The Wife he threw Away (Claire and Lucian) novel Chapter 285

Dinner turned out better than I expected— much better.

By the time the first course was served, the terrace had completely transformed beneath the soft glow of the lights.

The conversation now flowed easily.

For once, nobody was talking about the trial or the last several months that were tainted by scandals and rumors.

Nobody was asking about Hart Sullivan or even mentioning Eva. And nobody was discussing whether Lucian would survive the next board meeting.

It was simply a birthday dinner.

A normal evening— something we hadn’t had in far too long.

I sat beside Lucian, listening as Director Whitmore told an embarrassing story about one of Lucian’s first attempts at giving a speech to the board.

“You’re not being completely honest,” Lucian said.

The old director almost looked offended. “I would never lie about something that memorable.”

“You’re describing a completely different person.”

“You were eighteen.”

“I was sixteen.”

Director Whitmore pointed at him. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Everyone laughed.

Even Lucian.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

I’d forgotten what it felt like to see him this relaxed.

The past few months had been hospital rooms, courtrooms, police stations and whispered conversations about whether any of us would make it through the trial without something else going terribly wrong.

Tonight felt like a pause.

A breath.

A reminder that our lives were supposed to contain moments like this too.

At some point, Camilla brought out the wine.

The bottle was placed directly in front of Lucian.

He looked at the label.

Then at me.

“You remembered.”

I smiled.

“Of course.”

His mother’s favorite.

He opened it himself.

The first glass was poured for him, then for me.

I lifted mine.

“To another year.”

Lucian’s eyes remained on me.

“To another year,” he repeated.

We clinked glasses.

I took a small sip.

The wine was smooth.

Familiar.

For some reason, it reminded me of our honeymoon.

Wine country.

That little vineyard we’d visited after spending an entire afternoon pretending we knew anything about wine.

I smiled at the memory.

Lucian noticed.

“What?”

“This tastes like our our date in Italy.”

His eyebrows rose.

“You remember that?”

“Of course.”

“You complained about the wine.”

“I did not.”

“You said it tasted like expensive grape juice.”

I laughed.

“It did.”

“You also told the owner that you preferred the cheaper bottle.”

“Because I did.”

“You nearly destroyed that man’s soul.”

I laughed harder.

“He was trying so hard to impress you.”

“He was trying to sell me a case.”

“Same thing.”

Lucian shook his head.

“He kept talking about the vintage.”

“You kept pretending to understand him.”

“I understood him.”

“You didn’t know what half the words meant.”

He leaned closer.

“I knew enough.”

I smiled.

“You were terrible.”

“And yet you married me.”

The words came out casually.

But something about them made my smile falter for half a second.

Married.

Past tense.

I looked at him.

He was still smiling.

Then his expression softened.

“Maybe we should fix that.”

I blinked.

“What?”

He lifted his glass.

“Nothing.”

“Lucian.”

He shrugged.

“I could propose right now.”

I stared at him.

Then laughed.

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

“We’ve barely gotten back together.”

“So?”

“So people would think we’ve lost our minds.”

He smiled.

“They already think that.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

His voice was quieter now.

But before I could answer, Daniel interrupted from across the table.

“If you two are going to propose again, at least wait until after dessert.”

Lucian looked at him.

“Were you listening?”

“I have ears.”

“You’re irritating.”

“And yet you invited me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Everyone laughed again.

I joined them.

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