I had kept a bottle from her birth year, and she had one from mine. I had a sense that if we didn't use it now, we'd never have the chance to share it again.
But as soon as I entered the private room, I froze.
Kate was seated next to Vincent.
She greeted me warmly and pulled me to sit down, but I couldn't muster a smile.
Vincent, ever the polite host, poured me a drink, but I felt like I might be sick.
Kate exchanged a look with Vincent, their shared smile making me feel like an outsider, as if I should be hiding under the table.
Then, just like in old times, she used her sweet voice to coax me.
Kate said, her tone sugary and smooth, "We talked it over. The person in the photo looks a lot like you. How about we clarify that it's actually you?"
She spoke softly and sweetly, but all I heard was "we."
I thought, "Kate, there was a time when 'we' meant you and me.
I want to ask her, you're so afraid Vincent won't make it at the Moore Group, but do you worry about your loyal fans turning on me?"
I suddenly found myself smiling.
I saw the shock on her face, and a hidden satisfaction rose in me, though it was overshadowed by a deep, painful sting.