I Was Seated Alone at My Son’s Wedding — Then a Stranger Said ‘Act Like You’re With Me’

She didn’t answer,

which was answer enough.

The rest of the dinner passed in carefully polite conversation, but the real negotiation continued beneath the surface.

By the time dessert arrived, the terms were clear.

Treat Elellanar with respect, and Theodore might consider reasonable lease arrangements for Ashworth Properties.

As we prepared to leave, Viven caught my arm.

“Eleanor, I hope we can start fresh.”

“Perhaps you’d like to join us for Sunday dinner this week.”

6 months ago, an invitation to Sunday dinner would have thrilled me.

Tonight, it felt like another chess move in a game I was finally learning to play.

“I’ll check my calendar,” I said pleasantly.

“Theo and I have quite a few plans to make.”

The look of panic that flashed across her face was worth every moment of yesterday’s humiliation.

Sunday afternoon found me in Theo’s penthouse apartment, which occupied the top two floors of one of downtown Denver’s most exclusive buildings.

Floor toseeiling windows offered a panoramic view of the mountains, and the decor was elegant without being ostentatious.

This was clearly the home of someone who had money, but didn’t need to prove it to anyone.

“Coffee?”

Theo offered, leading me to a sitting area that probably cost more than most people’s cars.

“Please.”

I settled into a leather chair that felt like being embraced by luxury.

“This is beautiful, Theo.”

“Very you somehow.”

“You remember what I’m like after 50 years.”

“Some things don’t change.”

“You always had exquisite taste, even when we were young and broke.”

I accepted the coffee gratefully, though I have to admit, seeing you now, it’s hard to imagine you were ever broke.

Theo’s laugh was rofal.

“Trust me, there were plenty of years when I wondered if I’d made the right choices.”

“Building a business empire is lonely work, Eleanor, especially when the person you most wanted to share it with was living a completely different life.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of lost years settling between us.

Finally, I spoke the question that had been nagging at me since yesterday.

“Theo, why didn’t you ever try to contact me after you found out I was married?”

“You could have at least let me know you’d been looking.”

His expression grew pained.

“I thought about it.”

“God knows I thought about it constantly.”

“But you seemed happy in the photos I saw.”

“You had a husband, a child, a life.”

“What right did I have to disrupt that with news that my love letters had been intercepted?”