Marybeth
I should have left the moment I saw her. That instinct came fast. Clean. Certain. Walk away. Avoid it. Keep things contained. But Seraphina didn’t give me the chance.
“Marybeth.” Her voice carried easily across the restaurant, smooth and composed, as if we were acquaintances meeting by coincidence instead of standing in the middle of something far more complicated.
I smiled, but it was strained. Of course, I did. She was already moving toward me, Rowan beside her … no, not beside her. Pulled into step with her, as if she had decided for both of them that this interaction would happen.
Like nothing had changed. Like yesterday hadn’t existed. Like I hadn’t stood in front of Rowan and told him my son’s father was dead.
“Seraphina,” I said. My tone matched hers. Polite. Contro
