The remaining people in the room seemed to be holding their breath.
The air was thick with shame. Rhys stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists, his face a mask of fury and self-loathing. He looked at me, his mouth opening, but no words came out.
Then Marcus moved.
He walked past Rhys without a glance, his steps slow and heavy, and stopped directly in front of me. The venue staff suddenly found reasons to be busy on the far side of the room.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t accuse. He just looked at me, and the quiet, profound hurt in his gaze was a blade twisting in my gut. He was a good man, a kind man who deserved none of this. He was Rhys’s best friend, the man whose trust we had both so spectacularly betrayed.
He gently put a hand under my elbow, guiding me a few steps away into an alcove, away from the prying eyes. His touch wasn’t angry, which somehow made it worse.
“Ava,” he said, his voice raspy, broken. He swallowed hard, staring at a point on the wall just over my shoulder. “All night, Rhys was… off. Distant. And you… you’ve been avoiding my calls. I thought you were just busy. Stressed. ”
He finally forced himself to look at me, and his eyes were swimming with a pain that mirrored my own. I saw confusion, betrayal, and a deep, soul-crushing sadness. He was seeing the woman he’d kissed outside the restaurant, the woman he’d been trying to win back.
He drew a shaky breath, and when he spoke, his question was simple, soft, and utterly devastating. It cut through all the noise, all the anger, all the professional and financial ruin, and went straight for the heart of me.
“Are you in love with my best man?”
The world tilted on its axis. The air rushed from my lungs. There was no room for lies, no space for deflection. The question hung between us, demanding a truth I wasn’t ready to face, a truth that would cement the destruction I had caused.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. No answer could fix this. A yes would shatter him. A no would be the biggest lie I’d ever told.
So I just stood there, trapped and exposed in the wreckage of my own making, the silence my only, terrible answer.