They blinked at him, like they couldn't believe he'd interrupted their fun.
"Don't say another word about her."
Roxanne raised an eyebrow, amused. "Dean?—"
"I'm serious." His voice cut through the bar's ambient noise, sharp enough that a couple at the next table glanced over. "You don't get to laugh at her. Not to me. Not anymore."
Roxanne scoffed, but there was something watchful in her eyes now. "Oh, come on. You made her the joke. We just joined in."
"I know." His voice was getting louder, and he could feel other patrons starting to stare. Good. Let them stare. "And it's the worst thing I've ever done."
Ava's smirk grew wider, but it looked more forced now. "The whole 'tortured ex-husband' thing is a bit pathetic, don't you think?"
People were watching now. The old Dean would’ve shut up, laughed it off, tried to look cool. He’d lost Fiona. He didn’t care about looking cool anymore.
Dean stood up so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor. The sound echoed through the suddenly quieter bar.
"Pathetic?" His voice carried now, filling the space. The bartender paused mid-pour. A woman at the bar turned around completely. "You want to know what's pathetic?"
Jared shifted uncomfortably. "Dude, maybe keep it down?—"
Dean's voice got louder. "What's pathetic is a grown man who was so insecure he needed strangers to validate his ego by mocking his wife. What's pathetic is taking the kindest, most sincere woman I've ever met and offering her up to a pack of wolves so I could feel clever."
He thought about Fiona's face that night at the awards dinner. The confusion, then the dawning horror as she realized what had been done to her. How small she'd looked, how betrayed.
"What's pathetic," Dean continued, his voice cracking slightly, "is being so desperate to be liked by people like you that I made her think being earnest was something to be ashamed of."
The entire bar was watching now. Roxanne's cheeks were flushed, but she was trying to maintain her composure, looking at her nails like Dean's breakdown was beneath her notice.
"She packs lunches for kids who can't afford them," Dean said, his voice breaking. "She stays late every day tutoring students who need extra help. She cries over nature documentaries because she thinks the world is beautiful, and I let you mock her for it."
She wasn’t even here, and still the room tilted toward her. Like her goodness filled in the places these people left hollow.
Ava laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I'm worried about you, Dean. This obsession isn't healthy. She's moved on—shouldn't you?"
“I’m never moving on.” Dean's voice was raw now, and he didn't care who heard.
"Look," Ava’s voice dropped to what she probably thought was sweet, “the whole small-town-teacher thing was cute for a while. But that’s not someone for the long-term.”
Dean stared at her, seeing clearly now who she really was. Who they all were. The people he'd thought were his friends, who'd laughed at Fiona's expense while she sat at their dinner tables trying to belong.
"Fiona was never the problem,” Dean said firmly. “I was. You were."
He grabbed the folder from the table, holding it against his chest like armor.
"She's meeting me here in five minutes," he said, his voice steady now. "So you can leave, or you can sit here and watch me try to become the man she deserves. Your call. But if any of you says one more word about her—if you even look at her wrong—I will stand up for her. It’ll be too late, but I understand now what a husband is supposed to be.”
Cam was already standing, throwing money on the table. "This is fucked up, man."
"No," Dean said quietly, watching them gather their things with undisguised relief. "What I did to her was fucked up. This is just me finally being honest about it."
Roxanne stood last, her composure cracking just enough to show the embarrassment underneath. "You're making a mistake."
"I made my mistake two years ago," Dean said. "This is me trying to fix it."
CHAPTER 59
Fiona
