By the time his company party arrived, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to dress for something besides groceries or a pediatrician appointment.

I chose a fitted dark green dress I’d bought a few weeks earlier—not because Ryan liked the color or because it made me look thinner.

Because I liked it.

Ryan stared when I came downstairs.

“Wow.”

I smiled. “Good wow?”

“Definitely.”

At the party, reactions came almost immediately.

One of his coworkers blinked at me, then laughed.

“Ryan, your wife looks incredible!”

Ryan’s face lit up.

“I know, right?”

Something about the way he said it irritated me.

As if he’d trained me for this.

As if my body had been a project he’d supervised.

He kept one hand around my waist most of the evening and introduced me with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen in months.

“This is Claire.”