Chapter 144

Adrian

I get into my car and set the bag filled with lunch into the backseat. I look over at Clara who holds my phone in her hand, placing it back into the cupholder between us. Raising an eyebrow, I look over at her, hesitating to put the key in the ignition.

“Who is that?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity as the car engine comes to life. Clara simply shrugs in response, looking down at the phone with distaste written across her face.

“It was just a spam call, honey, there is no need to worry about it. I handled it,” the smile returns to her face.

I narrow my eyes at her, just for a brief moment, before nodding, accepting her excuse, despite the alarm bells going off inside my head. It is not worth arguing about, especially when we are on our way to meet my mother for lunch together. We do not need to go into this lunch arguing with one another when we could be united as one.

The drive to the nursing home is silent on my end, whereas Clara fills in the gaps. She tells me about her day so far and the new dresses that she has bought for herself. She even told me that she found a good venue for us to use for our upcoming wedding, a fancy hotel that is renowned for its extravagant beauty and lakeside views.

I simply hummed along as she spoke, unable to bring myself to fully respond while I focus on the road. Well, that is not necessarily the truth. I am worried about what my mother will think of Clara after this lunch together. Her support means the world to me, especially now that Stella is out of my life.

Today, for my sake, at least, needs to be perfect. I can't have another piece of unnecessary drama in my life, especially not between my mother and fiancé.

Clara and I walk into the nursing home. I hold the lunch bag in my hand, the smell of freshly baked pasta and breadsticks filling our close vicinity. I reached out to take Claire's hands, to show that we are a happy couple in love, but she is instead focused on her phone, smiling and giggling at the friends she constantly text instead of focusing on me.

We walk through the building and enter the garden where my mother sits. The nursing home has happily set up a table for us to eat at, the metal benches serving as our seats.

Clara looks up from her phone and scoffs. A look of disapproval spread spreads across her face, her eyes looking around the extravagant garden. She looks so unimpressed, though, as if this is a mere diversion instead of a place that she wants to be.

“Adrian!” my mother calls out from her spot. She stands and waves us over. I waved back, a smile spreading across my face.

I turned to look at Clara and she looks uninterested, as as if this meeting place is beneath her. It makes me angry, but I know I have to play nice today for everybody's sake.

“We should've met at a restaurant instead of a nursing home,” Clara matters to me as we slowly approach my mother, “it is so creepy here. I feel like the dead are watching me.”

Before I can even respond, to tell her, the reason why we were at the nursing home in the first place due to my mother's health, we approach the table, and I placed the bag on top of it. I open up my arms and bring my mother into a hug, kissing her cheek before turning to Clara.

“Mom, you remember Clara,” I say with a smile, too prompt Clara to follow my fashion. She does but it looks pained, forced.

“Ah, yes…Clara,” my mother says with distaste in her voice. I shoot her a look, and she rolls her eyes, placing a heartfelt smile on her face even though I know it's fake. “it's been a long time! How have you been my dear?”

“I've been okay,” Clara says as we sit down. I begin to remove the food from the bag, placing our orders in front of us. “I have been busy with planning the wedding since we want to do it sooner rather than later.”

“Have you thought of who you're going to invite yet?” my mother asks. It is a simple question, one that I do not expect to blow up and out of proportion.

“We were thinking about keeping it on the smaller side,” Clara says in a pompous tone, slowly picking apart a breadstick and taking a nibble out of it, “somewhere between four and five hundred people.”

“Will you be inviting your family?” my mother asks another question. I slowly look up from the pasta in front of me, my eyes staring at the side of my mother's face.

I can feel Clara tense from beside me. She forces a smile onto her face and sets her breadstick down, wiping her hands on the napkin in front of her. My mother feigns innocence, acting as if she is asking a genuine question rather than poking the bear.

I clear my throat to try and get the attention on me, but the two women focus on themselves. It is like I am completely invisible to them, just another body in the room.

“We are inviting family, yes,” Clara speaks with a sharpness in her tone. She fakes a cheeriness, and eagerness to please, my mother.

“Does that mean you will be inviting your sister then? Will Stella be at the wedding?”

The room falls silent. One could hear a pin drop. The silence is ugly and uncomfortable, something that nobody wants to address or talk about.

I turn and look at my mother, and she turns back to look at me, a pained expression on her face. She knows that she has made a mistake but her face goes back to its resolve, ready to double down.

“Do you really expect me to support your marriage with her when you let the love of your life leave? You let Stella slip through your fingers, Adrian, and now you're settling for less—”

“Less?” Clara scoffs. My mother and I don't pay attention to her.

“You were so happy with her. Why can't you go back to her and try to make things work? That's what marriage is about!” my mother continues. “I can't support this marriage to Clara! Not when Stella is still out there!”

“Excuse me!” Clara, yells, slamming her fists onto the table. The plates and food rattle, threatening to spill off the side. She stands and towers over the two of us, anger written all over her face. “But I am sitting right here! How dare you talk about my bitch of a sister in front of me? Your son’s fiancée!”

We turned to look up at her, shocked expressions on my mother’s face from her profanity. I know that my mother has the worst timing, especially when she brought up Stella in front of Clara. All we can do now is sit back and watch as Clara’s anger unfolds in front of our eyes.