The Fiancée He Forgot Chapter 01
The day we went to Disney, I stepped away from the line for less than five minutes to take a phone call.
By the time I came back, my boyfriend Ethan and my best friend Claire were already deep in conversation—in French.
I walked up beside him, caught a few words I couldn’t understand, and was about to ask what they were talking about.
Ethan raised a hand to cut me off. “Grace, hold on. Claire’s saying something important.”
“Can you stop interrupting us all the time?”
Something in me deflated.
Claire was fluent in French, German, and Italian. Ethan also spoke Russian and Japanese.
They’d grown up together, and whenever they got together, they never ran out of things to say.
The only problem was that most of what they said was in languages I didn’t understand, about things I knew nothing about.
I had no way to join in.
At first I’d gotten upset, protested even. But two days had gone by, and nothing had changed.
Watching the two of them so absorbed in each other that they didn’t even notice I’d fallen behind, I suddenly felt tired.
…
I didn’t try to catch up. Instead, I found an outdoor café and sat down.
The truth is, I don’t like coffee.
That burnt, bitter smell always brought me back to the old house in the countryside where I grew up—my mother scorching a pot of beans to save on fuel, and the two of us forcing them down with cornbread anyway.
But Ethan and Claire were different.
They’d grown up in Boston’s Back Bay, in wealthy families.
So when I was with them, most of the time all I could do was sit there quietly and listen—listen to them talk about seeing the Leaning Tower of Pisa together when they were eight, watching the northern lights in Iceland at ten.
They’d laugh and argue about which Swiss ski resort had the most authentic chocolate lava cake, or complain that the Hamptons parties this year weren’t as good as last.
I mimicked them, dumping cream and sugar into my coffee just to force it down.
Lucky they weren’t here, or they’d have laughed at me again for having no taste.
My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: Where are you?
Before I could answer, a second one popped up:
A place like Disney—Claire and I have been here a thousand times growing up. We’re sick of it.
I only came today because of you. Can you please stop wandering off? It’s annoying enough without having to hunt you down.
I stared at those words on the screen for a long time.
He seemed to have forgotten this was our third time at Disney.
The first was right after I moved to Boston for work. He’d come along to win me over.
But that trip stood out in my memory because Claire had chosen every ride, every restaurant, every souvenir the entire time.
When Claire wanted to go on the roller coaster and I said quietly, “I’m a little afraid of heights—I can wait for you two at the bottom,” Ethan’s face darkened, his voice thick with reproach.
“Why didn’t you say earlier that you couldn’t ride? Claire and I are so busy, we made time to come with you, and this is how it turns out.”
And the reason they were willing to come a third time…
…was because last time, I’d rarely found something I really wanted: a fiftieth-anniversary limited-edition Minnie Mouse diamond earring set. Limited stock—one per ticket stub.
But before I could pay, Claire had already smilingly gotten the last pair wrapped up by the clerk and slipped it into her own bag. She’d hooked her arm through Ethan’s and cooed, “The design’s just too cute! Thank you, Ethan! I knew you loved me most!”
Ethan turned to me and said, “Claire has great taste. It’s rare she finds something she really likes. She made a point of coming with you—let her have this one, and I’ll bring you back to buy another later.”
Later.
He was always saying later.
I should have been used to it by then.
Claire was his childhood sweetheart, the girl he’d grown up with. She was also my roommate at Boston University while I was doing my PhD. She was the one who introduced us.
So whether it was a birthday, Valentine’s Day, or an anniversary, even a romantic dinner had to have a seat reserved for her.
Ethan took it for granted—they were the “iron triangle.”
I wasn’t allowed to mind. Even the faintest twinge of hurt or bitterness would have felt like a betrayal of that friendship.
I took a deep breath and typed back: You two go ahead. Something came up—I’m heading home.
I only had two sips of that coffee.
No matter how much cream and sugar I added, it still wasn’t to my taste.
Back at the apartment, I collapsed into bed and drifted off.
I don’t know how long I’d been asleep when the bedroom door pushed open and the mattress dipped.
Ethan leaned over and put his arms around me, kissing my forehead. “So this is what you meant by ‘something came up’? Being busy?”
I opened my eyes, pushed him off, sat up woodenly, and said nothing.
After a long silence he sighed and pulled me back into his arms.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know I was all wrapped up in Claire’s foundation project today and neglected you. My tone was off too. I apologize. It won’t happen again. You haven’t eaten, have you? I’ll cook. We’ll make up for the candlelit dinner from last time. What do you say?”
That candlelit dinner had been supposed to be just the two of us. I’d cooked a whole spread of dishes from back home.
Then Claire had joined at the last minute—and had an allergic reaction.
Ethan had blown up at me on the spot. “Grace! You don’t know Claire’s allergic to sage? What kind of friend are you?”
Faced with his angry, suddenly unfamiliar face, my eyes had stung, my chest tight with grievance.
“…I didn’t know. Neither of you ever told me.”
He’d sneered. “Liar. Last time we were on Cape Cod, Claire and I discussed it specifically. You were sitting right there. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear.”
The words had lodged in my throat. A ridiculous, absurd laugh rose in me.
“Yes, I heard. But you were speaking French. I couldn’t understand a word.”