I looked back to this woman I’d mistreated, been mistreated by. “I’m sorry, Portia.”

She gave a wan little smile. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Are you good, though?” I asked quietly.

“In general I am,” she said. “It’s been up and down. For the first few months after the divorce I was a bit on the wild side. Spending money frivolously, seeing men left and right.”

Nothing. I felt nothing when she said this.

“Recently I was seeing someone more seriously.” She toyed with the small charm on her napkin ring. “I suppose that’s what had me panicking these past few days. It’s hard to be with someone different, the fear of repeating past mistakes. We were together so long, Niall, that it felt wrong in a way to go off with someone else, like I was betraying you.”

I looked up at her. I’d personally never felt the sense of betrayal, but I understood what she’d said about it being hard to be with someone new. To be afraid. To figure out their rhythms and needs. To worry constantly about failure.

“He’s someone I knew from before.” She hesitated. “From work.”

Something clicked in my thoughts. “Stephen?” I guessed.

Portia sounded guilty when she admitted, “That’s him. Stephen.”

I caught the way he would watch her. It struck me only then how apathetic I’d been at the work functions, business dinners, and in the office when I’d stop by to drop off lunch or something she’d forgotten at home. Stephen couldn’t help but glance at Portia every few seconds, at least when I was near.

If someone regarded Ruby the way Stephen had looked at Portia, I would turn homicidal.

My thoughts tripped, blood running hot: Tony looked at her that way.

“Nothing happened before,” she said. “I promise, Niall.”

“I believe you. And I’m not surprised, Porsh. I saw the way he looked at you.”

She laughed. “Yes. Like that one girl at your office, when I dropped off the papers to sign. She had hearts in her eyes, watching you.”

I felt something inside me squeeze tightly. Christ. Even Portia had seen it.

“Ruby?” I asked, and saying her name sent a heated spike through my chest.

“She’s tall, beautiful. American?”

I needed a drink. Nodding, I lifted my wineglass to my lips and said, “That’s her.”

Portia’s eyes widened in comprehension. “She’s the one you’ve been with?” She paused. “The one you love?”

Again, I nodded, not even a hint of doubt lingering.

“She’s wanted you for ages and you were finally together?” Portia sounded like a schoolgirl. And it was a testament to our distance that she’d invited me here to discuss taking her back and had so easily let the idea fall away. “Niall, it’s so romantic.”

“Like you and Stephen?”

“Well, I’m not sure if we’re a thing anymore, but it is what it is.” She leaned forward, tilting her head as she asked, “Tell me what happened?”

And like this, with my head in my hands and pulse thudding anxiously in my throat, I confessed the entire affair to Portia.

I told her about New York, Tony’s not being able to come and Ruby coming in his place. I told her about Ruby’s feelings for months before I was aware, her beauty, her humor, and how she put me at ease so immediately. I told her about my fears, my longing, my hesitation. And, although I likely didn’t need to, I told her how I knew she needed more from me—more communication, more intimacy—and I sincerely tried to do it right.

“And then I came here for dinner,” I admitted. “I couldn’t tell her it was nothing without feeling like I was lying—because I did intend to hear you out, Portia—but I didn’t want her to think that I was coming back to you, either. She looked shattered.” I groaned, remembering her vacant expression, the way she’d absently wandered from the room and out of the building entirely. “I’ve made a terrible mess of this.”

“Niall,” she said, voice soothing. “You know you’ve got to fix it.”

I nodded, feeling sick. I didn’t know if it was that easy. I’d messed up, enormously.

She paused. “I love you, you know?”

Her voice held a rare poignancy. She’d said this only a handful of times during our marriage and here, the words spilled out so much more readily.

Smiling up at her, I said, “Love you, too, Porsh.”