Inside was a thick envelope resting on top of two neatly folded restaurant bills.

He picked up the envelope.

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

He pulled out the papers, scanned the first page, and froze.

His eyes snapped toward me.

“Divorce papers?”

I said nothing.

“Claire, what the hell is this?”

He dropped the papers onto the table and grabbed the first bill.

Tonight’s dinner.

Then the second.

It was from earlier that evening at another restaurant inside the hotel—dinner for two, with wine and dessert.

Ryan saw the name beside the reservation.

Hannah.

“Why is her name on this?”

I leaned back.

“For almost a year, you kept telling me I needed to change. Lose weight. Look better. Become someone you could still be attracted to.”

“Claire—”

“So I changed.”

He opened his mouth.

“The problem is, I didn’t become the woman you expected.”

“This is ridiculous.” His voice dropped. “Whatever you think you know—”

“You should probably read the whole thing.”

The voice came from behind him.

Ryan went completely still.

Then he turned.

Hannah stood a few feet behind his chair.

Every trace of color drained from his face.

“What are you doing here?”

She walked toward us.

Ryan stared between us.

“You two met?”

“Surprise, sweetheart.” She nodded toward the receipt in his hand. “We had dinner, compared notes, and took care of everything. All you have to do is pay the bill.”

She glanced at the divorce papers.