What was even more infuriating was that Celeste wasn't wrong.
Ethan hadn't told Riley. He had assumed it wasn't necessary. Celeste had always been an afterthought—someone temporary, someone replaceable.
So why did it suddenly feel like she was the one discarding him?
"What's the matter?" Celeste asked innocently, the picture of amusement. "Didn't Ethan tell you?"
Riley swallowed hard, shifting in her seat. She didn't need to answer. Her face said it all—she was lost, frustrated, and—if Celeste wasn't mistaken—just a little bit jealous.
Celeste chuckled. A low, knowing sound that sent a flicker of irritation through Ethan.
"Oh, don't worry about that little detail, dear," she purred. "What we had was never serious, so there's nothing to be concerned about."
"Enough."
Ethan's voice cut through the room, sharp and final.