“Good evening.” I swing my legs out of the car at the same time to avoid flashing him as I get out. Once I’m on my feet, I adjust my dress. The cabernet-colored tulle material with sequins glitters, and while the corset bodice is stretchy, the dress is also short and tight, so there isn’t much adjusting I can do.

As the kid closes the door behind me, I press my clutch against my stomach, which is swarming with anxiety, and walk up the steps to the open door of the house, where I can see dozens of people inside. You’d think after attending parties like this my whole life that I would be used to them, but I’m not. Crowds and people make me uncomfortable, especially these people, with their fake smiles and even faker personalities, each a copy-and-paste of the man or woman next to them.

Stepping over the threshold into the house, I scan the open foyer for my mother, but she’s nowhere in sight, which is a surprise. Normally, she’s at the door greeting people as they arrive.

“Champagne?” a young woman in a crisp white dress shirt and bowtie asks, holding a silver tray out toward me.

“Please.” I take one of the flutes and down the cold liquid in one gulp, watching her eyes widen.

“Thank you.” I place the glass down on her tray and pick up another. If I’m going to make it through tonight, I’m going to need to be tipsy, which is why I didn’t drive myself.

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Her smile is wonky.

Smiling back, I take the full glass with me and move through the crowd, avoiding eye contact by keeping my head lowered and my eyes on my feet. The only thing that sucks is I can still hear the whispers as I pass people.

This is the first event I’ve attended since Matthew and I separated, and I’m sure most of the people here now know we are divorced and they’re coming up with their own versions of why that happened.

He cheated? I cheated? We couldn’t have kids? He worked too much? I was too focused on my business?

None of it’s true—well… not most of it anyway.

Walking around the corner into the living room—which is more of a showroom since no one uses it unless there’s a party—I stumble back after running headfirst into someone coming around it from the opposite side. Their huge body almost knocks me off my feet and hits my hand just right so that my cold champagne splashes across my chest and down the front of my dress, making me gasp.