4. A Dinner for Two

Claire's POV

The message remained open on my phone long after I had finished reading it.

Outside the penthouse windows, Manhattan glittered beneath the deepening evening sky, its countless lights stretching toward the horizon like stars scattered across black velvet. Normally I loved this view. There was something reassuring about watching the city continue its restless movement no matter what was happening in my own life. Tonight, however, I barely noticed it.

My attention remained fixed on the message Damien had sent.

Dinner tonight. We need to discuss what happens after the divorce.

The words were simple enough. There was nothing cruel about them. Damien had always been direct, and if there was one thing I could never accuse him of, it was dishonesty. Four years ago, when he had first proposed our arrangement, he had made the terms perfectly clear. The marriage would last four years. At the end of those four years, we would go our separate ways.

The problem was not that Damien had changed the rules, the problem was that I had. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped thinking of our marriage as temporary.

I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and pressed my palms against the cool marble surface. The rational part of me understood exactly what tonight's dinner was. It was a conversation about logistics. About lawyers and paperwork and financial settlements. About ending something that had always been intended to end.

Unfortunately, the rational part of me had never stood much of a chance against the woman who loved her husband. I laughed softly at myself if Olivia could see me now, she would probably stage an intervention and the thought brought a smile to my face, although it faded quickly.

My eyes drifted toward my purse. The ultrasound photograph remained tucked safely inside. I had taken it out at least ten times since returning home and every time I looked at it, the same impossible mixture of joy and fear swept through me.

A baby, my baby, our baby but no matter how many times I repeated the words in my head, they still felt miraculous. My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. Nothing had changed physically. I looked exactly the same as I had a week ago. Yet everything felt different. Every decision suddenly carried more weight. Every possibility seemed larger and every disappointment hurt more.

Unable to sit still any longer, I grabbed my coat and left the apartment. The cool evening air greeted me as soon as I stepped outside. People hurried past carrying shopping bags and coffee cups, their conversations blending into the familiar hum of city life. I started walking without any particular destination in mind.

The movement helped at least a little. For several blocks, I allowed myself to become just another anonymous face moving through Manhattan. Nobody looked at me and saw a woman preparing to discuss the end of her marriage. Nobody knew I was carrying a secret that had the power to change my entire life and nobody knew how desperately I wanted Damien to choose me.

The thought slipped into my mind before I could stop it.

Choose me.

Not because of a contract, not because I was useful and not because I happened to be standing nearby when his life fell apart four years ago. I wanted him to choose me because he loved me. The ridiculousness of that hope should have embarrassed me but instead, it made my chest ache.

I turned a corner and found myself standing in front of a small boutique baby store and for a moment, I simply stared through the display window. Tiny sweaters hung on miniature wooden hangers. Stuffed animals occupied a shelf near the entrance. Soft blankets had been folded into neat stacks beneath carefully arranged displays.

Everything looked impossibly small and impossibly precious before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed open the door and a small bell chimed overhead. Warm light spilled across polished wooden floors, and the scent of lavender drifted through the air.

Immediately, I felt myself smiling. The store was beautiful and more importantly, it felt real.

The doctor's office had felt clinical. The ultrasound photograph felt abstract. Even the positive pregnancy tests had seemed strangely detached from reality.

This was different and felt tangible.

I wandered slowly through the aisles, touching fabrics and reading labels. Every item I picked up seemed impossibly tiny. Tiny socks. Tiny hats. Tiny sweaters. My child will wear these someday and the thought was both wonderful and terrifying.

Near the register, a display of knitted baby shoes caught my attention. A pair of white booties rested atop a folded cream-colored blanket. I reached for them automatically, the wool felt incredibly soft beneath my fingertips and for several seconds, I simply stood there holding them then I smiled.

These were perfect.

The saleswoman wrapped them carefully in tissue paper while I completed my purchase. As she handed me the small box, she smiled warmly. "First baby?"

The question caught me off guard and for a moment, emotion tightened my throat so unexpectedly that I couldn't speak. Then I looked down at the box in my hands and smiled. "Yes." The single word carried more feeling than I intended.

The saleswoman's expression softened immediately. "Congratulations."

"Thank you."

When I stepped back onto the sidewalk a few moments later, I found myself holding the little white box as though it contained something fragile and precious and in a way, it did because it contained the first thing I had ever bought for my child.

The realization stayed with me all the way home by the time I returned to the penthouse, my nerves had become impossible to ignore. Dinner was less than an hour away.

I stood in front of my closet for nearly fifteen minutes before finally pulling out a dark blue dress. The sight of it brought back a memory immediately.

Two years ago, we had been attending a charity gala when Damien looked up from reviewing a speech and casually remarked that the color suited me. The comment had lasted no more than a few seconds and he probably didn't remember it but I remembered every word.

The fact was embarrassing enough that I refused to examine it too closely. Instead, I put on the dress and when I finally looked at my reflection, I laughed softly. For someone who insisted she wasn't hoping for anything, I was putting an alarming amount of effort into dinner.

The restaurant overlooked the Hudson River. It had always been one of Damien's favorite places, although he rarely admitted to having favorites of any kind.

I arrived first as usual and ten minutes later, Damien appeared. The moment he reached the table, something unexpected happened. He stopped and his eyes settled on me not for a second and not for two but long enough that I became acutely aware of every heartbeat.

"You look beautiful." The compliment was so unexpected that it took me a moment to respond.

"Thank you."

His eyes shifted briefly to my dress. "The blue suits you."

Heat rushed into my cheeks. Somehow, after two years, he remembered.

The conversation started awkwardly; neither of us seemed entirely sure how to approach the evening, yet as dinner progressed, the tension gradually faded. We talked about old stories. We argued over who had saved whom during various corporate disasters. We laughed more than I expected.

At one point, Damien reminded me of an executive retreat that had ended with a senior vice president falling into a lake after insisting he knew how to operate a canoe. I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my wine and for a brief, dangerous moment, everything felt easy, everything felt normal and everything felt real.

Three times, I almost told him about the baby and three times, fear stopped me.Then Damien reached into his jacket my heart immediately began pounding as hope surged through me before I could stop it perhaps he was going to tell me he didn't want the divorce or perhaps he was going to ask me to stay but instead, he placed a folder on the table.

The familiar legal logo in the corner instantly destroyed every fantasy I had allowed myself to entertain.

"The lawyers updated everything," Damien said as I stared at the folder. "The settlement amount has been increased." His voice remained calm, professional and businesslike. "I wanted to make sure you are comfortable."

Comfortable.

The word echoed through me. I was carrying his child. I loved him and he was discussing financial compensation. For a moment. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry and somehow, I managed neither.

Then Damien's phone rang and the sound cut through the conversation like a knife he frowned and reached into his pocket and a second later, his expression changed.

Confusion appeared first and then shock and then something far more unsettling. I followed his eyes to the screen and saw the name.

Tiffany Morgan.

The woman who had left him standing at the altar and the woman everyone claimed he had never forgotten and suddenly, I knew this evening was no longer about divorce papers, it was about to become something much worse.