I feel the blood drain from my face as Ryan’s eyes slowly turn toward me, his expression unreadable. That stare—cold, calculating—sends a chill down my spine, but I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“What the hell is this, Julie?”
I take a deep breath, trying to play it cool even though my heart is pounding in my chest. “What does it look like?” I ask. I lean back into my seat and cross one leg over the other.
Ryan's jaw tightens. “It looks like you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Do I?”
God, I hate this. Why is it always a performance with him? Why does he get to be the one who’s angry?
Emily, who’s still clutching her phone like it’s a live grenade, glances nervously between the two of us. I can tell she’s trying to figure out how to mediate without getting caught in
