Then she leaned closer, dropping her voice.
“You know,” she added quietly, “men tend to wander when women stop trying.”
She straightened and flashed Jason a smug smile.
I smiled right back.
Because she had no idea what was coming.
About half an hour later, guests were eating, drinking, and praising the food.
“This is incredible,” one of Jason’s coworkers said. “You really went all out.”
Jason raised his beer. “Yeah, we love hosting. She’s great at this kind of thing.”
Every few minutes, his voice rang out across the room:
“Babe, can you grab more napkins?”
“Babe, the chips are running low.”
“Babe, we’re almost out of dip.”
Maria and her coworker handled everything smoothly while I stayed seated, watching it unfold.
Then the doorbell rang.
Without even looking my way, Jason snapped his fingers. “Can you get that?”
I didn’t move.
“Not this time,” I said pleasantly. “You should answer it. I’ve got a surprise for you. You’ll want to see this.”
He frowned. “What kind of surprise?”
“Just open the door.”
With an annoyed sigh, he walked over and pulled it open.
His expression shifted instantly.
Standing there were three people:
a man in a suit holding a folder, the manager from the cleaning company, and Maria—no longer in the kitchen.
The room fell silent, like the sound had been dialed down.
The man in the suit spoke first.
“Are you Jason?”
“Yes,” Jason said cautiously. “Why?”
“I’m here to serve you legal documents,” the man replied, handing over the folder.
Jason opened it, his eyes scanning quickly before snapping toward me.
“Divorce?” he shouted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Before he could react, the cleaning manager stepped forward with a clipboard.
“This is our invoice for the deep cleaning,” she said evenly. “Payment has already been made. Your wife paid it herself.”
Then Maria raised a second folder.
“And here’s the catering receipt,” she said clearly. “Your wife covered the full cost, since she was medically unable to cook with her arm in a cast.”
Medically unable.
The words echoed through the room.
Heads turned—from Jason, to me, then back again.
Linda’s face drained of color.
Jason charged toward me, waving the papers.
“You can’t do this!” he yelled. “Not today. Not on my birthday!”
I stood up slowly.
“This was the only way you were ever going to hear me,” I said.
