Thirty-two years of being the family punchline ended in that fountain.
I wiped water from my lashes and looked straight at him.
“Remember this moment,” I said quietly. “Remember exactly what you just did to me. Because I will.”
His smile faltered.
I climbed out, walked to the lobby restroom, peeled off the soaked dress, and changed into the black cocktail dress I had packed as a backup. Then I painted my lips red and looked at the woman in the mirror.
She was not disappearing anymore.
I pulled out my damaged phone and sent two words to the hidden contact I had protected for three years.
Come now.
My family loved calling me lonely.
Tonight, they were about to meet my husband.
Please type “YES” if you’re ready for the next part and I’ll send it right away.
