5. Violet
Mrs. Bennet is having a hard time looking at me as we prepare the meal for the dining room. It makes my heart sink when she’s always been so kind and warm toward me. She’s rightfully upset, thinking that her son and I have been hiding our relationship right under her nose. And she has every right to feel hurt and betrayed. I want to say something to make her smile, but what? What can I possibly do or say in this situation that will ease the tension in the house?
“Have you and Ethan discussed what you’ll do after you’re married?” she finally asks.
“Do?” I repeat.
“For work.”
I inhale. “I’m a real estate agent,” I remind her gently. “I’m not sure what plans Ethan has for himself.”
She stops cutting tomatoes for the salad and looks at me. “Really?”
“Ethan has a lot of exceptional qualities,” I volunteer. Whatever he does, he’ll be successful. He’s a good man.”
“I know, honey. And I’m glad you two finally realized your feelings for one another. Harley and I knew that the two of you would end up together, eventually. I just wish you would’ve told us sooner.”
I blush and turn away, hoping she won’t read the lie all over my face.
“In fact, if I could have chosen anyone for Ethan, I would have chosen you, Violet,” Mrs. Bennet goes on, and I wish she’d stop. Every word she speaks only makes me feel worse, sicker to my stomach.
I just need to get through tonight, and then I will tell Ethan to come clean. I can’t lie to his parents for months—I care about them too much.
Fussing with the breadbasket, I turn to put it on the dining table, but her words freeze me in place. “I just wish you would’ve told us sooner.”
I swallow. For hours, I thought of an answer that might satisfy her, and I can’t help but curse my best friend again for putting me in this position.
“There were a couple of reasons,” I mumble evasively. “I didn’t want to change the way you looked at me. I know you’ve always considered me one of Ethan’s friends. I didn’t want to change that dynamic.”
She turns fully toward me now, compassion brightening her hazel eyes. It’s remarkable how much Ethan looks like her, except for the height.
“Honey, you’re a part of this family. You have been since childhood. If you and Ethan want to get married, then we would never stand in your way. Is that what you’re worried about?”
A fusion of sadness and love commingles in my heart toward the woman. Whoever Ethan ends up with is a lucky woman. Mrs. Bennet will be the best mother-in-law in the world.
“It’s not just that,” I say quickly, darting my eyes away.
“What else?” she prompts me. “Is it Mr. Bennet? I know he feels the same way.”
I shake my head, another wave of affection for the pair overtaking me. “No. It’s Spruce Crossing. This is such a small town, and people love to talk and gossip so much. We just wanted to keep it private, to enjoy each other without everyone else getting involved.”
I think of the two women on the street earlier in the day after we left the jewelry shop.
What if this was a genuine relationship? What a mess that would be.
Unexpectedly, a shiver rushes through me, but I shrug it off.
“That doesn’t matter to you anymore?” Mrs. Bennet asks, returning to her salad. I catch the slightly guilty expression on her face. I guess I know who was responsible for all the chatter happening already.
“They had to find out eventually,” I add brightly, not wanting her to feel ashamed of sharing the news. “I mean, especially if we’re getting married. That’s not something that can be kept secret in a town of fifteen hundred, is it?”
She flashes me a nervous smile, and I finally get a chance to set the breadbasket in the dining room.
The tension in the air thickens almost as soon as I walk across the threshold, but both men stop talking when they see me. “Dinner’s ready,” I offer lightly.
“Thank goodness,” Ethan growls, standing. “You need help in the kitchen?”
“No,” Mrs. Bennet replies for me, setting the dimmer switch for the lighting in the dining room as her husband finds a book of matches in the buffet. Mr. Bennet gets busy lighting the long candles, and we’re ushered into our respective seats.
The low illumination catches the glint of a large ruby and diamonds on my ring finger, and I once again find myself fascinated by the gleam. When I look up, I see Ethan watching me, a peculiar expression on his face.
I exhale a long breath as we exchange smiles across the table. He doesn’t need to speak the words aloud because I can read them in his eyes.
We’ve got this.
“That wenta lot better than I expected,” I admit as we make our way down the windy steps toward Ethan’s black Durango, parked at the curb. Almost on cue to my words, the heel of my boot catches on a patch of ice, and I stumble forward, prepared to end up on the Bennets’ front lawn.
Swiftly and without missing a step, Ethan’s powerful arm wraps around my waist, and I’m upright before I realize what’s happening. He snickers, placing me on the stone walkway as Mrs. Bennet calls out from the doorway. “Oh, Violet! Are you all right, honey?”
“Great. She saw that?” I whisper, turning to wave with a fake smile on my face. “All good, Mrs. B!”
“She’s tended to more of your scraped knees than your own mom,” Ethan reminds me, his forearm sliding away from my hips. “And let’s face it—you fall about ten times a week in the winter and have since second grade.”
Oddly, I’m disappointed that he releases me, and I blush at the realization.
“Thanks for saving my life again,” I joke dryly as he unlocks the SUV. To my surprise, he opens the passenger side first, and I eye him curiously.
