My name is Cade Van Holt, and I watched my wife walk out of my gala with another woman holding her hand.
She did not look back. Not once.
The hallway door shut behind her, and the party noise behind me got loud again.
I was not sorry. I was annoyed. She had picked a hell of a night to throw a fit.
She'd be back in an hour. She was always back.
I typed it fast and hit send, then I called her.
Cade: Come home. Now.
It rang until her voicemail picked up, cheerful and fake, and I hung up before it finished.
Corinne: Where is Wren? People are asking.
Cade: She wasn't feeling well. She went home.
I said it loud enough for the circle around us to smile and move on.
Ilse: No, Cade. That is not what happened.
My mother stepped out of the crowd with her pearls and her sharp blue eyes, and her voice carried.
Ilse: Your wife left because you let her sister slap her and then told her to smile.
The circle around us went quiet, and my neck got hot under my collar.
Corinne laughed like it was a joke, and nobody laughed with her.
Cade: Mother. Not here.
Ilse: Yes, here. Right here is exactly where this family embarrasses itself.
Ilse: A wife is not a decoration, Cade. You do not hang her on the wall and forget which way she faces.
I pulled my arm out of her hand hard enough that she stumbled in her heels.
Brynn: She'll come crawling back by midnight. She always does.
Brynn: She's the fucking wife on the paperwork, Cade. Don't let her ruin your night.
Ilse: And you. Take that necklace off before I take it off for you.
Brynn's hand flew to the pendant, and her smile finally cracked.
Brynn: Grandma gave it to me.
Ilse: Grandma is dead. You have been wearing another woman's jewelry all night and calling it a gift.
Brynn looked at me to save her. I looked at the ice in my glass.
Ilse: Fix this, you stubborn bastard. Or the audit finds you a single man.
She said audit like a threat and walked off, and the whispers started before she was three steps away.
I set my glass down and walked out through the coat room where all of this started.
The old perfume was still in the air, and her lipstick was still on my mouth.
In the car I called her again, and the voicemail picked up again, and I listened to the whole thing this time.
Cade: Call me back. You're making a scene, and you're not even here to enjoy it.
The mansion was dark when I got home. Her coat was not on the hook. Her shoes were not by the stairs.
The bed was made, cold, and empty on her side, and I stood there like a fucking idiot.
I was not guilty. I told myself that twice.
I was annoyed that she had made me look like a man who could not keep his own wife in the room.
Nobody walked out on Cade Van Holt. Not even her.
She would come home tomorrow with her chin down and her apology ready, and I would let her have the last word this once.
That was what I told myself, and I almost believed it.