(Rebecca's POV)
At twenty weeks, Lisa invites me to her spring luncheon.
Garden tables set with linen, Jack running between the roses with two cousins his age while the adults handle champagne and small talk with varying degrees of grace.
Ivy finds me near the dessert table. Syrup-voiced, smile arranged just so.
"A new baby! How lovely." She glances toward Jack, who's chasing a cousin near the hedges, oblivious. "And little Jack — don't worry, sweetheart, when the real family comes, you'll always have your father—"
I'm already turning. Lisa's already rising from her chair three tables over, cane forgotten against the table leg.
Sean gets there first.
He crosses the lawn without hurrying, without shouting, and takes the champagne glass directly out of Ivy's hand.
"You're done."
His
