“Adam,” I replied calmly.
He glanced behind me, then back at my face. “I—I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“That was your choice,” I said.
His eyes filled with something like regret. “I made a mistake.”
I almost laughed.
Before I could respond, a woman approached, holding a stack of papers.
“Adam,” she snapped. “Did you sign these yet? We’re already late.”
She noticed me, frowned. “Who’s this?”
He hesitated.
“My ex-wife.”
Her expression shifted—recognition dawning, then discomfort.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
That’s when three voices called out from the end of the aisle.
