The hallway was wide and gold and silent.
Diana saw Arianne first. The dress caught the chandelier light as she walked, her hand resting on Noah Hart’s arm. She moved the way she had always moved—calm, unhurried, as if the world would rearrange itself to accommodate her. Beside her, Noah Hart was saying sothing low, his head inclined toward hers, and Arianne’s expression was relaxed in a way Diana had never seen before. Not the cold composure from the society pages. Not the controlled reserve from the press conference. Sothing private. Sothing real.
Then Dominic froze.
His arm went rigid under her hand. Diana felt it before she understood it—the sudden tension, the way his whole body locked as if he’d been struck. She looked up at his face and saw the expression she had co to dread. Blank. Utterly blank. The mask he wore whenever Arianne Sumrs was ntioned, whenever her na appeared in the news, whenever soone asked if he’d heard she was back in Montclair.
Arianne didn’t stop walking. She didn’t speak. She rely glanced at Dominic—acknowledgnt, nothing more, the briefest nod—and then she and Noah Hart passed them and continued down the hallway. They turned the corner and disappeared.
The silence stretched. Diana’s hand remained on Dominic’s arm. She could feel his pulse through the fabric of his jacket, faster than it should have been.
"Dominic."
He didn’t respond. He was staring at the empty hallway where Arianne had been.
"Dominic." She tugged his arm. "They’re gone."
A blink. He turned to her as if rembering she was there.
"Yes. Of course." His voice was even. Controlled. "Shall we?"
He resud walking toward the restaurant as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just frozen in the middle of a hotel hallway at the sight of a woman he hadn’t spoken to in years. Diana followed, her hand on his arm, and said nothing.
She had been restless for months.
Ever since that afternoon at Montclair Grand Mall, when she had turned a corner and found herself face-to-face with Arianne Sumrs for the first ti since the engagent banquet. Arianne had been with two children, twins Diana later learned, the son and daughter of Alexander and Layla Rochefort. One of them had called Arianne "Mommy." Diana had stood frozen, watched Arianne Sumrs, the woman her husband had left at the altar, bend down to comfort a small boy with a whale toy clutched in his arms.
She had looked different. Softer. More human. Diana had gone ho that night and lain awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way Arianne had looked at those children. The way she had touched the boy’s forehead. The way she had smiled—actually smiled—when the little girl tugged at her sleeve.
The comparisons between Diana and Arianne had been brutal for years. The beautiful heiress. The pregnant mistress. The scandal that had dominated every society page for months. When the news broke that Arianne was dating Noah Hart, the whispers had died down. Arianne had moved on. She was with a superstar now, a man more famous, more desirable, more everything than Dominic Blackwood could ever be. The public narrative had moved from pity to curiosity. What does Noah Hart see in her? How did she catch him?
The silence hadn’t brought Diana peace. Dominic changed whenever Arianne’s na was ntioned. His expression went blank. He never spoke of her. Never acknowledged her. Which ant, Diana had learned over six years of marriage, that he was thinking about her constantly.
He had been occupied more lately. Working late. Leaving early. Nicholas, their son, turning five this year, barely saw him anymore. So mornings Nicholas asked where Daddy was, and Diana had to invent excuses. He’s at work. He had an early eting. He’ll be ho tonight. She had stopped believing her own words months ago.
She tried not to overthink. She told herself Dominic was busy. The company demanded his attention. The thoughts ca anyway, unwanted and persistent, in the dark hours before dawn. Is he thinking of her at all? Does he regret choosing ? Does he look at Nicholas and wish he were soone else’s son?
Tonight was supposed to be different. Dominic had invited her for a romantic dinner, sothing they hadn’t done in a long ti. Not since Arianne’s return. Not since the news of Noah Hart. He had made the reservation himself. He had told her to dress nicely. She had allowed herself, for the first ti in months, to hope.
And then Arianne had walked down the hallway, and Dominic had frozen, and Diana’s hope had curdled into sothing cold and familiar.
At the restaurant, Dominic pulled out her chair. He ordered a bottle of wine, the vintage she preferred, the one she’d ntioned years ago, and which he had sohow rembered. He ordered her al according to her taste. The waiter nodded and disappeared.
Diana looked at her husband across the table. He was handso in the candlelight. The sa face she had fallen in love with six years ago, when she was young and foolish and believed that a man who left soone else for her would never leave her. She had been wrong about so many things.
"I’ve been thinking about Nicholas," she said. "He’s turning five soon. We should enroll him in preschool. He needs to learn how to be around other children his age."
Dominic paused. Considered. Then nodded. "You’re right. It’s ti he learned to socialize. I’ll leave the school arrangents to you."
"Will you co with ? To visit the schools?"
"If my schedule permits."
His schedule never permitted. She had learned not to push. She nodded and took a sip of wine.
Around them, the restaurant humd with low conversation. At a nearby table, two won were murmuring to each other. Diana caught fragnts of their words, Noah Hart, the dress, did you see them together, they’re not even hiding it anymore, and realized they were talking about Arianne and Noah. Even here. Even now.
"I wouldn’t be surprised if they tie the knot soon," one of the won said. "They’ve been together for a while now. And the way he looks at her—"
Diana looked at Dominic. He had heard it too. His fork was motionless above his plate.
She set her glass down. "Is Arianne planning to get married soon?"
Dominic looked at her. "What?"
"I was just wondering. The news. The rumors. She and Noah Hart seem serious." Diana kept her voice even. "It’s ti for her to settle down, don’t you think? After what we did to her. She deserves to be happy."
She ant it. That was the strange part. She genuinely ant it.
Arianne Sumrs had been destroyed by the sa man who had built a life with Diana, and Diana had spent six years waiting for the bill to co due. If Arianne married Noah Hart, if she moved on completely, if she disappeared into a new life with a new na and a new family, maybe Dominic would finally let her go. Maybe Diana could stop living in the shadow of a woman she had wronged.
Dominic paused. When he spoke, his voice was controlled. "It’s not our place to comnt on her life and choices. Arianne knows what she’s doing. She always has."
"Of course. I was just—"
"I know what you were doing."
The words were not unkind. They were final. Diana closed her mouth. Picked up her fork. The food on her plate had gone cold. She hadn’t noticed.
The silence between them stretched. Dominic resud eating, his expression unreadable. The won at the next table had moved on to a different topic. The candle flickered between them.
Diana thought about Nicholas, asleep at ho with the nanny, and the years she had spent trying to be enough for a man who had never quite seed to forgive her for being the reason he lost Arianne. She thought about the mall, and the twins, and the way Arianne had looked at those children as if they were her own.
She regretted this dinner. She regretted hoping. She regretted every mont she had spent believing Dominic might one day look at her the way Noah Hart had looked at Arianne in the hallway, as if she were the only person in the world who mattered.
"I’m tired," she said. "I think I’d like to go ho."
Dominic looked up. "We haven’t finished dessert."
"I know. I’m sorry. I just—" She didn’t finish. She didn’t know how.
He studied her. Then he nodded. Signaled for the bill. Helped her with her coat. He rembered all the gestures. The small courtesies. The habits of a husband who knew his wife’s preferences and honored them without ever truly seeing her.
They walked out of the restaurant together, past the table where the won were talking, past the hallway where Arianne had nodded and kept walking. Diana’s hand rested on Dominic’s arm. She could feel the tension coiled beneath his sleeve.
He was thinking about Arianne. She knew it as certainly as she knew her own na. He was thinking about Arianne, and he would be thinking about Arianne for the rest of the night, and there was nothing Diana could do to stop it.
She had spent six years trying. She was so tired of trying.
Reviews
All reviews (0)