Chapter 1 - I’M MARRYING CLAIRE
Ethan Holloway had expected anger.
He had expected his father to question his age, his income, the unfinished degree, the six-month engagement, maybe even the fifteen-year age gap between Ethan and Claire Bennett.
He had not expected silence.
The Holloway living room looked staged for a photograph no one wanted to take.
Three high-backed chairs faced the long walnut meeting table. Water glasses sat untouched beneath the warm brass pendant light. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, late-afternoon sun fell across the manicured Cincinnati lawn.
Grant Holloway sat at the head of the table in a charcoal suit, one hand resting beside his glass.
Diane sat opposite Ethan.
She looked nervous.
That alone bothered him.
His mother was rarely nervous.
“Say something,” Ethan demanded.
Grant’s eyes remained on him.
Ethan pushed his chair back and stood.
“I’m marrying Claire.”
Diane glanced at her husband.
That tiny movement made Ethan angrier.
“There,” he said. “You did it again.”
Diane frowned. “Did what?”
“Looked at Dad before answering me.”
“This is not about choosing sides.”
“It feels exactly like choosing sides.”
Grant finally spoke.
“You are twenty.”
“So?”
“So you have known this woman fourteen months.”
“I know how long I’ve known her.”
“You proposed after eleven.”
“And she said yes.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? She said yes to me.”
“Ethan.”
“No, Dad. You don’t like that I made a decision without asking permission.”
“That is not why I object.”
“You object to everything I do that doesn’t fit your plan.”
Diane tried to intervene.
“Ethan, please.”
He turned toward her.
“You too?”
“I’m asking you to slow down.”
“I already have. For three weeks.”
“You announced an engagement and expected us to celebrate before we had even met her properly.”
“You met her twice.”
“At dinner,” Diane said. “That is not the same as knowing someone.”
Ethan’s frustration broke.
He kicked the table leg once.
The glasses shook.
Diane flinched.
Grant did not.
“If you keep trying to stop me,” Ethan said, “I’ll leave this house.”
Grant slowly stood.
“No.”
The word was quiet.
Absolute.
Ethan stared.
“No?”
“You will not marry her.”
Something hot moved through Ethan’s chest.
“You don’t get to decide who I love.”
Grant’s eyes hardened.
“I am not discussing your feelings.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I’m discussing a fact.”
“What fact?”
“You are not marrying that woman.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“WHY?”
Diane looked at Grant.
Her expression changed.
Not surprise.
Dread.
Ethan saw it.
His anger shifted.
“What?”
Neither parent answered.
He looked at Diane.
“Mom?”
She lowered her eyes.
Grant remained silent for one more second.
Then:
“Because Claire…”
He paused.
“…used to be my girlfriend.”
The room stopped.
Ethan stared at him.
“What?”
Grant did not repeat it.
He didn’t have to.
Ethan looked at Diane.
She closed her eyes.
And that told him something even worse.
“You knew.”
Diane opened her eyes.
“Ethan—”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
The word landed harder than Grant’s revelation.
Ethan stepped backward.
His chair struck the floor behind him.
“How long?”
Diane whispered:
“A long time.”
“How long?”
“Ethan.”
“How long?”
“Nine years.”
He looked at Grant.
Then Diane.
Then back.
“You both knew that the woman I am engaged to used to date Dad, and no one thought maybe I should know?”
Grant answered carefully.
“We learned who she was after you began seeing her.”
“And then?”
“You were already emotionally involved.”
“So you lied.”
“We did not lie.”
Ethan laughed.
“You’re joking.”
“We did not tell you.”
“That is lying when you’re sitting at dinner with her pretending nothing happened.”
Diane stood.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
She looked at Grant.
Again.
The same glance.
Ethan pointed at them.
“That. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
Grant’s voice sharpened.
“Do not speak to your mother like that.”
Ethan turned.
“You are the last person who gets to lecture me about respect.”
Grant’s face hardened.
Diane moved between them.
“Stop.”
Ethan stepped away.
He suddenly felt nauseated.
“What does ‘girlfriend’ mean?”
Grant looked at him.
“You know what it means.”
“No. I don’t. Was it three dates? Six weeks? Did she work for you?”
“No.”
“Did you sleep together?”
Diane closed her eyes again.
Grant said:
“Ethan.”
“That’s a yes.”
“It was a relationship.”
“How long?”
Silence.
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
Ethan stared.
Eight months.
Not a casual mistake.
Not a coincidence.
A relationship.
His father and his fiancée had once been lovers.
He sat slowly.
Then another question came.
“When?”
Grant did not answer immediately.
Ethan looked at Diane.
She was pale.
“When you two were married?”
Diane’s expression gave him nothing.
“Mom?”
Grant said:
“We were separated.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward him.
“What separation?”
Diane looked down.
There it was.
Another secret.
Ethan’s anger disappeared for one stunned second.
“You were separated?”
Grant nodded.
“When?”
“Nine years ago.”
Ethan calculated.
“I was eleven.”
“Yes.”
“You told me Dad was working in Chicago.”
No answer.
“You told me he had an apartment because of work.”
Diane whispered:
“He did have an apartment.”
Ethan laughed once.
A broken sound.
“And a girlfriend.”
No one spoke.
He looked around the beautiful room.
The house he had grown up believing contained one family history.
Apparently there had always been another underneath it.
He stood.
“Where’s Claire?”
Grant’s eyes sharpened.
“Do not go to her angry.”
“You don’t get to tell me how to go anywhere.”
“Ethan.”
“I’m going to ask her one question.”
“What?”
Ethan looked at his father.
“Whether she knew who I was before I proposed.”
Grant’s expression changed.
Diane saw it.
So did Ethan.
That was when he understood there was still more.
“What?”
Grant said nothing.
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“You think she did.”
Grant answered:
“I know she did.”
The room went cold again.
Ethan stared at him.
“How?”
Grant looked at Diane.
Then back at his son.
“Because I confronted her three months ago.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Three months.
Before the proposal.
Before the engagement.
Before tonight.
Grant had spoken to Claire.
Claire had known.
Both had kept silent.
Ethan walked toward the front door.
Diane called:
“Ethan.”
He stopped but did not turn.
She said:
“Whatever she tells you, listen before you decide.”
His hand tightened around the doorknob.
“That would have been useful advice nine years ago.”
Then he left.
Behind him, Grant looked at Diane.
“You should have told him.”
Diane’s eyes hardened.
“So should you.”
May you like
And for the first time that evening, Grant Holloway had no answer.
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