Diane explained that Gavin had spent four years forging my signature to borrow against my late grandmother’s trust, moving the money through a shell company he called a consulting firm. The loan was due that very week, and he had planned to disappear with the woman beside him before anyone noticed. The ring in the black box had been bought with my own money. The restaurant stayed silent while she laid out the bank records, one page after another.

The woman, whose name was Savannah, sank into the booth and began to cry. She told the officers she believed Gavin was divorced, and that he had promised her a house in Florida. She handed over her phone with messages proving it. I looked at her and felt no hatred, only a tired sort of pity. She was twenty-six, scared, and carrying his child, and she had been lied to as completely as I had.

Nolan finally explained himself. He was an investigator working for the bank’s fraud department, and he had followed Gavin for months. He had waited until the officers arrived because he needed Gavin seen with the stolen funds. He apologized for letting me watch the kiss, but said the arrest would not have held without it. I told him I understood, though my hands were still shaking around the stem of my wine glass.

Gavin was charged that night and later pleaded guilty to fraud and forgery. The court voided the loan, and my grandmother’s trust was restored almost entirely. I finalized the divorce within the year and sold the apartment. Savannah wrote me a letter months later, and I answered kindly. On my next anniversary, I ate dinner alone at the same restaurant, and the salmon was warm.