Jax picked me up at eight. He drove us to a small Italian place tucked between a dry cleaner and a bookstore. It wasn't fancy, but it was real. Red checkered tablecloths, candles in old wine bottles, the smell of garlic and tomatoes.
We ordered wine and pasta. For a while, it was easy. We talked about his job site, the ego of glass houses. I told him about the dog groomer logo I was designing.
Then, over tiramisu, he looked at me. His eyes were soft but serious.
"Tell me about him," he said."Tell me about Ben. The real story."
I took a sip of wine. The warm, safe bubble of the restaurant seemed to shrink. This was it. The story I'd been carrying.
"He cheated on me," I said. My voice was quiet but clear. "With a junior analyst at his firm. Her name was Clara. I found the texts on his phone. They were planning a weekend trip. The messages were... detailed."
"Jax just listened".
"When I confronted him, he didn't deny it. He just got angry. He said I was too much. That my expectations were a cage. He said I was suffocating him with my need for... for basic honesty." I let out a shaky breath. "He called me unstable. Said my reaction proved it. He took my grandmother's locket from my jewelry box and said I didn't deserve nice things if I was going to be so dramatic. He never gave it back."
I looked down at my hands. "So I left. And he kept the locket. Because he knew it would hurt. Because he's a selfish asshole who needs to win, even when he's the one who set the house on fire."
There was a long silence. The murmur of other diners filled the space.
Then Jax reached across the table. He covered my hand with his. His palm was warm, rough.
"You're not unstable," he said. His voice was low, final. "You're a woman who expected decency from a boy who didn't have any. There's a difference."
His words were simple. An anchor in the storm of that old memory.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He nodded. "Now he's telling people you're crazy. He's laying groundwork. In case he needs it."
"In case he finds out about you," I said.
"Maybe." Jax leaned back, but his eyes stayed on mine. "But we're not a secret to be weaponized. We're real. He doesn't get to define us."
The check came. He paid. We walked out into the cool night air.
He drove me home. At my door, he pulled me into a hug, his arms solid around me, his chin resting on my head.
"I'm falling hard for you, Ella," he said into my hair.
"I looked up at him and smiled"
He kissed my forehead and left.
The next day was my mom's birthday dinner. I spent the morning sketching and trying not to think about Ben's words, both old and potential. I wore a simple blue dress. I didn't invite Jax. It felt too soon for family, too much pressure.
The restaurant was one of my mom's favorites, all white tablecloths and soft piano music. My sister Lisa was already there with her husband, Mark. My mom waved from the table, her face lighting up.
We ordered. We made small talk about work, about Lisa's recent promotion. It was normal. Nice.
Then, as the main courses were cleared, my mom patted my hand.
"So, Ella, any special someone on the scene? You seem... happier."
I felt my cheeks warm. "Maybe. It's new."
Lisa perked up. "Oh? Who is he? What does he do?"
Before I could answer, a smooth, familiar voice cut through the air behind me.
"Lisa! Mrs. Evans! What a nice surprise."
My blood turned to ice. I knew that voice. I slowly turned in my chair.
Ben stood there, smiling his perfect, charming smile. He had a woman on his arm tall, blonde, dressed in expensive beige. Clara, I realized. The analyst.
He wasn't alone. His parents were with him, beaming. They had always loved me.
"Ben!" my mother said, her voice a mix of surprise and polite warmth. "Happy birthday, Mrs. Evans," Ben said, his gaze sliding over to me. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes were cold shards. "Ella. You look well."
The entire table froze. Lisa's eyes went wide. Mark looked down at his plate.
"Ben," I managed, my voice strangled.
"This is Clara," Ben said, pulling the blonde forward. "My fiancée."
The word hit me like a physical blow. Fiancée. He was engaged. To the woman he cheated with.
Clara smiled, a tight, triumphant little thing. "It's so nice to meet you all. Ben has told me so much about you."
I could feel my family's pity and confusion like a wave. My mom's happy birthday dinner was now a battlefield.
"Congratulations," my mother said, her voice strained but kind.
"Thank you," Ben said, his eyes locking with mine. They held a warning, a glint of malicious satisfaction. Look what I have. Look where you are.
He had won. And he had made sure to have his victory parade right in front of me and my family.
"Enjoy your dinner," Ben said, as if dismissing us. He guided his party to a table across the room.
The silence at our table was deafening.
My mom reached for my hand under the table. "Ella, honey..."
"I'm fine," I lied, my voice trembling. "I just need some air."
I stood up, my legs unsteady, and walked toward the restroom. I could feel Ben's gaze on my back the entire way.
In the cool, tiled silence of the bathroom, I braced my hands on the sink and took deep breaths. The humiliation was a live wire under my skin. He had orchestrated this. He had known.
My phone buzzed in my clutch.
Jax: How's the family dinner?
I stared at the screen. My safe place. My real thing.
Tears of anger and shame blurred my vision. I typed back, my fingers shaking.
Me: Ben is here. With his fiancée. At my mom's birthday dinner.
The three dots appeared immediately. Then his call came through.
"Where are you?" His voice was a sharp, protective growl.
"In the bathroom."
"Stay there. I'm coming."
"You don't have to....."
"Ella." His voice cut through my protest. "I'm coming. Give me the address."
I gave it to him, a sob of relief catching in my throat.
"Ten minutes," he said. "Don't go back out there alone."
He hung up. I splashed water on my face, reapplied my lipstick with a steadying hand. I wasn't alone.
When I walked back to the table, Ben was watching from across the room. His smile was gone. He looked curious, then suspicious.
Ten minutes later, the restaurant's door opened.
Jax walked in.
He was still in his work clothes dark jeans, a grey henley stretched across his shoulders, a hint of sawdust clinging to his boots. He looked utterly out of place in the pristine restaurant, and utterly formidable.
He scanned the room, his stormy eyes finding me instantly. He didn't look at Ben. He walked straight to our table.
Every head turned. My mom looked shocked. Lisa looked intrigued.
"Hi," Jax said, his voice calm. He nodded to my family. "I'm Jax. Sorry to interrupt."
He pulled an empty chair from a nearby table and sat down beside me.Without asking. Just stating. His presence was a solid wall between me and the rest of the room.
He took my hand under the table and laced his fingers through mine.
Ben was staring, his face a mask of cold fury. He had been exposed. His little show had an uninvited, better guest.
Jax leaned close to my ear, his breath warm. "You okay?"
I looked from Ben's furious face to Jax's steady one. From my past to my future.
I squeezed his hand.
"I am now."