8. All Dressed Up （Ethan） #2
Which shouldn’t sting.
Neither of us chose this fuckery. But it seems like all the money in the world and a shiny new bookstore can’t win her over.
“I’ll be right here. Won’t leave you alone for a second. It’s going to be fine,” I say as we climb the stone stairs to the porch.
Ares objects and I have to pull the leash to coax him up on his stubby legs.
There’s barely time to grab her hand before Dad throws open the door.
“Ethan!” he says cheerfully, stepping back and letting us both in. “And Hattie Sage, how long has it been? Great to see you both.”
Hattie blushes. “Thank you, sir.”
“It’s Scott to you and the rest of the world,” Dad says jovially. “Want a drink to unwind from your flight? Come pick your poison—we have anything you like. The latest wine just came in from our favorite place in Napa.”
“Some water would be lovely.” Hattie looks at me with a wooden smile.
Dad’s smile doesn’t shift. “Coming right up. Ethan?”
“Whiskey,” I say. “The usual Irish stuff. Nothing fancy.”
“No, never. A man of simple tastes.” He winks.
God, this charade is going to be painful, and I don’t just mean the pretend engagement.
Everyone’s playing their parts today, including my artificially happy and loving parents, so well it turns my stomach.
As Dad goes to fetch our drinks, Mom floats toward us from the kitchen, searching desperately when she hears Ares’ nails clicking the floor.
“Oh, there he is!” She bends down, ruffling Ares’ long ears. “So glad you brought him, Ethan.”
“What choice did I have? Didn’t want any blood on my hands.” I bend down to kiss her cheek.
“Ohhh, big boy. What a little baby,” Mom coos. “Do you want some nice cheese?”
“Mom.” I clear my throat pointedly. “This is Hattie.”
She starts and looks up from smothering Ares with kisses.
Then she gives Hattie a long once-over, slowly taking in the dress, the shoes, the elegantly curled hair and the flawless makeup.
A genuine smile curves her lips.
“Hattie, dear,” she says fondly. “You’ve grown up and you look wonderful .”
She inhales deeply, holding a breath as she gives my mom a hug. “Thanks! I love Fig dresses, they’re becoming an addiction,” she lies effortlessly.
“Oh, yes .” Mom beams. “Always so elegant and original. You should meet him if you get a chance, the man’s a treasure.”
For a second, my girl looks deranged, stunned into silence.
That’s the thing about Mom. Even though she loves all the finest things in life and loves to make sure everybody knows it, she doesn’t know shit about them.
Yes, she can smell money from twenty miles away, but the qualities that separate the expensive from the cheap elude her.
All she cares about is the price tag or the awe-inspiring name.
“It’s fabulous to see you again. Wow, I think the last time was Margot’s graduation party?” Hattie says, still practically rigid from stress beside me.
But Mom gives her another welcoming smile.
“It’s our pleasure to have you here. I know it’s a lot, being engaged to my son.” She throws me a playful look.
Fuck this.
It’s all a show.
Mom and I have never been close enough to be playful. But I guess they’ve decided today must be all about making them look like the perfect parents. For Elvira Blackthorn, appearances are as supreme as famous, expensive labels.
Christ, where is that drink?
“What’s for dinner?” I ask, gesturing forward impatiently.
“Oh, yes. Right this way.” Mom beckons with one hand decked out in shining rings.
Her hair is freshly dyed, a shade of ash blonde that’s too light.
“We brought in a sushi chef, Hattie, so I hope you’re hungry.
He’s very impressive, thirty years between Kyoto, Honolulu, and Seattle working his trade. ”
Of course he did.
And of course they fucking did.
It would’ve been too much to expect them to cook or serve up something simple.
I don’t think Mom knows how to boil pasta. Gramps made her take a few lessons when she was a kid, apparently, but now if the food isn’t prepared by a culinary wonder, it doesn’t live in this house.
The entitlement shouldn’t piss me off as much as it does.
It’s always been this way.
Before we can settle in, though, there’s a distant tap at the door and a trilled “yoo-hoo” that makes my blood run cold.
Hattie stiffens beside me, absolute horror etched on her face as she slowly turns.
“Oh no,” she whispers like she’s been gutted.
Mom gives us a puzzled glance. “Do we have more company? I wasn’t aware you were bringing another guest, Ethan.”
Neither was I.
Not until Julia Sage lets herself in without invitation and rushes into the dining room, smiling at us.
She’s gone for a modern casual look today, baggy green suit pants and an off-white blouse that makes her look like she’s turning up for an interview at a California tech company.
