“You had no right.”
Mason stared at him.
“Neither did you.”
Ryan laughed once.
It sounded almost breathless.
“You think you’re some kind of hero now?”
“No.”
Mason looked at me.
“I think I waited too long.”
That was somehow worse.
Because there was no triumph in his voice.
Only shame.
I looked down at my hands.
Dad crouched beside me again.
“Claire.”
I could barely focus on him.
“There’s a recording.”
“I heard.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“What if—”
My throat tightened.
I wasn’t even sure what I meant.
What if it sounded worse than I remembered?
What if it sounded less serious?
What if my voice was shrill and angry and Ryan sounded calm?
What if hearing it made everyone understand why he said I was impossible?
Dad seemed to read something in my face.
“You don’t have to listen to anything right now.”
Ryan gave a disbelieving shake of his head.
“This is insane.”
Dad stood.
“No. This is over.”
“Robert—”
“You are no longer staying in this house.”
Ryan stared at him.
We had all been staying at my parents’ home for the weekend because the engagement party was supposed to take place the following afternoon.
Forty-six people had been invited.
My dress was hanging upstairs.
There were flowers in buckets in the laundry room and six bottles of champagne cooling in the basement refrigerator.
My mother had spent three days arranging place cards.
The entire weekend had been designed around celebrating Ryan and me.
And suddenly I understood that none of it mattered anymore.
Ryan did too.
His eyes found mine.
“You’re doing this?”
I felt the old instinct rise immediately.
Fix it.
Calm him down.
Explain.
Apologize.
I closed my eyes.
Then opened them.
“No,” I said. “You did.”
Something flickered across his face.
Pain.
Not the kind I had expected.
For a second he looked genuinely hurt.
That was one of the most confusing things about loving Ryan.
He could hurt me and still be hurt by losing me.
Both things could exist at once.
I hated that part of myself that wanted to comfort him.
Dad must have seen me falter because he said, “Claire, you don’t need to decide anything about your future tonight.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“She already has.”
“No,” Dad replied. “She decided where she is sleeping tonight. That’s enough.”
For once, somebody had made my world smaller.
Not smaller in the way Ryan did, where every choice became another doorway he could close.
Dad made it smaller because I was exhausted.
Tonight.
One decision.
One safe place.
Nothing else.
Ryan stared at me for a long moment.
Then he removed the watch Dad had given him.
He set it on the workbench.
The small click of metal against wood sounded impossibly loud.
“I’ll get my things.”
“You won’t go upstairs alone,” Dad said.
Ryan looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll come with you.”
Ryan almost smiled.
“You think I’m going to steal something?”
“No.”
Dad’s eyes met his.
“I think my daughter is upstairs eventually, and I want you out before she goes there.”
Ryan’s smile disappeared.
Mason and Ethan followed him into the house.
Dad waited until the door closed behind them.
Then he turned to me.
For several seconds he just stood there.
I had never seen him look so old.
Not when Uncle Michael died.
Not when Mom had surgery.
Not even at Grandpa’s funeral.
He came back and sat down on the garage floor beside me.
His expensive trousers landed directly in a thin line of oil.
