He pointed at Reuben, his finger shaking with rage. “So when you call her ‘used goods,’ or imply she’s less than you… you are insulting the woman who saved my life. You are insulting the strongest, most decent person in this room.”
Tessa stood up, knocking her chair back. “Are you saying you have feelings for her? Is that what this is?”
Dylan looked at her with a look of pure exhaustion. “I’m saying I admire her. I respect her. And I realized tonight that I cannot marry into a family that treats kindness like a weakness. I can’t marry someone who thinks cruelty is funny.”
He reached into his pocket. He pulled out the ring—a platinum band with a diamond that caught the dim light. He placed it gently on the tablecloth next to the untouched centerpiece.
“I’m done,” Dylan said.
The silence was absolute. It was the sound of a world shattering.
Dylan turned to me. He offered me his hand. “You don’t belong here, Sariah. You never did. You’re too good for them.”
I looked at his hand. Then I looked at the table—at Tessa’s furious, tear-streaked face, at Reuben’s stunned silence, at my mother’s shame.
I stood up. My legs were shaking, but my spine was steel.
I didn’t take Dylan’s hand—I didn’t need to be led. But I nodded to him. A silent acknowledgment of the grenade he had just thrown on my behalf.
“I think we’re going to head out,” I said. My voice was clear. It didn’t tremble.
I walked over to the corner table. Milo looked up from his drawing, a little rocket ship blasting off toward a jagged yellow sun.
“Did you have fun, Mama?” he asked.
“I did, baby,” I said, picking him up. He felt heavy and solid and real. “But we’re going home now.”
