Chapter 2
Things were unfolding way faster than I could have imagined.
By the time I caught up, the cake cart was already parked in the wings, waiting for its cue.
On stage, Claire was still speaking, her voice soft and full of emotion. "So, I want to officially announce here that Harris Group will fully support Ryan's next film. "
Backstage, I was sweating bullets as I grabbed the waiter's arm. "Bro, don't bring out the cake. I want to cancel it."
The waiter was startled, glancing back at me. "Sir, your cake's already been checked with Ms. Harris's assistant. It's written in tonight's schedule. The cake goes on stage at 9:40."
I glanced at my watch.
9:39.
Ms. Harris's assistant?
I felt my heart thump hard.
Last month, I quietly messaged Faye, Claire's assistant, and told her I wanted to surprise Claire for our fifth anniversary. Faye was in on our relationship, so she helped me slot the cake surprise into the event schedule for the annual party.
The plan back then was simple, Claire would announce our marriage first, then the cake would roll out, and I'd step onto the stage, wrapping things up perfectly.
But now?
Claire had told over three hundred people that Ryan was the most important person in her life.
If the cake went up now, the cake that said "Love you, wifey" and was signed with my name, Ben, would end up in the same frame as Claire pouring her heart out to Ryan in front of everyone.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
I grabbed the waiter, pleading, "Here, I'll give you money, take the cake anywhere but the stage, please."
The waiter looked uneasy. "Sorry, I really can't. It's already in the schedule. If something messes up, they'll take it out of my paycheck. "
Before he could finish, another staffer came over and tapped the cart. "9:40, let's get it on stage."
Before I could even blink, the massive five-tiered cake, with "Love you, wifey" and my name plastered on it, marking five years together, was rolled right onto center stage.
Spotlights zeroed in on the cake.
Everyone's attention snapped to it.
Claire turned around and saw the cake.
Her expression shifted from shock to confusion, and then, the instant she saw what was written in icing.
Her face went pale.
On the big screen, the director helpfully gave the cake a close-up.
"Wifey, happy fifth anniversary. Love you forever, Ben."
Every word was projected in huge letters, crystal clear for everyone in the room to see.
Silence.
A suffocating silence.
Then, hushed whispers swept through the crowd like a tidal wave.
In the front row, Ryan was holding a glass of red wine. When he saw the words on the big screen, he nearly spat out his drink.
He glanced at the cake, then at Claire on stage, his face clearly saying, 'Wait, you're married?'
Claire's hand trembled slightly as she gripped the microphone.
She scanned the crowd.
Her eyes moved from the first row to the second, then the third.
That empty spot in the third row.
I was gone.
I was crouched by the soundboard backstage, my head buried in my knees, feeling utterly hopeless.
It was over.
Totally over.
The most humiliating public moment of my life had happened.
The backstage door swung open.
Faye, Claire's assistant, burst in, red-faced and almost stumbling over the threshold.
When she saw me crouched on the floor, her eyes went wide. "Ben, the cake... wasn't it supposed to go up after Ms. Harris made the announcement?"
I looked up at her, my expression deadpan. "Faye, be straight with me, did Ms. Harris mention anything tonight about announcing our marriage?"
Faye froze for a second.
Then her face fell.
She lowered her head. "Ben... Ms. Harris told me last week to remove the announcement from the schedule. But the cake... I thought she was postponing the announcement, so I figured the cake part would still happen as usual..."
I let out a laugh.
It was not a bitter laugh. It was the kind born of wanting to swear but being too frustrated to get the words out.
So Claire had already made up her mind last week not to announce it tonight.
No one told me.
But the cake still went out, like we planned.
I stood up, brushing the dust off my pants. "Alright, I'm out of here."
Faye grabbed my arm, worry in her voice. "Ben, what about Ms. Harris?"
Before she could finish, a flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from outside.
Two security guys in black suits appeared at the backstage door.
The bear-sized one fixed his gaze on me. "Is this him?"
The other nodded.
The big guy walked up to me. "Sir, we need you to come with us."
Wait, what?
Next thing I knew, they had me by both arms, one on each side.
The big guy kept a straight face. "Ms. Harris wants us to escort this gentleman out."
My legs barely kept up as they escorted me out, disbelief flooding my mind.
Wait a second.
I'm her husband, for crying out loud.'