I crossed the ballroom before I had time to think about what I was doing.
Marcus heard my footsteps and turned.
He looked almost exactly as I remembered him from college—expensive haircut, expensive watch, expensive confidence. He had been the kind of guy who could insult someone and somehow make the room believe the victim was being unreasonable for objecting.
“Nathan Brooks,” he said. “Well, look who came back from the mountains.”
I ignored him.
“Rachel?”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Marcus laughed.
“See? She’s fine.”
Rachel’s eyes stayed on mine.
“No,” I said. “She isn’t.”
His smile thinned.
“This is between me and my ex-wife.”
Rachel took a slow breath. “I told you I don’t want to talk.”
“And I told you we have unfinished business.”
“No,” she said more firmly. “You have unfinished business. I don’t.”
Several people nearby had started watching.
Not openly, of course.
People were suddenly fascinated by their drinks, their phones, the dessert table.
Marcus stepped slightly closer to Rachel.
That was enough.
I moved between them.
“You need to step away from her.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
His expression shifted from amusement to irritation.
“Who exactly do you think you are?”
I should have said an old friend.
I should have said someone who heard her say no.
I should have said none of your business.
Instead, I glanced back at Rachel.
She gave me the smallest nod.
Maybe she thought I had a plan.
I didn’t.
I turned to Marcus.
“I’m her husband.”
The words landed between us like a dropped plate.
Marcus blinked.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You’re what?”
I felt Rachel’s fingers slide into mine.
She didn’t hesitate.
She stepped beside me and tightened her grip.
“My husband,” she said.
That shut him up.
Only for a second, but it was enough.
Marcus looked at our joined hands, then at Rachel.
“You remarried?”
Rachel lifted her chin.
“My life stopped being your business years ago.”
“When?”
“Marcus.”
“When did this happen?”
“That’s exactly the kind of question you no longer get to ask.”
His face hardened.
I could practically see him trying to calculate whether she was lying.
We were lying.
Very badly, probably.
I had no wedding ring.
Rachel wasn’t wearing one either.
Marcus noticed.
His eyes dropped to my hand.
“Interesting marriage.”
I looked down too.
Then back at him.
“We left the rings upstairs.”
Rachel nearly choked.
Marcus stared at me.
Somewhere behind us, somebody coughed to hide a laugh.
I decided I was already too deep to retreat.
“We were in a hurry.”
Rachel squeezed my hand so hard my knuckles cracked.
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“Rachel, can I speak to you alone?”
“No.”
“You’re making a scene.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I spent six years believing that whenever you embarrassed me, frightened me, or pushed me into something I didn’t want, I was the one making a scene if I objected. I don’t believe that anymore.”
That changed the room.
A few people stopped pretending not to listen.
Marcus glanced around.
For the first time, he looked less powerful.
“Fine,” he said. “You want to humiliate me in front of everyone?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
He opened his mouth.
I stepped closer.
“She said no.”
His eyes locked on mine.
I didn’t threaten him.
I didn’t have to.
After a long moment, Marcus stepped back.
“You’ve always had a talent for choosing pathetic men, Rachel.”
She flinched.
I felt it through her hand.
But before I could respond, she surprised both of us.
She smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Just calmly.
“I used to choose men who needed me to feel small so they could feel big,” she said. “I don’t anymore.”
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