“Hattie, darling!” she says, pushing her huge sunglasses up onto her forehead.
Hattie’s sigh sounds more like gagging.
“I’m so sorry for the surprise, guys. But you both know my mom—” she explains as Julia walks around the place like she owns it. The sight of her brings back memories of the green sludge.
I don’t know how I kept that vile potion down.
“Elvira Blackthorn! Oh my God, it must be—what?—ten years?” Julia makes a beeline for Mom, who just looks confused. “The other day when Hattie mentioned she was coming down here to see her new in-laws, I knew it was the perfect chance for us to all come together and reconnect!”
Hattie’s eyes flutter shut, pained.
Who the hell can blame her?
Mom pats Julia lightly on the back and smoothly disengages with a split-second annoyed grimace. A move I’ve seen countless times.
She even used it on me as a moody kid a few times to gracefully wiggle out of having to be a parent.
“Nice to see you again, Julia. Welcome to our lovely home,” she says.
“So lovely ,” Julia gushes, so sickly sweet it makes my teeth ache.
Hattie winces like she has the same reaction, and I nudge her with my arm.
“Did you know she was coming? A warning would’ve been nice,” I mutter as Mom leads the rest of the way into the dining room, which is already set and ready.
Large windows overlook the green gardens and the glinting sea beyond. When you reach this level of money, you start to measure your wealth in landscaping fees, but it shows.
This view is almost as close to paradise as you’re going to get.
“I might’ve accidentally mentioned it to her,” Hattie confesses miserably, taking my arm and digging her fingers in. “But I didn’t think she’d actually come. We flew . I never even dropped the address.”
“Damn, she’s one of those people, then. Why did you bring it up at all?”
“She found out we were engaged and—yeah. Pretty unavoidable when people have been writing about us online. Mom loves the gossip mills and when she found out, she dropped in on me at work. Right before you did, actually.”
“Ah.” It makes sense now. “That’s why you were so worked up.”
“What? No .” She glowers at me, smoky eyelashes framing those green eyes as they spark with irritation. “I was worked up because you were being ridiculous. You still need to talk to Mr. Sneed and take it back.”
“Too late, he’s been paid. So your mother came to the bookstore and what?” I pull out her chair and let her sit.
She looks like she’s scared one wrong move will ruin this whole thing.
With her mom talking the ear off of mine, though, it doesn’t look like there’s any way I’ll make her relax anytime soon.
“She just bombarded me with a bunch of questions. I didn’t know how to answer anything.
I’m not a great liar, Ethan.” She looks down at her lap, smoothing a wrinkle in her skirt.
“Then I got flustered because—what am I supposed to tell her? I let it slip that I was meeting your parents, and now we’re here. ”
“You’re not telling her the truth?” I ask too harshly.
“No way,” she says too quickly. “Definitely not. She’d eat me alive.”
“Good,” I growl. “As long as we have an understanding and maintain total opsec.”
The hate she smiles back almost makes me laugh.
I remember it’s not just my parents we need to convince, but Julia barely notices us, already looking like she’s made herself at home.
Later, we find out she drove down from Portland ahead of us. There’s damn near nothing that would’ve stopped her from being here.
Hattie’s her only daughter, don’t you know.
Dad makes himself useful today, keeping the drinks flowing throughout this torture session. I grab the bottle on our end of the table and fill Hattie’s wineglass to the brim.
She grabs the stem like it’s a lifeline and sucks it down so fast I almost laugh.
“If you want the full medicinal effect, you have to pace yourself,” I mutter.
Ares, finally bored from Mom’s needy scratches, waddles over and collapses at my feet with a loud groan.
I give him a knowing look. He’s perfectly positioned for table scraps.
Pretty sure this bottomless pit with ears that reach the floor has chowed down on more fine food in his lifetime than eighty percent of the human population.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hattie whispers, shaking her head.
“Be glad they’re not looking at us.” I nod at our parents, lost in conversation. Mom leaves Julia awed, talking about their last trip to Greece.
The chef emerges soon with his creations, laying them out on the table.
All the classics are here and I can’t complain—gyoza, milk bread, and hibachi fried rice with a half dozen fresh sushi rolls and neatly arranged sashimi.
Piles of tempura, golden brown and cooked to perfection.
Hot rocks waiting for small cuts of A5 wagyu on demand.
Julia dominates the conversation, even when she’s gushing about my parents’ travels and their recent charity work in rainforest preservation.
Charity.