Page 56 of Buttons

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did something happen with our grant proposal?”

Sarah shakes her head, pulling out her phone with slightly trembling fingers. “I saw them last night. At Castellano’s.” She doesn’t need to clarify who “them” is. The way her jaw tightens tells me exactly who she means.

I collapse into a chair, not sure how to feel about it. Going to a charity gala under the pretense of business is one thing, but a private dinner is another.

Sarah holds out her phone, the screen already queued to a video. Julian sits at a white-clothed table across from Carmella, whose dress and perfect posture look exactly as I’d expect. They’re leaning close, heads nearly touching in what appears to be an intimate conversation. Carmella reaches across the table, and that’s where the video ends.

“Bobby grabbed my phone,” she says.

My body tenses, muscles contracting in a visceral response I can’t control. But then, when I force my body to relax, something strange happens. Instead of the crushing pain I might have expected weeks ago, my mind drifts backward, pulling up memories like old photographs from a forgotten album. Julian on our first date, standing as I approached the table. The way he held my chair, with his fingers brushing my shoulder in a way that was seemingly accidental but not. His voice, passionate as he described his vision for Plaza Investments.

The memory of his touch was warm and sure, and so different from the hesitant dates I’d had before him. Now, it overlaps with the video on the phone. The same man, but a different woman across from him. It’s nothing compared to my memory. Julian looks disinterested in Carmella. Perhaps even annoyed.

Oh well, Julian. You chose her.

Then my mind jumps elsewhere, thinking of how Sarah got this footage in the first place. A bubble rises in my chest. For a moment, I try to contain it, falling back on years of restraint. But then it breaks free, erupting from my lips in a sound that startles us both. I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to choke it back, but the laugh cuts right through my fingers. It’s a mixture between a hyena and a deranged clown. Trying to stop, I double over through my aching back’s protests.

“El, what’s going on?” Sarah drops her hands to her sides, her voice wavering. “D-do I need to call EMS?”

I wave a hand weakly at her phone, unable to straighten up. Tears drag down my cheeks, hot and messy. “Remember,” I wheeze. “Remember Spoon? On your last date?”

Sarah blinks, her shoulders dropping as the urgency leaves her. “The hamster guy? What about him?”

“Now,” I manage, the words cracking as another wave of laughter hits me. “Now that date is going to have stories aboutyou.”

Sarah’s jaw sets. She snaps her arms across her chest, gripping her phone tight in one fist. “No. Spoon’s dad waswayworse.”

The giggles finally slow. “He’ll say you grabbed your phone and started filming a random man across the room.”

“That ‘random man’ was your husband,” Sarah protests, her voice rising. “Eating dinner with the She-Devil incarnate.”

“I’m picturing poor What’s-His-Name sitting there while you went full surveillance mode.”

“His name is Bobby, and he understood completely once I explained.” Sarah’s chin lifts, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “Besides, we were almost done with dinner, anyway.”

“You explained after Bobby had to take away your phone. Did you stalk them during the entire dessert course?” The amusement bubbles up again, lighter this time. “Did you hide behind a plant? Follow Carmella to the bathroom and plant a recorder in her purse?”

“I was gathering evidence.” Sarah bites her inner cheek, trying to suppress the grin breaking across her face. “You know, most women would be upset seeing that video.”

I let out a long, quiet breath, letting my shoulders sink back against the chair. Peace finally settles into the room. “Most women haven’t heard of their husband’s wife-comparison spreadsheet.”

“True.” Sarah nods solemnly before adding, “Though, the spreadsheet thing would make a killer story. You should bring it up duringyournext date.”

This sets us off again, both of us laughing.

“Seriously though,” Sarah says when we’ve calmed again. “Are you okay?”

I take her phone, studying the frozen image of Julian and Carmella. “It’s just so predictable.”

Sarah squeezes my arm. “And here I was, ready to pour sugar into his gas tank.”

I hand back the phone. “Nah. Save your criminal record.”

Beatrix’s voice cuts through our conversation as she appears in the doorway. “Oh no, who has a criminal record?” Her gaze travels between us. “Whatever soap opera you two are discussing will have to wait. Sarah, the outdoor cat enclosure needs cleaning before the adoption fair opens at noon.”

Sarah glances at her watch, eyes widening. “I can’t. I have that meet-and-greet in five minutes. They’re interested in Princess Pony.”

“Well, someone needs to clean that enclosure,” Beatrix says, unmoved.