she had just watched a child finally learn discipline.
“Pay,” Garrett said softly, “or this ends tonight.”
I slowly wiped my neck with the linen napkin.
The room had gone silent. Waiters froze near the kitchen doors. A couple at the next table stared into their plates, pretending not to watch. Garrett’s younger brother lowered his eyes. Vivian lifted her wineglass and gave me that tiny, poisonous smile she had perfected over five years of marriage.
“You embarrassed him, Claire,” she said. “A wife doesn’t humiliate her husband in public.”
I looked at the bill lying between us.
Eight thousand four hundred dollars.
Garrett had ordered for everyone. Oysters. Wagyu. Champagne. Two bottles of wine he could not pronounce. He had laughed with his family, bragged to the manager, and told the waiter, “My wife will take care of it.”
He always did that.
At first, I had paid because
