He pulled out her chair, fetched her drinks, and even adjusted the strap of her dress when it slipped, his hand brushing her shoulder with a familiar ease.

I had never received any of that.

In the two years I was with Vincent, he had never done those things for me. I thought it was just his personality—cool and reserved, above such trivial gestures of affection.

I was wrong.

He just wasn’t willing to do them for me.

I nursed my champagne, listening to Isabella laugh and chat with other guests. She spoke of her recovery in Europe, of how much she missed New York. Every word was graceful and proper.

“Isabella is such a lovely girl,” a woman next to me whispered to her friend. “The way Vincent looks after her, they’re sure to end up together.”

My hand tightened around the stem of my glass.

“Alright, everyone, let’s play a game!” the host announced, livening up the room. “Truth or Choice!”

The big screen lit up as the host explained the rules. “Two pictures will appear on the screen. Everyone votes for their favorite, but Vincent, as our guest of honor, you’ll make the final choice for everyone!”

“Switzerland. Isabella needs fresh air for her recovery.”

Every choice Vincent made was for Isabella.

I watched him on stage and thought about our two years together. He had never asked what I liked, never remembered my favorite food or where I dreamed of going.

“Last round!” the host said excitedly. “This one’s a little special. It’s photos of two beautiful women!”

Two pictures appeared on the screen.