I抦 bored out of my mind, picking at the filet mignon while Oliver and my father make polite conversation. My mother and Candace are discussing the wedding, which is an equally unappealing topic.
And my fianc?is flirting with one of the female servers. I chime in on the stock market discussion simply to make it clear it doesn抰 bother me Crew couldn抰 even wait until the end of dinner to find someone willing.
I thought Crew would be easy to ignore梩o control. I also knew we抎 have a physical relationship. Novelty, at first. For kids, later. It抯 a prospect that抯 become increasingly desirable梐nd demeaning. I won抰 beg him. I refuse to. I抎 rather knock myself up with a turkey baster.
All through dinner, I steal glances at the new addition to my left hand. Arthur Kensington spared a long stare at the diamond ring when I reappeared earlier. A look laced with sadness and longing and sentimentality.
Crew gave me his mother抯 ring.
I don抰 know why the possibility didn抰 occur to me until I saw Arthur抯 expression, but it didn抰。 Elizabeth Kensington passed away when Crew was five. I wonder how differently the three men she left behind might look today if she hadn抰 died so young. Would Arthur be as robotic? Oliver as desperate? Crew as callous?
揑抎 love some more wine.?I interrupt the love fest across the table.
The server startles, finally remembering there are other people in the room. She grabs my glass and scurries off.
Crew抯 unsettling gaze rests on me for the entire two minutes it takes for her to refill it and return. I don抰 look away. Our eye contact feels like a chess match, with no pieces to play and no obvious victory.
I don抰 know what he wants from me. I figured the simple act of marrying him would be where it started and ended. Until we have kids, nothing else needs to change. He抣l work. I抣l work. Our lives will look like a Venn diagram, with some overlap, but not much.
That moment in the library didn抰 feel like a neat separation though. It felt like a raging inferno that would incinerate lines, not just blur them. I doused it卼emporarily. The embers flicker at me from across the table.
As soon as dessert has been cleared, we end up in the soaring entryway, trading goodbyes. My father is in a short mood. Like Crew said, he and I are a done deal. Hanson Ellsworth doesn抰 spend time chasing those. This evening was a courtesy, an invitation it would have been too rude to refuse.
I get nodded farewells from Arthur and Oliver and a hug from Candace. I wonder if she can tell I抦 so tense I could snap in two. It抯 becoming increasingly difficult to remain indifferent about my upcoming nuptials. For years, I抳e told myself it抯 nothing more than a contract. A business deal. A blending of assets.
With Oliver梬ith anyone else梚t would be.
With Crew, it抯 different.
My heart hammers when he approaches me. Stops when his thumb catches and rubs against the diamond resting on my left hand. 揑t looks good on you, sweetheart,?he whispers, before his lips graze my cheek. The mocking edge to the words destroys any genuine intent.
There抯 a huge family portrait hanging in the center of the marble staircase, just above the split in the steps. It抯 of the original Kensington family: Arthur, Elizabeth, Oliver, and Crew. My eyes settle on Elizabeth抯 left hand, resting on a much younger Crew抯 shoulder. The diamond on her hand is an exact replica of the diamond on mine.
揟hank you,?I manage.
Crew抯 eyes follow my gaze and flick to the portrait as well, his jaw tightening with realization.
Does he regret giving it to me?
Is he worried I抣l think it means something it doesn抰？
Was he simply too lazy to go buy me a new one?
Rather than ask for answers to any of those questions, I follow my parents out of the marble foyer and into the crisp spring air.
My mom is talking to me as we walk toward the fountain where our cars are parked. I nod along to whatever she抯 saying. Something about a dress fitting? I抣l get a couple dozen texts reminding me of whatever it is, no doubt.
I thought I抎 take more of an interest in my wedding when the time arrived. Barring some catastrophic event, it抯 the only one I抣l ever have. I used to think any apathy toward the event would stem from a lack of significance. That the indifference I felt toward the groom would seep outward and color everything else. Instead, I抦 terrified of the opposite. Nervous that caring what white dress I wear or how many tiers the cake is or which flowers are in my bouquet might reveal I care about him.
My parents depart first, my father抯 omnipresent impatience a hasty urge. I linger in the driveway for a few more minutes, looking up at the stone fa鏰de of the Kensington manor. Stiff and hard and unreadable梛ust like its inhabitants. Just like the world I grew up in, the world I抦 stuck in.