Chapter 1
My husband stopped looking at me the moment his ex walked into Northline Brands' tenth-anniversary party.
One second, Ethan was beside me while the photographer tested the lights for our official anniversary photo. The next, his eyes moved past my shoulder and stayed there.
I turned.
A woman in a dark green dress stood at the ballroom entrance.
Lydia Shaw.
I had never met her, but I knew the name. Ethan's former girlfriend. The woman who had left when his first company failed and his debt was larger than his bank balance.
"Lydia," Ethan said.
She crossed the room, stopped in front of him, and looked up at the Northline logo behind the stage.
"Looks like I was wrong about you back then."
Ethan went still for half a beat. Then he smiled.
I knew that smile. He wore it when a competitor admitted defeat, when a lender called back after saying no, when someone who had dismissed him had to revise the story.
Behind Lydia, the screen changed to a photograph from Northline's first year: our nearly empty office, Ethan asleep over a conference table, me holding our first major distribution contract.
"You really did it," Lydia said.
"Looks like I did."
Within minutes, they were trading names and places from before I knew him.
The photographer approached. "Mr. Cole, Mrs. Morgan, we're ready."
Finally.
I had arranged the photograph a month earlier. It was supposed to mark ten years of Northline and the two people who had built it.
I stepped toward the photo wall. Ethan followed.
Lydia started to move away.
"Stay," Ethan said. "We'll get one first."
She stopped.
The photographer raised the camera. Lydia stood beside Ethan. I stood on his other side.
Flash.
The Northline logo filled the wall behind us.
"Another one," I said. "Just the two of us."
The photographer nodded.
Ethan had already turned back to Lydia.
"Later."
"This is the official anniversary photo."
"I know. Later."
We never took it.
For the rest of the night, I spoke to clients and thanked employees. Every time I looked across the ballroom, Lydia was near him.
Near the end of the party, I found them by the elevators.
"My hotel is downtown," Lydia said. "I barely remember this city."
"The company car is waiting," I said.
Ethan reached for his keys.
"I'll drive her."
I looked at him. "The driver is downstairs."
"It's fine, Claire. We haven't had a chance to talk."
Lydia glanced at me. "I don't want to interrupt your night."
"You aren't," Ethan said before I could answer.
The elevator opened.
He stepped inside with her.
"Go home," he said. "I'll be back soon."
The doors closed between us.
I stood under the gold NORTHLINE TEN YEARS banner while the photographer packed away the lights.
Ten years ago, Lydia had left when Ethan had nothing.
Tonight, she had come back to see what she had missed.
At 1:47 a.m., I heard Ethan's key turn in our front door.