Page 54 of Buttons

“We’refriends,Julian. Colleagues. What exactly do you think you’ve done wrong?” Her voice remains controlled, but I note the slight narrowing of her eyes.

I meet her gaze directly. “Wrong in that we’ve been possibilities. Alternatives, if you will. And that alone should have disqualified any sort of connection once I married Elowen.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?”

She sits back, her expression hardening. “Don’t blame me for your marital problems, Julian. I didn’t make you keep in touch all these years.”

“I’m not blaming you. This is entirely on me. But I need to be clear: there is no possibility of us. There never has been, not really. I chose Elowen then, and I choose her now. I choose even thechanceof getting her back over the certainty ofyou.”

“After she left you?” Carmella’s laugh is sarcastic. “She walked away, yet I’m still here.”

“Because I never gave you the clean break you deserved. Because I selfishly kept you orbiting in my life as some kind of backup plan. That was cruel to you and disrespectful to my marriage.”

She stares at me for a long moment, her features gradually composing themselves back into their usual perfect arrangement. When she speaks again, her voice has an icy tone. “We have business connections. There’s a professional overlap. You can’t just cut me out. It won’t be good for our professional lives.”

“I can ‘cut you out,’ and I am.” My tone remains gentle but firm. “Our industries are large enough that we can navigate them separately, and if for whatever reason we have to work on a project together, I’ll gracefully give the case to one of my associates. Perhaps you’d consider the same.”

“This is ridiculous.” She reaches for my arm again before I can avoid her touch. “We’ve maintained a perfectly appropriate friendship for years. There’s no reason to be so dramatic about it now.”

I notice movement at a nearby table. There’s a flash of copper hair. A woman in jeans and a green sweater stares at us, her expression hardening as she watches Carmella’s hand on my arm. Something about her seems familiar, though I can’t immediately place her. She’s with a man who appears to be saying something to her, but her attention remains fixed on us.

“This isn’t about drama,” I say, removing Carmella’s hand again. “It’s about integrity. About finally being honest with myself and with you.”

Realizing that those staring might misinterpret this conversation as intimate, I decide to end the conversation. Besides, I’ve already made my point.

“Carmella,” I say quietly but firmly, “you need to understand this isn’t a negotiation. My decision is final.”

“Is it because of the list?” she asks suddenly, her voice dropping to ensure privacy. “Because I scored higher on appearance and connections, but Elowen won on maternal potential? Do you regret that calculation now?”

The question stuns me into silence. Not just the content, but the casual way she references the list.

“Did you know about the list prior to Trey telling everyone?” I manage finally.

Her smile turns brittle. “You showed it to me, Julian. That night in your apartment after graduation. You were very drunk and so proud of your approach to wife selection.”

The memory crashes back with sickening clarity. The bottle of Macallan we emptied. The Excel spreadsheet I’d pulled up on my laptop, eager to impress her with my decision-making process. The way she’d laughed.

“I never realized you remembered that.” My voice sounds strange, even in my own ears.

“Of course I remembered. It’s not every day a man tells you that you’re physically superior to your competition but lack in maternal instinct.” Her tone carries old hurt beneath the sarcasm. “But I always figured you’d eventually realize your mistake. I was stoked when Trey finally exposed the truth. Thought it was finally our chance.”

The copper-haired woman is still watching us intently, her phone now held at an angle that captures our heads leaning close together, Carmella’s hand reaching toward mine on the table.

Trouble. That’s what this is. Trouble brewing that will reach Elowen before I can explain.

“I didn’t make a mistake choosing Elowen,” I tell Carmella, my voice quiet but direct. “My mistake was keeping you in my life afterward, especially now that I’m aware you’ve known this entire time.”

The red-headed woman’s camera flash goes off, not subtle at all now. She doesn’t even try to hide what she’s doing. Her boyfriend, or date, or whatever he is, looks uncomfortable as he says something to her that she appears to ignore. It takesa second, but I recognize her from the pictures posted of the rescue center Elowen volunteers at: Sarah.

Unfortunately, in the time it took me to place her, Carmella follows my gaze, turning to see Sarah openly photographing us. She turns back to me with a knowing smile.

“Your wife’s little spy seems to think we’re having a romantic dinner,” she observes. “Maybe we should give her something worth photographing.”

Before I can react, she leans across the table with big, fake doe eyes, her hand outstretched. I believe her intention is to palm my cheek, but I’ve had enough.

Just in time, I jerk my head to avoid her touch. “Don’t.”