Page 19 of Mile High Ex's Dad
Because he enjoys this. Because he always did. Because some men are only fully themselves when they’ve found someone they think they can safely diminish.
“You always had that same look,” he says softly. “Like you’re one bounced payment away from begging someone to save you.” He leans in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “You still reek of desperation, Sienna.”
For one instant, my vision goes bright around the edges.
Then I breathe in once and lock everything down. Ignore him.
I need the money.
I need the weekend to end.
I need him to become irrelevant.
“I have work to do,” I say.
He smiles like I’ve proved something for him, then lifts his glass in mock salute and moves on.
I don’t let myself look after him. I turn toward the dining room just as the bridal party begins to gather near the doors for the call to dinner. Everyone is glossy and loud and already half-drunk on expensive alcohol and their own importance. Camille is laughing at something one of her bridesmaids says. Ethan joins them. His mother positions herself close enough to be seen and far enough not to wrinkle.
Guests start drifting toward their seats, and a server approaches me with visible relief. “We’re ready when you are.”
I nod. “Let’s start the seating.”
The first five minutes go smoothly.
Too smoothly, probably.
People find their places. Chairs slide back. Wine is poured. The candlelight settles into something rich and flattering. From the outside, it must look effortless.
Then I see the problem. At the center of the U-shaped family arrangement, there are two place cards for the same seat and no place card at all for Camille’s grandmother.
My stomach drops.
Not because it’s catastrophic. It isn’t. These things happen. Place cards get moved. Staff set one version instead of another. In any normal room, I could fix it in thirty seconds and no one would care.
This is not a normal room.
I step in at once, reaching for the extra card before anyone notices.
Too late.
Camille is already there.
She stops at the table and stares. “What is this?”
Her voice isn’t loud, but it cuts. Conversation near the head table falters.
I move closer, keeping my own voice low. “There’s been a card mix-up. Give me one moment.”
“One moment?” Camille repeats, looking from the duplicate place cards to the empty setting beside them. “My grandmother doesn’t have a seat.”
“She has a seat,” I say calmly. “The setting is here. The card was misplaced. I’m fixing it now.”
Ethan steps up beside her, glancing at the table, then at me. And of course, instead of saying nothing like a decent man, he smiles. “Seems your replacement planner isn’t quite keeping up.”
A few people nearby hear it. I feel it happen. That tiny shift in the room when attention turns and the possibility of humiliation opens like a flower.
Camille gives a disbelieving little laugh. “Unbelievable.”
