“How could you do this?” Mark shouted.
The entire dining room fell silent.
Not the uncomfortable silence people make when they don’t know what to say.
Not the polite silence of guests trying to avoid getting involved.
This was the kind of silence that settles over a room when everyone realizes they are watching a marriage split open right in front of them.
Mark stood at the head of the table, his face burning red, one hand wrapped tightly around the back of his chair.
Claire was still sitting beside him.
In the seat that had been mine.
Her wineglass hovered halfway between the table and her mouth.
Beside every dessert plate was a small ivory envelope.
One for every guest.
One for Mark.
