“I think you know,” I say, fighting back tears. I tell myself I can’t cry. It’s game over if I let even one tear drop.

“I have no clue,” Grady says in a frantic whisper. He leans across the table, close enough for me to see the stubble of his blond beard. “What is this about?”

When I don’t answer, he looks past me, toward the bar. “Do your friends have something to do with this?”

I shake my head.

His eyes narrow as he shifts in his seat. “Are you sure about that?”

“Positive.”

“You’re sure nothing happened with you and Tyson?”

I stare at him, incredulous. Pissed. How dare he try to flip the script on me.

“No, Grady. Nothing happened with Tyson,” I say, determined to stay calm. “That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

He makes a scoffing sound, then says, “So I’m supposed to believe that it’s purely coincidental that we’re having this conversation right after he gets to town?”

I reach for my water glass, then choose my champagne flute instead, downing it.

“Well?” he demands.

I put my glass back down on the table and say, “They know nothing about this.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says. “I think Tyson has a lot to do with this.”

I bite my tongue, reminding myself that it no longer matters what Grady thinks or believes. I know the truth. I have the knowledge and the power.

“That guy has always had a thing for you.” Grady doubles down, his fists landing on the table.

I blink, then clear my throat. “Are you projecting, Grady?”

“No, I’m not projecting!”

“Are you sure? Because they say the biggest cheaters always accuse their partners of infidelity.”

“That’s a stupid theory,” he scoffs.

“So you’ve been faithful to me?” I say, daring him to lie to my face.

“Yes!” he says. “One thousand percent!”

I take a deep breath. “Okay, Grady,” I say. “You have two choices. You can either confess to me what you’ve done or lose me forever—”

“Hannah! I have never cheated on you,” he says, looking so wounded, so deeply offended that for a nanosecond, I stupidly doubt what I saw with my own eyes.

“Okay, Grady. If you say so.”

He gives me a look of relief, unclenching his jaw and dropping his shoulders. I pick up my clutch and slowly get to my feet.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, looking frantic.

“You made your choice,” I say, staring down at him.

“What choice?”

“The choice to lie to my face.”

“Hannah! I’m not lying. I would never, ever—”

“Stop talking, Grady. I’m leaving.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he asks, looking more panicked than I’ve ever seen him.

“I mean—I’m leaving this restaurant. I’m leaving this relationship. I’m leaving you.”

“Hannah! Wait. Please, please don’t do this,” he says, his hands in prayer formation. “Please, Hannah. I love you.”

I stare into his eyes, and for one fleeting second, I feel sorry for him. Then I remember the way he looked in bed with Berlin.

“Sorry, Grady. We’re done,” I say, shaking my head. “Have a nice life.”

Chapter 5

Tyson

I keep one eye on Hannah while I sit at the bar. Lainey’s back is to our table, so she keeps glancing over her shoulder. I tell her to knock it off before Grady sees her, so she demands a play-by-play. I tell her they’re just talking.

Then, suddenly, Hannah gets up from the table and starts to walk toward us.

“Okay. She’s coming,” I say.

“Oh, shit. That was fast. How does she look?”

I tell her Hannah looks pretty calm—and her chin is up—but as she gets closer, I start to worry that she’s almost too composed. Maybe she hasn’t done the deed?

“What about Grady? What’s he doing?”

“Nothing. He’s just sitting there. Looking at his phone. Maybe she’s going to the restroom?”

“Ugh. If she chickens out—I swear to God—I will go over there and do it myself. And wine will be thrown!”

“No doubt,” I say, just as Hannah makes eye contact with me. She gives me a slight nod before making a sharp turn at the hostess stand, heading straight out the restaurant door.

“She just walked out,” I say, getting pumped. “She must have done it!”

“Wow!” Lainey says, spinning around on her stool.