And I waited.

Because my attorney told me to wait, and because I have always been better at patience than people expect.

The anniversary dinner was Dana’s idea.

She texted me three weeks before the date, not Ryan, and said she wanted to do something special.

A family dinner.

A celebration.

The whole thing.

She said she had already spoken to the hostess at Sable and Co. and reserved the private room.

My own hostess.

At my own restaurant.

I texted back.

Sounds lovely. Thank you, Dana.

I told Carla the next morning to let me know the moment the reservation details came through.

The night of the dinner, I wore a navy wrap dress and my good earrings.

I drove myself.

Ryan had gone ahead with Dana and their parents because Dana had wanted to set up a few decorations, and Ryan, who has never in his life questioned anything Dana wants, had agreed.

I parked in my own parking lot, nodded to Marcus at the front door.

He has worked for me for six years and is one of the best people I know.

And I walked inside.

That was when the room went quiet.

I understood why when I reached the entrance to the private dining room and looked through the glass panel in the door before pushing it open.

There was a round table set for eight.

There were white roses in the center, which I had not ordered, meaning Dana had called my florist directly.

There were gold place cards at each setting, the kind with names written in calligraphy.

I could read most of them from where I stood.

Ryan’s parents.

Dana.

Dana’s husband, Greg.

Ryan.

And then, in the chair directly across from Ryan’s, the seat that faced the door, the seat that in any formal dinner setting is considered the seat of prominence, the seat that should have held the guest of honor, there was a card that did not say my name.

It said Melissa.

I stood there for a moment.

Just a moment.

Through the glass, I could see Ryan laughing at something Dana had said.

I could see Melissa sitting in my chair, wearing a green dress, her red hair down, looking comfortable in a way that told me this was not her first time meeting his family.

His mother was leaning toward her, saying something.

Melissa was nodding.

Ryan’s mother had never once leaned toward me like that.

I looked around the table for my place card.

I found it eventually near the door, next to Dana’s purse, in the seat closest to the kitchen.

Not even a full seat at the table.

A seat that said, “You are barely here.”

I thought about walking in.

I thought about what I would say.

I thought about the look on Ryan’s face. Whether it would be guilt, or whether it would be something worse.

Relief.

Maybe that it was finally out in the open.

I thought about his mother’s expression and whether she would apologize, or whether she would ask me to be reasonable.

I decided I did not want to find out.

I stepped back from the door.

I smoothed the front of my dress.