I suddenly felt ridiculous. Pathetic, even, for daring to hope he might come back to me.
"Hey, doesn't that dress she's wearing look familiar?"
Two receptionists whispered behind me.
"I knew something was off about her the second she walked in. Now it makes sense."
"That's hilarious. Trying to copy Mrs. Delgado's style to seduce Mr. Delgado, and he won't even look at her."
"See the snagged thread on the hem? Last time Mr. Delgado brought his wife to parenting class, Mrs. Delgado was wearing that exact dress and caught the fabric on something. Mr. Delgado didn't even blink, just bought her a dozen limited-edition dresses on the spot."
Their voices weren't loud, but they were loud enough.
I turned to look at the man beside me. His sharp, cold profile hit me like a slap I couldn't hear.
The taste of blood lingered between my teeth. My fingers clenched the fabric of my skirt until my knuckles went white.
So that was it. To Bertram, I was only fit to wear Alexis Pruitt's hand-me-downs.
"Bertram!"
The next second, Alexis burst out from behind the glass partition, beaming as she ran toward us.
She slammed into my shoulder as she passed, then threw herself into Bertram's arms.