“Nico,” Mom went on when I failed to say a word. “We were just talking about you yesterday. How are you?”

“Is that right?” he asked smoothly, never taking his eyes from mine. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

“You know what?” she said as she jumped from her chair. “I have to run to the little girl’s room. Nico, have a seat so you two can catch up.” She motioned him to sit before disappearing around the corner, all before I could make a single protest.

My eyes bounced back and forth between Nico and my mother’s treacherous departure.

She wouldn’t have—couldn’t have. Could she?

It was all too convenient, and as much as I didn’t want to believe it, it was rather obvious.

I’d been set up.

You have to be fucking kidding me.

Here I was, thinking of having a rare bonding moment with my mother, and she was busy stabbing me in the back. I knew she’d invited him to the party, but I never dreamed she would throw me to the wolves so entirely.

I wasn’t ready. I had known it was a possibility I’d see him at the party, but I thought I was going to have time to prepare for that—plan what I’d say and practice keeping my composure. Instead, my mother had taken the rug right out from under me, sending me flailing to my ass like an idiot.

Aside from shock, I couldn’t even pinpoint how I felt about seeing him. All my emotions collided and canceled each other out until nothing but shock and numbness remained, which was one small grace. It helped me pull myself together and pretend I wasn’t falling apart inside.

“You’ll have to excuse my rudeness. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” I clasped my hands tightly in my lap, attempting not to fidget, my eyes cast anywhere but at him.

“It’s good to see you, Ladybug,” he offered casually as if it had been days and not years since we’d seen one another.

His voice had matured and was now a gravelly rumble that filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies taking flight, but I hardly noticed. I was too focused on the fiery rage that heated me from the inside out. He had no right to use that name after everything he’d done. After all those years. Hot, angry tears burned at the back of my throat.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” I hissed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want any part of it.” I threw my napkin onto the table, but before I could stand, his hand came down on mine.

“Easy, Sofia,” he soothed in a calm tone. “I’m not here to upset you.”

“What other reason could you possibly have?” I scoured his features over the flickering votive candle, trying to decipher what was going on, but came up empty.

“Maybe I missed you.” His words were sweet and almost sounded earnest, which was why they made me laugh.