Love At The Wrong Table Novels & Stories

Everything was becoming more confusing. The realization did not frighten Marilyn. It only made her sad for how badly Sarah was about to fall. “Sarah,” Marilyn said quietly, “you’re wrong. And I am asking you to stop before it's too late.” Sarah’s face hardened. “No, Marilyn. You are the one who is wrong.” Joey pointed at the necklace. “If Mr. Stewart bought it for his fiancée, then why are you wearing it?” “Because he gave it to me,” Marilyn replied.

She stumbled over my name, desperate to explain, only to realize no explanation would mean anything now. "Sign the divorce agreement." I handed her the papers I had already printed. "You walk away with nothing. From now on, we go our separate ways." "No! I won't agree to that!" Evelyn grabbed my hand in a panic. "I can't lose you. Arthur, give me one more chance. Just one. Please." She looked wrecked, tears falling one after another. "I never touched Thomas! He fooled me, too! I really thought his family was poor. I thought his parents didn't love him. I just felt sorry for him."

“The agreement was political. It was a treaty and not this.” He stopped a few feet away, tilting his head. “Politics and pleasure go hand in hand, Lyra. You felt it in that locked room with your little maid, didn’t you? All that heat.” His eyes darkened. “I watched the footage. You two were very… passionate. But that’s over now. You’re mine.” My cheeks burned with shame and anger. Cameras. Of course there had been cameras. “You had no right.”

“Anita said you were with her so we came to say hi.” Simone drops into the seat across from me, already stealing a bite of my carbonara. “We brought wine. Well, technically it’s in my bag, but same thing.” Anita smirks. “Told you they’d come.” The table turns chaotic fast. Tara launches into a story about her latest Tinder disaster, guy who showed up with his mom. Simone counters with her blind date who spent the whole night ranking protein shakes. Laughter bounces off the us. For the first time today, my shoulders actually relax a little.

“I’ve loved you since our second year of being together, when you argued so much with me for almost an hour about the perfect way of making jollof rice and still refused to admit how wrong you were.” She burst out laughing. Properly this time. The full laugh. The one that took over her whole face. "I was not wrong about the jollof rice." "You were completely wrong." "I was not...." "Lina." "Okay fine." She was still smiling. Still holding his hand. "Maybe slightly wrong." "Thank you." She shook her head. Looked at him. The smile still there but softer now. Warmer. "What should we do now?" she said.

“I know.” A beat passed between us, stretched thin and heavy with everything neither of us was saying, everything sitting there unspoken but fully understood in the silence between us. “But I did anyway,” he added. Something in the crowd shifted again at that, a subtle ripple of attention breaking and reforming. I didn’t look at them because I didn’t need to—I already knew the attention wasn’t on them anymore. I pressed play, and the tablet lit up instantly showing what they were never supposed to doubt in the first place: a child laughing, a caregiver kneeling to gently wipe tears away, hands offering food, no violence, no cruelty, just life, real life, unedited life.

She smells a trap, well set and subtle but certainly there. Her suspicions are confirmed a moment later when the table comes into view, lit by soft candlelight, covered by a red and white picnic cloth. The centerpiece is a handful of pink carnations, or maybe it's Victor, wearing a scoop neck shirt he was most definitely not wearing before. Two plates of mouthwatering lamb chops are sitting harmlessly at the table, rosemary garnish, and a side of roasted potatoes. "I'll eat in my room," Ariadne says, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Lovely to see you again." "Likewise," Eva said, catching the way Chelsea's eyes kept drifting back to Leeann. There was some sexual tension there for sure. "Alright, ladies, let's go find our table," Leeann said, linking arms with Eva. Their table was tucked to the left of the head table, with namecards marked by initials. Eva, Leeann, and Chelsea took their seats. There were still a few empty spots, one marked D.T., one D.R., and one S.O.

Chapter Seventy Nine: The Performance of Love Later that evening, everyone gathered around the dining table for dinner. The long table was neatly set, the soft lighting giving the room a calm and almost intimate atmosphere. To anyone watching from the outside, it looked like a perfect family scene. But beneath the smiles, different emotions simmered quietly.

Her feet seemed to be playing with the sand as if she was thinking about what would happen next. “Am I wrong?” Selena finally uttered a word after they had been silent for almost ten minutes there. “What do you mean?” Gery faced the beach while letting the wind play with their hair. “With what happened at the table. Do you think I was wrong? I—” Gery interrupted Selena. “Wrong, you were very wrong.” The man finally turned his gaze to Selena with a serious look on his face. “I love you, but that doesn't mean I have to support you when you're wrong.”