Chapter 37
A NIGHT UNDER THE STARS
NATALIE
It was the night of the gala, a charity fundraiser for the school, the kind of event where people tossed around money under the guise of generosity. Paddles in the air for full-ride scholarships, vacations to Mexico, VIP parking spots, even a designer poodle puppy. A night to give… and be seen.
I hadn’t even decided if I was going until the last minute.
Jason said he might make it, but when I checked with him earlier, he was still in New York.
A few months ago that would’ve gutted me.
I would’ve buried the disappointment and smiled through it.
But now I was in a different place. Every selfish move Jason took gave me “unspoken” permission for every choice of mine with Will. Like I was allowed to stop pretending.
Will told me he hadn’t attended one of these galas in a couple of years. I was a little disappointed when he said he wasn’t coming now, either. All the same, I dressed up in a deep emerald gown, did my make-up, curled my hair.
A text from Camille lit up my cell phone screen.
Camille: The limo will collect you in 10. Be ready, ma chérie.
I gave the sitter a few last-minute instructions and headed out.
When we arrived at the gala, held at a sleek waterfront venue in Newport, decked out in balloon arches and twinkling lights, there was already a line at the step-and-repeat. We paused for a photo under a silver banner, “A Night to Shine.”
And then I saw him, standing by the bar in a tux, looking criminally good, Bond-level good. He was with his sister, Sarah. Our eyes met, and I felt my body react before my mind had the chance to catch up. My breath caught, and my knees softened. My senses were on high alert. I ached for him.
Tate handed Camille and I glasses of wine as my phone buzzed.
Will: You look lovely
I looked up and caught his eyes again. The look he gave me made heat rush to my cheeks. He wanted me, and I wanted him.
Will: Think they’ve got a spare ballroom we could sneak into?
Camille glanced over and gave me a knowing smirk. “I’m going to say a few hellos,” she whispered, kissing the air beside my cheek before gliding off. She was more social than I was. Always had been. I’d never felt the need to be part of the inner circle of school moms.
Then I saw the whispers start.
Heads turned. Eyes darted to the entrance.
Jason had arrived.
He looked good, he always did. Tall, tailored, slightly untouchable, the kind of man who knew the room would stop when he walked in.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“I can’t believe you made it,” I replied.
“I’m here. Exhausted—but here.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, and for a brief second, it felt like we were back in sync. Until I remembered how much effort it took him to show up at all.
“Well,” I said, smoothing my dress, “let’s get you a drink and a paddle.”
We made our way to the bar, where Camille and Tate were waiting.
“You made it!” Camille said, in that perfect French-laced tone that made everything sound slightly more glamorous than it was.
“What’s up, man,” Tate said, shaking hands with Jason before the two of them dove into a conversation about business, the only thing Jason seemed capable of talking about anymore.
Camille turned to me. “I think you need a photo booth break,” she said, winking.
We slipped into the booth and cycled through props—sunglasses, fake mustaches, party hats. For a few minutes, we laughed like teenagers at sleepaway camp. Then it was time for dinner and bidding.
On the way to our table, I passed Will. Our shoulders almost brushed. I didn’t look directly at him, but I felt every molecule shift. My steps slowed. The air changed. I could smell his cologne. I wanted to reach out, just to feel the weight of his hand on mine, but I kept walking.
The auction kicked off with no time wasted: trips to Cabo, a private jet day trip to Napa, custom designer uniform set (Why wouldn’t your child need Victoria Beckham to design your outfit that you will most likely spill chocolate milk on?), private tennis lessons.
Then came the puppy. Camille leaned toward me. “Imagine the hangover of waking up to that—$11,000 and 15 years of barking and poop.”
I laughed. “You’re not wrong. I love dogs, but that’s a commitment.”
Then came the most absurd one of all—dinner at Nobu with an original cast member of The Real Housewives of Orange County, complete with a selfie session and a signed bottle of rosé from her personal label. It went for $9,800… and somehow felt like a steal.
“I’m going to slip over to the ladies’ room,” I whispered, excusing myself.
Once out of sight, I checked my phone. Nothing from Will. Obviously, he saw Jason.
Jason showing up threw me. Was this his idea of showing effort? A marriage-saving gesture? Or was he just making an appearance for appearances’ sake? He was so addicted to work, to control, to looking like the perfect partner. I wasn’t sure he even remembered what real connection felt like.
I needed air. I walked past the bathrooms and toward the small outdoor patio.
Will was standing under the string lights by the fountain, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted toward the ground.
The soft ripple of the water behind him filled the silence in a way that only made it seem louder. He looked up the moment he heard me.
“Hello, you,” I said, my voice breathy with nerves I couldn’t hide.
He turned, and the way his eyes swept over me, the rest of the world fell away.
“Hi,” he said softly. “I was hoping you’d come out here.”
“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” I admitted. “I thought this was more Kelly’s domain.”
“I was feeling charitable,” he said, as his dimples carved in.
“I see. I’m surprised you didn’t bid on the puppy… or the dinner with the Housewife.”
“I’m holding out for the private dance lessons with a surprise guest from Dancing with the Stars.”
“I hear that’s going for a lot. Better get your paddle ready,” I advised.
“The way you just said paddle…”
He took a step closer to me. “I wish more than anything I was your date tonight.”
When his gaze dropped to my mouth, I felt it like a touch.
“I hate this,” I said. “Seeing you and pretending like we’re strangers. Watching you from across the room and not being able to—” I cut myself off, the words sticking in my throat.
“Me too.” His voice cracked. “Every time I see you and can’t touch you… it kills me.”
Our fingers touched, barely. Just a whisper of contact, but it lit something in me that made it hard to breathe. It would’ve been so easy to fall into him, to lose all sense of consequences and just feel. But we didn’t. We couldn’t.
“I should go back in,” I said, even though my body was screaming at me to stay.
He nodded, but his eyes didn’t let go of mine. “I know,” he said, “but I’ll be thinking about you all night.”
I swallowed, heart racing. “Don’t.”
“Too late.”
We stood there for one more second, the ache between us so thick I could taste it. And then I turned, slowly walking away from the man I couldn’t stop wanting, and back into the ballroom, where the paddles were still rising, and my husband was waiting.
Back into the life I was still pretending to belong to.