“Mom’s still watching,” he mumbles, ensuring I’m inside before closing the door. My gaze follows him around the front of the vehicle, a peculiar feeling twisting inside me. “Where are you parked?” he asks when he climbs into the driver’s seat. I notice he’s avoiding my stare.
Right. I have to get my car still. I haven’t been near it all day. “At the office, but just take me home. It’s closer.”
Nodding, he starts the car, and we head away from the Bennets’ toward my townhouse near the park.
All the streetlights are on, and I notice the postings on every lamppost announcing the upcoming Winter Wonderland Festival. “The festival is this weekend,” I comment idly. That’s not what I want to say.
“I saw an ad for it earlier at the Daily Grind,” Ethan says. “Any interest in going?”
My head jerks toward him, the lights passing over his face and encompassing him in shadows as we drive. “We could…” I agree slowly. “But I really think we need to talk about what’s going to happen with this ‘engagement.’” I put the word in air quotes.
His jaw twitches, hands curling tighter against the steering wheel. “We’ve had a day. Maybe we can pick this up tomorrow,” he suggests. “I don’t think we’re going to make any sound decisions tonight, anyway.”
That’s a fair assessment, and I agree.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I ask as he turns onto my street, his vehicle slowing down.
“I am. I can come get you in the morning and bring you to the office.”
Relieved, I grin at him and take off the engagement ring as he stops in front of my place. I drop it in his center console and grab my purse along with the leftovers that Mrs. Bennet insisted I take home with me.
Shocked, Ethan gapes at me. “What are you doing?”
“Going home?” I reply, confused. “Why? You want to come in? You just said you were done.”
He shakes his head, picking up the ring to hand back. “Keep this on,” he implores me. “At least until we figure out when to come clean about the ‘engagement.’” He makes air quotes back at me, and I roll my eyes.
“I just didn’t want to lose it,” I say, flushing.
He’s adamant. “You won’t lose it. I know you.”
I pause. “You never told me what you were saving up for,” I say suddenly, remembering how our conversation got interrupted in the coffeehouse. “Why you’re Daddy Warbucks suddenly.”
His attractive features are hard to make out here, but I can tell he’s wrestling with disclosing it. I’m vaguely insulted. We share everything with each other.
“Come on. Tell me,” I beg. “It’s me. Your fiancée.”
I grin wickedly at him, and he smiles weakly back. “I’ll tell you, but not tonight. It’s a conversation for another day—a longer conversation.”
A twist of dread spirals through my gut. “You’re not thinking about leaving Spruce Crossing, are you?” I ask worriedly. Never have I ever entertained a world without Ethan in it, but suddenly, the thought terrifies me.
To my relief, he laughs aloud. “Never. I’ll never leave this town—or you.” He winks, and my pulse quickens unexpectedly. I tell myself I’m reading too much into the words. “I’ll be by around eight thirty, okay? I’ll text you when I’m on my way.” He closes my hand around the ring, and sparks of electricity rush through me at his warm fingers. “Leave this on.”
“Yes, sir!” I reply, slipping the ring back on my finger, and reach for the door handle.
“Don’t fall!” he calls out before I can close the door, and I roll my eyes, heading up the driveway toward my front door—all without taking a tumble in the snow.
I unlock my front door and turn to wave at him. Ethan flashes his headlights and waits for me to get inside before driving off, but as I lock myself inside, my heart rate doesn’t quite return to normal yet.
Slipping out of my coat and boots, I pad into the modern kitchen and open the stainless-steel fridge for a can of sparkling water before sitting at the table and opening the drink.
I put my hand up to the track lighting to look at the ring again and shake my head at the girlish obsession I have with the piece of jewelry. Never have I really ever considered marriage before, my career always filling my days and an active social life keeping my evenings entertained. There have been dates and boyfriends over the years, but no one I’ve really taken seriously enough to consider spending my life with.
Suddenly, one ring on my finger is making me reconsider. While I would never admit it to Ethan or anyone else, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about things that have never crossed my mind before. Visions of white wedding dresses, bridal showers, and a honeymoon somewhere tropical. Baby showers and first days of school with little children on each hand as we walk to Spruce Crossing Elementary. I can envision myself as a mother, hosting Christmas dinners.
It feels so silly and trivial that an expensive, pretty ring can do that, like the piece of jewelry has some kind of magical property, but it’s more than that.
I realize that’s not what’s making my stomach do flip-flops as I sit alone at the kitchen table, twisting the heirloom ring.
The man I’m imagining with me at the altar, on that tropical beach, and ripping open presents under the Christmas tree is Ethan.
Abruptly, I push myself out of the chair and snatch up the can of water, shaking my head with such vehemence that I hope it clears it entirely. I’m losing my mind. It really has been too long and confusing of a day. Ethan and I are best friends, and this is all a production. I’m tired, and the chaos is messing with my head. I need to get some rest.
Yet as I climb the stairs to my bedroom, I can’t shake the image of him in the car from my mind, the angles of his face, the intensity of his warm, hazel irises.
When have I ever looked at Ethan as handsome before tonight?