The whole room went quiet. Grant's hand was still locked around Sloane's arm.
Grant: Get your hands off my wife.
Kellan slid his hand out from under my dress. Slow. He didn't hurry for anyone.
Then he stood and held out his hand like they were meeting at a wedding.
Kellan: Evening. You must be the husband.
Grant: Who the fuck are you.
Kellan: Kellan. I'm Lena's boyfriend.
The word rolled around the room like a dropped tray.
A man at the bar laughed into his drink, and his wife hit him.
Sloane: Grant. Everyone's watching.
Grant leaned down over the booth. His voice was low enough that only we could hear it, and that made it worse.
Grant: I don't know what this little stunt is. But you're going home. Now.
I picked up my glass and took a sip. My hand was steady. That surprised me.
Lena: No.
Grant: Lena. Not here.
Lena: You did it at my table in front of forty people. This room is smaller. I thought you'd handle it better.
His jaw moved like he was chewing on something he couldn't spit out.
The club manager started toward us, and Grant waved him off without even looking.
Grant: Fine. Have your joke. We'll talk at home.
Lena: I'm not going home. Not tonight.
The bartender stopped wiping the counter. Nobody in that room was pretending not to hear now.
Grant didn't yell. That's how I knew he was really angry.
He took Sloane by the elbow and walked her toward the back hall.
Grant: Wine room. Now.
Kellan leaned in close. His mouth was almost at my ear.
Kellan: That's the wine room. He takes people back there to close deals.
Lena: Good. So will I.
Kellan: Want me to come with you?
Lena: No. This one's mine.
I stood up. My legs were steady. It had been a long time since they were.
The hall was dim and the carpet was thick. At the end there was a glass door with a light behind it.
I could hear the table knocking the wall.
Sloane was on the long oak table with her dress bunched around her waist.
Grant was between her knees. Shirt on. Tie on. Trousers around his ankles.
He drove into her with his whole body and the table jumped. Bottles rattled on the shelf.
Sloane: Harder. Right there. Oh god, don't stop.
One hand in her hair, one flat on the table by her hip. His face was red, his mouth open.
Six years married, and I had never once seen him look like that.
I put my whole hand on the door and pushed. It swung in and hit the wall.
Grant's head came up. Sloane shrieked and grabbed for the tablecloth.
Lena: Don't stop on my account.
He pulled out of her so fast she slid off the table and hit the floor on her knees.
Grant: Lena. You crazy bitch.
His belt was still open. He didn't even look down at Sloane.
Grant: Go home right now and I'll forget this happened.
Lena: No.
I stepped into the room so he had to look at me.
Lena: I was home for six years, Grant. You never once noticed.
Grant: You're going to regret this.
He took a step toward me. I didn't back up.