Ethan's hand pressed hard against the velvet ring box on the table.
"You have to choose, Mom," Ethan demanded. "Him or my wedding."
I stared at his fingers gripping the small box. I didn't apologize. Instead, I reached out and gently pushed his hand off the dark blue velvet.
"Are you offering to let me decide your marriage, too?" I asked.
Ethan yanked his hand back as if the velvet had burned him. "That is completely different. I love Lily. You just met him."
"And I am an adult," I replied.
"You're turning my engagement dinner into a humiliating scandal," he argued, his voice rising enough to draw a look from a waiter passing by.
"Embarrassment isn't a crime, Ethan," I said, keeping my tone flat. "Forcing someone to abandon their own life is."
"He is my fiancé's father," Ethan shot back. "How is that not a crime against my future?"
"Your future is yours to build. My private life is mine."
Beside him, Lily shrank into her chair. Her pale pink dress suddenly looked too big for her narrow shoulders. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table.
"If our parents are doing... that kind of thing," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know how we can keep planning this. It's weird. It's wrong."
I glanced at Grant. He sat still. His dark eyes dropped to his daughter’s white knuckles gripping the linen cloth. I expected him to jump in, to soothe her, to distance himself from me completely.
He didn't say a single word to defend himself.
"Let me be perfectly clear," I said, addressing the entire table. I needed to set the record straight before Ethan dragged this into something completely unmanageable. "Three days ago, I met a man at a hotel bar. We had two drinks. I did not go into his room. We did not exchange last names. We made zero promises to each other."
Theo leaned back in his chair, swirling his scotch. The ice clinked against the crystal glass. My ex-husband always enjoyed a front-row seat to my mistakes.
"Not going inside is still enough to make a kid sick, Rebecca," Theo sneered. "You couldn't keep it professional for one weekend?"
"It wasn't a professional weekend, Theo. It was a Tuesday night, and I was alone."
"And now you've made a mess of our son's life. Again."
The word again hit a bruised spot in my chest. Saint Agnes Hospital, eighteen years ago. I was fifteen, wearing a flimsy blue wristband, staring at a $427 medical bill I had to sign. The nurses and social workers had looked at me with the exact same expression Theo wore now, telling me the shame of my choices would follow me for the rest of my life.
Now, Theo was sliding that same old shame right back across the tablecloth.
My jaw tightened, and I forced my muscles to relax. I didn't cry. I picked up my linen napkin, folded it neatly into a square, and placed it beside my plate.
"I will pause any private contact with Mr. Mercer," I told Ethan, looking directly into my son's eyes. "I will not interfere with your wedding. But I will never agree that I don't deserve to be wanted."
Ethan blinked, caught off guard by the finality in my voice.
Theo seized the opening immediately. He sat up straight, buttoning his suit jacket with a quick flick of his wrists.
"I’ll step in from here," Theo announced. "Ethan and I will handle the venue and the caterers. Rebecca, you need to remove yourself from the wedding group chat."
"Excuse me?" I challenged.
"You heard me. You are a distraction. I am protecting my son's marriage." He delivered the instruction like a judge handing down a restraining order.
"You don't get to banish me from my son's life, Theo."
"I'm keeping the peace," Theo countered.
Grant finally broke his silence. "I'll manage Lily's side of things," he said, his voice calm and steady. "We can bring in a third party to coordinate the actual logistics between the families. There is no need to push anyone out entirely."
I waited for Grant to add the expected apology. I waited for him to tell his daughter that our encounter was a foolish mistake, a lapse in judgment that would never happen again.
He didn't.
The omission made my pulse flutter against my ribs. He was yielding on the wedding plans, but he was refusing to disavow what happened between us.
"Marisol Vega can do it," Theo said, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen aggressively. "She planned the corporate retreat last year. I'll add her to a new chat right now. The parents will only discuss wedding details in public, through Marisol."
Ethan nodded, his shoulders dropping a fraction. He looked satisfied, like he had successfully wrestled the steering wheel back into his own hands. "Fine. Marisol handles the crossover stuff."
The air in the dining room felt too thick to breathe. I stood up, grabbing my purse from the back of my chair.
"I'm going to get my coat," I said.
"Don't take too long," Theo muttered, not looking up from his phone. "We still have to review the catering budget."
I walked out into the dimly lit hallway of the restaurant. The muffled clatter of silverware and the low hum of conversation faded behind me. I found my trench coat draped over a wooden hanger near the restrooms. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, welcoming the familiar weight of the fabric.
Footsteps sounded on the carpet.
I turned. Grant stopped exactly three steps away from me. The warm restaurant lighting cast sharp shadows across his jaw. He shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I won't treat you like a problem I need to fix," Grant said, his tone low.
My stomach tightened. "Don't use that voice on me."
"What voice?"
"The one you used outside room 1816. The one that made me almost walk through that door."
Grant took a half-step closer. He pulled his right hand from his pocket and let it rest at his side. "That night, I only knew your first name."
"And now you know I am your daughter's future mother-in-law. You know my son is terrified of us."
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then flicked back to my eyes. "Now I know more, and I cannot pretend it didn't happen."
"You have to," I insisted, stepping back until my shoulders brushed the flocked wallpaper. "For their sake. We just agreed to keep everything separate."
"I agreed to a third-party wedding planner," he replied. "I didn't agree to forget how you looked standing outside my door."
A sharp electronic click echoed from the corner of the corridor.
I spun around.
Theo stood by the edge of the hallway wall, lowering his phone. The screen cast a pale glow over his smug smile.
"I'll save this one for Ethan," Theo said.
