He wrapped an arm around Sloane.
“To the woman I should’ve found in the first place.”
That earned another round of applause.
For one terrible second, I couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t merely the insult.
It was the calculation behind it.
Caleb had invited me so I could hear him say it.
He wanted witnesses.
He wanted the room to see the discarded first wife while he celebrated the upgrade.
I reached for my purse.
“We’re leaving,” I whispered.
Eli caught my wrist.
“Not yet.”
His voice sounded different.
“Eli.”
“Please, Mom.”
Then he stood.
He reached beneath the table and pulled out his backpack.
Before I could stop him, he walked toward the dance floor.
Caleb noticed him approaching and broke into a grin.
“Looks like my best man forgot his speech.”
A few guests laughed.
Eli stopped in front of him.
“You said I could give you something.”
“Absolutely.”
Caleb held out his hand.
Eli didn’t give him the backpack.
Instead, he removed a narrow black gift box tied with plain twine.
Then he looked toward the DJ.
“Can I borrow the microphone?”
Caleb chuckled.
“Sure, buddy.”
He handed it over.
People immediately began smiling.
I knew what they expected.
A sweet little speech.
Something about fishing trips.
Something sentimental enough to make Sloane cry and Caleb look like Father of the Year.
Eli held the microphone in one hand and the box in the other.
“I didn’t know what to get you for your wedding,” he began.
His voice shook slightly.
“So I decided to give you something you left behind.”
Caleb’s smile faltered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eli held out the box.
“Open it.”
Caleb looked around the room as if this were all part of a joke.
Then he pulled off the twine.
He lifted the lid.
And the color disappeared from his face.
“No.”
The word came out louder than it needed to.
Then he reached inside.
His hand jerked back.
“What the hell is this?”
The room went silent.
Sloane leaned toward him.
“What is it?”
Caleb snapped the lid shut.
Too late.
Eli raised the microphone.
“It’s Dad’s old phone.”
My stomach dropped.
I recognized it immediately.
Caleb had used that phone before upgrading two years earlier.
I thought he had traded it in.
Apparently, he hadn’t.
“I found it in the box of stuff Dad left in the garage,” Eli continued.
“Eli,” Caleb warned.
But my son kept talking.
“It turned on when I charged it.”
Sloane looked from Eli to Caleb.
“And?”
Eli swallowed.
“It still had everything on it.”
Nobody laughed now.
Caleb grabbed for the box.
Eli stepped backward.
I was already moving toward him.
“Give me the microphone,” Caleb hissed.
“No.”
“Eli.”
“There were pictures.”
Caleb froze.
“There were messages too.”
Sloane stood.
“What messages?”
Caleb turned quickly.
“Sloane, this is completely inappropriate. He’s a kid. He doesn’t know what he saw.”
Eli looked at her.
“I know dates.”
That sentence changed the room.
He opened his backpack.
Then he removed a blue folder.
Caleb stared at it as though it were a weapon.
Eli handed it directly to Sloane.
She opened it.
Inside were printed screenshots.
Dozens of them.
I had no idea they existed.
The first page showed a message between Caleb and Sloane.
November 9.
Eight months before Caleb moved out.
Wish I could wake up beside you instead of pretending over there.
Sloane read it.
Her eyebrows pulled together.
She flipped to the next page.
Then another.
Her face slowly changed.
“These dates are wrong.”
Caleb immediately said, “Exactly.”
Eli shook his head.
“They’re not.”
Sloane looked at Caleb.
“You told me you were living in the guest room by October.”
Caleb rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“I basically was.”
My voice finally returned.
“No, you weren’t.”
Every head turned toward me.
I walked onto the edge of the dance floor.
“November ninth?”
I laughed once, quietly.
“That weekend we took Eli to his basketball tournament in Savannah. You slept beside me both nights.”
Sloane stared at him.
Caleb pointed at me.
“Don’t do this.”
I almost admired the nerve.
“Do what? Remember my own marriage?”
Sloane continued flipping pages.
There were hotel confirmations.
Photographs.
Restaurant reservations.
Messages Caleb had sent me and Sloane minutes apart.
To me:
Running late. Board dinner.
To her:
Meet me upstairs in twenty.
To me:
Miss you guys.
To her:
I wish I didn’t have to keep pretending at home.
Then Sloane stopped.
Her face went completely still.
“What is this?”
Caleb took one step toward her.
“Sloane—”
She lifted the page.
It wasn’t a message between them.
It was a conversation between Caleb and one of his friends.
Three weeks after he proposed to her.
His friend had written:
You sure Sloane knows the whole timeline?
Caleb had replied:
She knows the version she needs to know.
A murmur moved through the ballroom.
Sloane read the sentence again.
