After that, I started confessing to him every chance I got—every special holiday.
At first, he’d patiently try to talk me out of it. Then, he just stopped saying much of anything.
And eventually, he started avoiding me altogether. He worked late, coming home later and later.
Then he started showing up at events with different women on his arm.
Until three months ago, when he brought Ginger home.
“This is Ginger, my fiancée,” he said, calm and matter-of-fact, in the foyer.
I stood frozen on the staircase, staring at the woman. She was beautiful in her Chanel suit.
She had her arm looped through him, a perfect little smile on her face.
“You must be Darcey,” she said, her tone warm but formal. “Lee talks about you all the time.”
At that moment, it felt like someone had reached into my chest and crushed my heart in their fist.
The pain spread, filling my body like a poison until I thought my knees might give out.
But I still managed to smile. “Welcome to the family, Ginger.”
After that day, I started pulling back from him. I stopped waiting for him at dinner. Stopped hovering near his study. Even when we did cross paths, our exchanges were brief and distant.
Just like tonight.