“What the—” I take a step back.

“Wait.” Adam stands up quickly. “Please wait. I can explain.”

“Yeah, I figured you could.” I take out my phone and text message my sister one word: TRAITOR, before setting it away again. “What the hell, Adam?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He runs his fingers through his dirty-blond hair. It’s longer now than it was. He looks like a hot surfer from California or something, not the IT god that he is, and despite myself, my heart skips a beat. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and I didn’t know how else to reach you.”

“Don’t you think I’ve been ignoring your calls for a reason?”

“Can you just . . . can we sit? For a minute? Let’s have a meal together, coffee, whatever.” He searches my eyes quickly. “Please?”

“Fine.” I sigh heavily and slide into the booth beside us. He does the same, sitting across from me, even though this is a semicircle.

“Thank you.”

“Yep.” I pick up the menu and scan it even though I know what I’m getting.

“You don’t get Nutella waffles anymore?” Adam asks.

I glance at him over the menu. “Maybe I like to switch it up.”

“Since when?”

Since never, that’s the real answer. I’m a creature of habit and he knows it, but still, what if I did want to switch it up? I roll my eyes and set the menu down.

“What do you want, Adam?”

“I want you to be my date to the gala.”

I blink. “You’re joking.”

“We always go together.”

“We didn’t go together last year.” I raise an eyebrow.

“You didn’t go at all last year.” He cocks his head. “Come on, Van.”

“No. Dude, we are divorced.”

“I am well aware.” He buries his face in his hands and rubs his face twice as if it’ll change anything. When he looks at me again, those piercing blue eyes hold me hostage. “The divorce was a mistake.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You were the one who initiated the process. You were the one who wanted out. You were—”

“I never wanted out. I wanted to give you an out and you took it.”

“Well, yeah, I didn’t want to stay married to someone who didn’t want to be married to me.” My voice cracks as I say the words, my eyes fill with unwanted tears. I really thought I was past the emotional state when it came to this, but apparently I was wrong. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, I do.”

“You could’ve said all of this before we signed the papers. Before we hired lawyers. Before we—”

“I paid for your lawyer.”

“I know.” I roll my eyes. “That’s not the point.”