I felt a flash of anger, but I forced myself to remain calm.

“If you’ll excuse me, James, I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t be like that, Victoria,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm. “I sent you a text. We had a bad start. I think we should talk.”

I pulled my arm back, my skin crawling at his touch.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Actually, she has plenty to talk about,” a new voice interrupted. “Just not with you.”

My stomach dropped.

Mark stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tuxedo.

He looked exactly the same as the day he packed his bags and left our apartment.

His hair was perfectly styled, and his smile was as charming as it was hollow.

“Mark,” I whispered.

“Hey, Vic,” he said, ignoring James entirely. “You look good. Red was always your color, but green suits you too.”

James frowned, looking between the two of us.

“And who are you?” James asked, his tone instantly defensive.

“I’m her husband,” Mark said, stepping forward.