Lily
“Another glass, ma’am?”
Three glasses. Three glasses of expensive Pinot Grigio as my only company.
My husband had stood me up on my birthday at my favorite Italian restaurant.
I let out a short, sharp breath. “No, thank you. Just the check, please.”
The young waiter gave me a look of pity.
“I am so sorry, ma’am.”
“Check, please,” I repeated.
He nodded quickly and retreated.
I glanced down at my purple silk dress, the way the light caught the diamond cupcake-shaped pendant with our children’s birthstones. A gift Ethan bought me last year. Last year, when he loved me. Last year, when he showed up.
But now? I felt a hot flush of anger rising up my neck.
I’d spent three hours getting a blowout, making sure my makeup was perfect, and I’d worn the new shoes that I’d bought a few days ago, which were already digging into my arches.
All for what? For this? For him to stand me up on my birthday, leaving me here to feel like a complete fool?
I wanted to scream until the crystal shattered, but I had passed the point of tears.
I had let myself believe that we could slide back into the old rhythm when he promised he would try. But tonight proved to be another lie. He didn’t show. He didn’t even text. Not one lousy text message or a freaking call.
When the waiter returned, I didn’t even glance at the total. I slid the credit card across the linen tablecloth.
My phone vibrated in my purse. I pulled it out to see Ebony’s name on the screen. Before she could even utter a greeting, the words flew from my mouth.
“He stood me up.”
She let out a strangled sound of disbelief on the other end. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No,” I spat.
God, I wish I were.
“What the hell has gotten into him?!”
It was the same question I’d been asking for months, desperate for an answer that would make sense, that would allow me to move past this festering wound. But all I ever got was false promises.
Ebony’s voice hardened. “I’m coming to get you and we’re going out. We’re going to get gloriously, messily drunk and celebrate you.”
I snorted. All I wanted was to curl up in a ball and let the tears come, but the anger was a dam holding back the flood.
“Thanks, but no. I have somewhere else I need to be.”
The black sedan finally came to a stop at the curb. I thanked the driver and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the pavement. I made my way to the main entrance and pressed the intercom buzzer.
A moment later, the internal camera confirmed my identity, and the latch clicked open. Charlie, one of the usual guards, recognized me immediately. A broad smile broke across his face.
“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.”
I spun away, trying to pull myself together, taking another ragged breath.
When I faced him again, I planted my hands on my hips.
“How is it that you can remember every minor detail for your clients, every scheduled meeting, but when it comes to your actual family, you can’t remember the most important dates?
You promised me.” My voice cracked painfully on the last word.
“Lily.” He took a desperate step forward, hands outstretched as if reaching for a lifeline, but I recoiled, taking a sharp step back.
“It’s not like that. I swear, I am so sorry. It’s not an excuse, but we were working on—”
I snapped my hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. “I’m not interested in hearing your excuses, Ethan. Because that’s all they are. Excuses. You have been slowly dismantling this marriage for months. You’ve been absent.”
His blue eyes flooded, but I pushed on. He needed to hear this. He needed to understand what he was doing to his family.
“Have you ever stopped to consider what your constant coldness has been doing to me? To your children? Are we not good enough for you anymore?”
His tears finally broke free, tracing paths through the exhaustion on his face. “Of course you are, Lily,” he croaked, wiping his face roughly with the back of his hand. “I’m trying to provide for you and the kids, make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Ethan, you run a multi-billion-dollar corporation. You. Can. Delegate. But you choose not to.”
His face flushed crimson. “You know how much I sacrificed to get to this point!”
“Yes! Your family!” I countered.
He reared back at my admission, but I wasn’t waiting around to hear what he thought.
Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked out of his office, not bothering to close the door.
He didn’t follow.
But it didn’t matter.
I was already gone.
Ethan
“FUCK!” I roared, slamming my fist down on the polished mahogany.
Lily didn’t even look back when she walked out of my office. I should’ve followed her, but there was nothing I could’ve said that would have made it better.
I fucked up big time.
I missed her birthday dinner. The dinner I had planned after I swore I would be more present and attentive. I had made a promise. A goddamn promise.
I didn’t deserve Lily’s forgiveness or the kids’. I could come up with a million excuses—the deadline, the new clients—but I wouldn’t. Because they were all excuses wrapped in business jargon.
It was supposed to be the last push. Finish the latest project, and we would be set; then I’d have time. But one project became two, and two became three, and now it’s just a never-ending fucking treadmill of excuses.
To make things worse, she thought something was going on with Emma. Jesus Christ. I had zero romantic interest in my assistant. Zero. And what was I doing tonight? I was sitting across from her, eating Chinese takeout on my wife’s birthday, who was looking so fucking beautiful.
God, the look on her face. That cold, hard disgust mixed with pure disappointment. She looked at me like she’d never actually known who I was. Like I was a stranger.
I was the goddamn Husband of the Year.