Chapter 2

When I opened the bags, I found that all the clothes had already been opened.

The tags had been removed. There was also a dried piece of sticky chocolate stuck to the beige pants. It hadn't been cleaned off.

Even though it had dried, the stain was still obvious.

And since the tags were gone, the clothes couldn't be returned.

As I stared at the stain, it felt like I was looking at the mess my three-year marriage had become. "Who opened the clothes?"

Ezra froze for a moment before lowering his voice and explaining. "Yvette opened them. She thought I had bought them for her when the package arrived, so she opened them..."

I calmly asked, "She opened them and got them dirty, and you still brought them back for me to give to Dad and Mom?"

Ezra immediately became impatient. "It is what it is! What else can we do? The tags were cut off, so we can't return them. The clothes are your parents' size, so no one else can wear them. If you don't want to give them to your parents, just throw them away."

I knew exactly who he meant by "no one else."

The truth was ridiculous, but it was real.

He only brought the clothes back because they didn't fit Yvette's parents.

Otherwise, just like all the other packages he had "accidentally" sent to the wrong address, Yvette would have kept them.

I shoved the clothes back into the bag. "You deal with them."

I turned to walk toward the study, but Ezra called after me, "Can you stop making a big deal out of everything? I specifically made a reservation at an upscale French restaurant to apologize to you. It's Christmas. Can't we stop fighting over little things?"

He pulled me out the door.

But when we arrived at the restaurant, I saw that someone was already sitting there.

She was wearing a little cocktail dress and delicate strappy heels. Her makeup was flawless, and even her hair was perfectly styled.

I, on the other hand, had been dragged out of the house by Ezra in an oversized long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of casual pants. My long hair was loosely clipped up with a claw clip.

I looked completely out of place in such an upscale French restaurant.

Ezra was dressed in a button-down shirt and a suit. Sitting beside Yvette, they looked like a stylish couple on a romantic date.

I looked like the third wheel.

I didn't ask why Yvette had arrived at the restaurant Ezra had supposedly reserved to make it up to me.

As he pulled out a chair for me, Ezra explained, "Yvette didn't go home for Christmas this year. She's wanted to try this restaurant for a long time, so I invited her to come with us. She's young and doesn't know any better. I hope you can be understanding."

I looked at Ezra.

Before we got married, he had once mentioned that Yvette was six months older than me.

Yet now he was telling me that Yvette was young and that I should be more understanding toward her.

I didn't even want to figure out whether he was favoring her or had simply forgotten.

He couldn't remember that I didn't like French food.

But he remembered that Yvette had wanted to try this restaurant for a long time.

I didn't ask who he had been thinking about when he made the reservation.

There was no point.

I sat across from Ezra and watched as he and Yvette sat side by side. They took the menus from the waiter and started ordering without even noticing me.

"You love macarons. Let's get some."

"I remember you like them too. Then let's get two orders."

"These escargots look really good."

"I knew you'd like them! This restaurant is famous for its escargots. You're going to love them."

...

Only after they finished ordering did they seem to remember that I was there.

Ezra cleared his throat. "We ordered enough food for three people."

Yvette gave me a sweet smile. "Hayley, I'm sorry. Once Ez and I started talking about food, we completely forgot everything else."

"Ez." I silently repeated the name in my head.

They had broken up almost six years ago, yet she still called him by that affectionate nickname.

And he seemed completely used to it.

But whenever I jokingly called him "Ezzy," he would frown and tell me not to call him that because it sounded too cheesy.

They had ordered classic escargots, foie gras, oysters, mussels, and poached salmon.

I only stared at the dishes on the table. I didn't start eating.

Yvette, however, had been excited from the moment the food started arriving.

Every time the waiter brought out another dish, she let out a little gasp. She would pick up her knife and fork, looking like she couldn't wait to start eating.

Ezra skillfully cut the foie gras and placed it on her plate.

She pretended to be surprised and thanked him.

Then Ezra frowned and looked at me. "Your favorite salmon is here too. Why aren't you eating?"

I calmly replied, "I'm allergic to seafood. I never eat salmon."

He froze.