The Fiancée He Forgot Chapter 02
Ethan had frozen. Then, out of nowhere, he’d said:
“So? Is it my fault you can’t understand?”
Right. Whose fault, then?
Blame it on being born poor.
Forget French—half the foreign place names they mentioned, I’d only found on a map after moving to Boston.
While they were skiing in the Alps, I was in the mountains helping my father chop wood, my legs scratched raw by poison vines.
While they were watching the aurora in Iceland, I was walking two miles through the rain to the town’s public library to read.
They wouldn’t understand my world.
I couldn’t understand theirs.
When two worlds like that come together, one of them always has to bend, always has to be the one that hurts.
Ethan led me to the couch, and just as he was heading into the kitchen, the doorbell rang.
Claire swept in, arms full of grocery bags.
“Ethan! Knew you’d want to cook yourself! Auntie Claire got all the ingredients! Boston Harbor lobster, and my favorite scallops!”
Looking at that pile of shellfish, I suddenly laughed.
So. It was to feed Claire.
They’d forgotten, apparently, that I have a severe shellfish allergy.
The table filled up with seafood. I didn’t touch a bite.
When Ethan saw me just sitting there, his mood soured again. “What are you doing? Claire went to the trouble of buying all this. I worked hard to make it for you. You won’t eat any of it—are you sulking on purpose?”
Claire suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth, her face a picture of exaggerated apology. “Oh my God, Grace, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot—you’re allergic to shellfish!”
Dead silence at the table.
After a long while, Ethan stiffly changed the subject.
“My parents are free next weekend. They want to meet up. Get the engagement locked down. Claire’s already picked out the restaurant—the Bristol Club. My dad’s favorite.”
Claire blinked and clasped her hands, brimming with anticipation. “I’ve even picked out the venue for the engagement party! At our estate in Newport. A lawn party in summer would be perfect!”
I took a deep breath and cut her off. “Not necessary. I’m busy next weekend. My lab project’s at a critical stage.”
I lifted my head, met their stunned eyes, and felt something long-pent-up in me lift, as if the pressure had been cut in half.
“The engagement can wait.”
The air froze again.
Claire’s eyes reddened slightly. “Grace—do you not like the venue I picked? I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it that way… I just felt I know Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore’s tastes better than anyone.”
Ethan chimed in without missing a beat.
“You’re making a scene over this? Claire was just trying to help. She was doing it for us.”
Listening to the two of them play call-and-response, I suddenly felt bone-tired.
I remembered the first time I went with Ethan to his parents’ house in Chestnut Hill.
I’d spent a whole month carefully preparing a watercolor I’d hand-painted based on old family photos. Claire, without so much as a word, had swapped in an expensive Wedgwood set of her own choosing and taken my painting out of the gift box.
When the box was opened, I froze.
Claire had popped up all smiles. “Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore! I helped Grace pick this out especially! Do you like it?”
Mrs. Whitmore had beamed. “Oh, Claire, darling, your taste is always impeccable! I knew it had to be you.”