“It’s not my home,” Finley said, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to her like it was automatic. “Besides, it’s your birthday. I should spend it with you.” 

Claire took the jacket without a word, the sharp, cloying scent of perfume hitting her instantly. She placed it on the couch, keeping some distance between them. 

“When’s your next prenatal appointment?” Finley asked, stepping closer. His hand settled on her stomach, heavy and unwelcome. “Baby, do you miss Daddy? Next time, Daddy will go with Mommy to the appointment. We’ll see you. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Claire froze, staring at his bright smile, feeling nothing but cold. Exciting? Was he serious? There wasn’t even a baby left to see, thanks to him. 

“Next Monday. Will you be free?” 

“I will,” he promised, sliding his arms around her from behind. “I’m sorry, Claire. I know I’ve been distant, but it’s not what you think. Renee and I are just friends. You’re so jealous sometimes. Like the other day—you embarrassed me in front of my friends, didn’t you?” 

Her back stiffened, and she stayed quiet. 

Three years of marriage, and he’d had the audacity to propose to Renee in front of everyone. How was she supposed to feel? 

Sensing her silence, Finley switched tactics. “How about this? It’s your birthday. Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you. Deal?” 

She didn’t answer immediately, memories of an old promise creeping back. He’d once said he’d take her to the Maldives to see the ocean—a promise never kept. 

“I want to go to the Maldives,” she said. “You promised me.” 

Finley frowned. “That’s too far. It’d take forever to plan. How about somewhere closer? I’ll book a cute B&B. We’ll be back by Monday.” 

“I was kidding,” Claire said with a faint smile. She wasn’t surprised. Renee always came first. 

Later, Finley booked a fancy restaurant for dinner. Claire didn’t want to go but figured, why not? It’d probably be their last meal together. 

At the table, Finley handed her the menu with a smile that looked genuine if you didn’t know better. “Order whatever you like.” 

Before she could even scan it, he rattled off suggestions. “Let’s do the herb-crusted lamb, escargot, foie gras… oh, and a bottle of red.” 

Claire frowned. None of those were things she liked. Did he even know her anymore? Maybe he never did. 

To top it off, Finley didn’t even eat lamb. 

Before she could call him out, Renee showed up, sliding into a chair. She whipped off her mask, all smiles. 

“Claire! Happy birthday! I was filming nearby and skipped lunch. Finley didn’t want me to starve, so he invited me. You don’t mind, right?” 

Claire’s lips parted, but before she could get a word out, the waiter appeared, serving plates. 

Renee lit up. “Wow, all my favorite foods! I’m starving. Hope you don’t mind if I dive in!” 

She didn’t wait for permission, grabbing a fork and tearing into the meal with zero hesitation. 

Finley watched her, his face softening. “Of course, they’re all your favorites. I ordered them just for you. Take your time.” 

“Thanks, Finley! You’re the best!” Renee beamed, then threw in, “Love you!” 

A second later, she backtracked, glancing at Claire with a quick, practiced laugh. “Oops! Sorry, Claire. Habit. I say it to my fans all the time. You’re cool with it, right?”