Chapter 4

Two makeup artists arrived at my parents' house on the morning of the dinner.

My mother came into the bedroom carrying the rose-colored dress.

“It's an introduction, not an actual engagement. Don't make it bigger than it is.”

I looked past her at the housekeeper, who was holding my license and phone with no intention of returning them.

“If it's only an introduction, why lock the door?”

My mother looked uncomfortable. “Your father doesn't want you leaving at the last minute and embarrassing everyone.”

“What about how I feel?”

“Claire.” She sat on the bed, trying to reason with me. “Your brother has worked so hard for a chance at that west-side store. Nathan's promised him the position if things go well with Evan. Do this for the family.”

“I've done plenty for the family.”

She wouldn't meet my eyes.

Seven years earlier, the Hayeses had lent us forty-five thousand dollars for her surgery. Using my premarital savings and the money I earned online, I'd paid it all back over three years.

My father never acknowledged that.

As far as he was concerned, marrying Nathan had given me a big house and freedom from having to work. Our family had gotten lucky. Whenever they needed anything, I owed it to them to ask Nathan.

I'd introduced clients to Daniel, sorted out my father's unpaid debts, and brought money home at the holidays. They enjoyed every advantage my marriage gave them while insisting I contributed nothing.

Now the marriage was over, and they wanted to keep profiting from my next relationship.

“Not this time.” I pushed the dress away. “I'm not going.”

My mother's eyes filled. “You'd let your brother lose his chance because of you?”

“His job has nothing to do with who I marry.”

My father had heard from the hallway. He pushed the door open.

“Get dressed. Don't make me have someone help you.”

“Help me how? Tie me up and carry me to the hotel?”

His expression changed.

“This isn't the dark ages. Nobody can make you marry anyone. We're asking you to attend a dinner. When you get there, you can decide for yourself whether to say yes.”

I didn't believe him.

Then he took out his phone and played a video.

Aunt June was lying in a hospital bed. She was my mother's younger sister, and the adult I'd always been closest to besides my mother. A sudden gallbladder attack had sent her to the hospital the night before.

“If you refuse to go,” my father said coldly, “everyone will be busy dealing with your mess. No one will have time to stay with your aunt.”

I knew he was manipulating me. I also knew Aunt June wasn't going to die because one less relative sat beside her bed. But seeing her there made it impossible for me to dismiss it entirely.

“Give me my phone and license.”

“At the hotel.”

In the end, I put on the dress.

Before leaving the room, I slipped my rescue inhaler into my bag.

During the worst months of caring for Nathan seven years ago, I'd barely slept. After a bout of pneumonia, I'd developed asthma. Most of the time, it was mild. Enclosed rooms and strong fragrances could set it off.

Nathan knew. He'd once kept a spare inhaler in his car and refused to let anyone use heavily scented candles in the house.

After Olivia came back, the passenger seat I'd always used became hers. The inhaler disappeared, replaced by the gardenia air freshener she liked.

He could remember what someone needed. I just wasn't the first person he thought of anymore.

At the bottom of the stairs, Daniel reached for my bag.

“I'll hold this during the dinner.”

I caught the strap. “My medication's in there.”

“What medication?”

“My inhaler.”

My mother spoke quickly. “Give her that, Daniel.”

He dug it out and dropped it into his own pocket.

“You'll get it at the hotel.”

“Give it to me now.”

I reached for it. He stepped back.

“Don't think you can get out of this by pretending to be sick. A doctor saw you yesterday. He said you were fine.”

“Asthma isn't constant. I know when I need my medication.”

My father interrupted impatiently. “Stop holding everyone up.”

They ushered me into the car. The rear doors had been child-locked. I couldn't open mine from inside.

Flowers meant for the dinner filled the car. In the closed space, their fragrance soon made my chest tighten.

“Open a window.” I tapped the driver's seat.

He didn't respond.

Daniel turned from the front passenger seat. “It's cold outside. Don't make Mom sick.”

“I can't breathe.”

“Here we go again.” He frowned. “If you'd stop making a scene, we'd be there in half an hour.”

I took out my spare tablet. Nathan's conversation still showed the messages from the night before.

I sent a new one.

“They're taking me to the hotel. They took my inhaler.”

No response.

Five minutes later, I tried again.

“The car doors are locked. Nathan, please tell them to stop.”

The messages changed to read.

His answer came at last.

“You're almost at the hotel.”

Then another line.

“Don't argue in the car.”

I stared at the screen. My fingers were shaking, but not from anger.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe.