, thin blade.

Cold sweat broke out at Ethan's temples as he reached for me.

"Claire, let me explain! We were up against the quarterly deadlines at the firm, and there were a million things to handle for the wedding. I was just stressed. I had a couple of drinks with an old friend and let off some steam… I know I shouldn't have run my mouth or told her what we'd said in private, but I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

"Let off some steam?" Across the table, Vivian laughed coldly and folded her arms, watching him without sympathy.

"So now you're dumping all the blame on me, Ethan? Who pulled me aside at that bar to complain that going home every day felt like sitting through a never-ending job interview? Who said, 'If you're there, Claire will worry about making a scene in front of someone else, so she won't keep picking me apart'? You begged me to come, and now I'm the one trying to ruin your relationship?"

"Vivian, shut up!" For the first time, Ethan lost control and shouted at her, his eyes frantic with fear and embarrassment. "You know I was drunk. Now you're deliberately making it sound as ugly as possible. What are you trying to do?"

"What am I trying to do? Keep you from hiding behind me!"

In the cramped corner of the private room, they hurled accusations and shifted the blame back and forth. Their movements sent ripples across the coffee in the cups.

I sat between them, their argument growing muffled and distant.

The fitting I'd looked forward to so much, the appointment I'd cleared my schedule for two weeks in advance, had been nothing more to Ethan than a test he needed to maneuver his way through.

And Vivian was the shield he'd brought along to take some of the heat and keep me quiet.

Everything I'd cherished, everything I'd taken so seriously, had already been reduced to a cheap joke over their laughter and clinking glasses.

"Enough."

I stood.

They fell silent at once and turned to me.

The panic in Ethan's eyes became outright terror. He shot to his feet. "Claire…"

I looked at neither of them. I simply picked up my trench coat and bag.

"You don't need to keep arguing over whose fault it is." I looked calmly at Ethan, without even a trace of anger left in my eyes. "You've both made yourselves very clear. I understood every word."

"Claire, don't go. Let's talk at home!" Ethan hurried forward to block my path.

"It's your apartment," I said, looking at him. "The wedding is officially on hold. I'll arrange for a car today and move my things to Hannah's."

"No, Claire. You can't just decide there's no coming back from this!"

His voice broke, all his usual composure and restraint falling apart in public.

He clung to my sleeve, barely able to get his words out.

"Seven years. We can't let it all end because I did something stupid… We'll go to premarital counseling! Boston has some of the best couples therapists. I'll make the appointment. We'll go every week. I swear I'll put every problem on the table and work on it! Please, give me a chance to fix this. Don't go…"

The other customers were turning to stare.

I looked at the man I'd shared my life with for seven years.

The remorse and terror in his eyes were real. So were his carelessness and contempt for me.

"I'm willing to see a therapist with you, Ethan."

I pulled my sleeve free, my voice offering no room for negotiation. "But I'm still moving out. And I'm making no promises that the wedding will be back on."

With that, I pushed open the café's glass door and walked straight into Boston's bitter autumn wind.