She turns on her heel. “Well, the party’s already started.”
Pastel garlands sweep the room. The buffet groans under platters, and a towering pink-and-white cake dominates the center. A mountain of baby gifts spills into a corner.
Near the fireplace, she stands.
Stephanie.
One hand on her belly, the other looped through Clark’s arm like a victory lap. She glows, sure, but not in a way that makes me envious. In a way that burns.
Her eyes find mine. Surprise flickers, then fades into a too-sweet smile while Clark shifts beside her, rigid, looking down at the floor.
I nod once. “Stephanie.”
She tilts her head. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts.”
Jack steps closer. “She’s got more guts than you ever will.”
Stephanie’s smile twitches. “Aren’t you the loyal one?”
“I came to drop this off,” I say, holding out the bag.
She pauses, as if the gesture has short-circuited her. Then, slowly, she takes it.
“How generous,” she says flatly.
My eyes find Clark. “Clark.”
He finally looks at me. His voice is low. “Beth.”
Silence thickens between us.
Stephanie sighs, overplaying it. “Well, this is awkward.”
“It wasn’t,” Lori calls from the entryway, “until you opened your mouth.”
Stephanie’s glare could slice concrete, but Lori’s grin just dares her to try.
I adjust my purse strap. “I’ve done what I came to do. We’re leaving.”
Stephanie’s brows lift. “Already?”
“I didn’t come for conversation.”
She scoffs. “So, you dropped by to make a scene?”
I smile. “No. I came to prove to myself I don’t need to be here anymore.”
A beat.
“Enjoy your perfect little life,” I add. “I won’t wish you happiness. You’ll need to earn it.”
Mother makes a strangled sound behind me, but I don’t turn.
Stephanie opens her mouth—too late.
Jack takes my hand. We walk out.
Behind us, Lori mutters, “Damn. That was satisfying.”
