Page 18 of I’m Already Gone

“Lily. It’s so good to see you. You look stunning,” he greeted me.

I forced my features into a neutral expression. “Thank you, Charlie.” I lifted the insulated bag slightly. “I brought Ethan dinner.”

Charlie’s smile softened. “Of course. Go right ahead. Should I call and tell him you’re heading up?”

“No need,” I said, shaking my head quickly. “He knows I’m coming.”

“Alright then. Have a good night, Lily.” He waved me through.

Every footfall on the marble floor heading toward the elevator felt heavy, like walking across glass that might shatter at any moment. When I stepped into the enclosed space, I punched the button for the tenth-floor executive suite.

The doors parted on the executive floor, and another guard, Mark, looked up from his desk and gave a slight nod.

“Hey, Lily. Ethan is tied up in a meeting.”

I held the bag out slightly. “He’s expecting this.”

Mark nodded. “Okay. Go on ahead.”

Voices drifted out into the hall as I approached his office. The door was slightly ajar. I paused long enough to peer through the gap, leaning forward to listen.

I peeked inside and saw Ethan at the table, surrounded by takeout containers and scattered files. And there was a woman sitting in the chair opposite him, in a short dress, laughing. With my husband. And the smile he had on his face was the smile he used to save for me. The one that made my stomach flip years ago. Now it tightened into a knot, threatening to bring up the wine and bread I’d forced down while I waited for him.

I took one sharp, ragged breath and shoved the door open.

The woman shrieked.

Ethan’s blue eyes blew wide.

“Lily? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

I hurled the paper bag at him, aiming for his head. He ducked, stumbling back against his chair.

“Bringing you dinner, of course, my love,” I spat out.

“What the hell, Lily?”

I ignored him, pivoting to the woman who was fumbling for her designer clutch. She snatched her bag and bolted out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

I turned back to my husband. He raised his hands defensively.

“What has—” he started.

“You didn’t show up!” I cut him off, my voice vibrating with rage. “I waited for you, Ethan! I sat alone at that restaurant for an hour!”

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting down to my dress—the dress I wore because he asked me to wear something nice for our date night.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand over his hair. When he opened them, they were swimming with regret, but I was too far gone to care. “Lily, God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Save it,” I clipped, my jaw tight. “Are your fingers broken? Did you forget how to use the phone?”

He swallowed again.

“Couldn’t you manage a text? A call? Anything to let me know you decided to celebrate my birthday with her?” I pointed to the now empty seat the woman had occupied.

“I wasn’t spending it with another woman, Lily. I honestly got caught up with⁠—”

“Stop it!” I croaked. “You planned this night, Ethan. You. Not me.”