Page 161 of Vows We Never Made
There are so many possibilities.
Maybe I was too focused on my store and he decided it bored him to death.
Or maybe he met someone else he likes more in the elite New York business circles—and he’s pissed because we’ve agreed that this thing, whatever it is, has to stay exclusive.
Or he’s seen enough Hattie Sage for this life, all my boring imperfections wearing out their welcome. And he’s wondering if he can have his grandfather ruled insane posthumously and overturn a six-month prison sentence wedded to me.
Sigh.
I should’ve expected this.
I just wish I knew why, what’s inside his mind as he looks past me, or down into his glass, swirling his drink.
By the time the main course comes with the heavenly scent of braised chicken, herbs, and rich wine, I’m not that hungry.
I can’t bear the silence anymore.
“Okay, before we dig in, you have to tell me,” I say. He looks up in surprise. “What’s wrong?”
“I already told you, nothing. I—”
“I know you keep saying that, but look at you. Look at us. Something’s eating you up and it worries me.” That comes across more accusatory than intended, but my frustration boils over.
Ethan frowns, studying my eyes with the full weight of his soul.
“You have to know? It’s ridiculous, really. Stupid family drama.”
“What drama?”
“Earlier, Margot brought up that letter I found and Mom walked in. When we asked about it, she got up in arms. Said some weird shit about Gramps ruining everything, running me off. She’s normally subdued, cold when it comes to him. I’ve never seen her freak like that.”
The waiter comes over to check on us and our meals again—man, he’s dropping by a lot, but I guess that’s just Michelin level service—which reminds me to eat. My dish is incredible, but it’s hard to enjoy it as we lapse into silence and my thoughts gather like thunderheads.
“So it’s a sensitive subject for her? Interesting.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” he growls. “She was livid.”
Wow.
I’m so curious, but I’m also a tad relieved.
At least this explains why he’s so reserved, even if it doesn’t cover the severity. I try to rally my thoughts between bites of heavenly chicken stew.
“Did she explain?”
When Ethan looks up, his eyes are frigid, blue sky turned into a field of ice.
“No, and I couldn’t begin to guess. Don’t know why she dialed it up to eleven and went off on Gramps like that. Maybe adelayed grief reaction or something. She hasn’t had one since he died. They were always estranged, but this seems odd.”
Oh, secrets.
He’s steeped in them, and finding out the people he’s closest to have plenty more probably doesn’t sit well. Who can blame him?
I might’ve chosen this fake marriage, but I’d never choose to be born a Blackthorn.
“That’s intense.” I take another bite of my food, beginning to truly enjoy it. “I never would’ve thought some old letter would be such a big deal.”
“Never.” Ethan’s frown deepens.
