Chapter 6 Disaster

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Daphne

My father jumps up from his seat with more enthusiasm than I've seen from him in months, practically vaulting over his chair to reach the doorway. "Ethan! Mr. and Mrs. Pierce! Of course you're not late—come in, come in! We were just having breakfast. Join us!"

My mother rises too, her earlier tension melting away as she embraces Mrs. Pierce, who comes bearing a beautifully wrapped basket of pastries and what looks like a vintage bottle of wine. The two women exchange kisses on both cheeks, murmuring compliments and pleasantries, their friendship a warm, familiar thing that normally makes me smile.

Today, I can barely register it.

I've stood up. I'm not even sure when I did. My body just... moved, like a puppet responding to invisible strings, because that's what you do when guests arrive. You stand. You smile. You pretend everything is fine.

But everything is not fine.

Nikolai and Ethan are in the same room.

Nikolai. And Ethan.

The man who shattered my heart and the man who's trying to put it back together, existing in the same space, breathing the same air, and I'm standing here in the middle of it like a deer caught in headlights, except the headlights are two pairs of eyes and one of them is mismatched and burning into the side of my face even though I refuse to look at him.

My heart is racing so fast I can feel it in my throat. My palms are sweating. My stomach is doing this horrible flip-flop thing like I might actually throw up right here on the antique Persian rug my mother loves so much.

This is too much. This is all too much.

I haven't even recovered from whatever the hell Nikolai meant about someone trying to kill him—I haven't even begun to process that bomb—and now Ethan is here, walking toward me with that beautiful smile on his beautiful face, and I'm supposed to act like a normal human being who isn't currently drowning in a sea of panic and confusion and guilt.

Behind Ethan, Violet trails in like she's being dragged to a funeral. She's wearing a pale blue sundress that matches her eyes, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she looks approximately as thrilled to be here as I feel.

She catches my eye and gives me a little wave. "Hey, Daph. Nice decor. Very... pink."

"Violet," Mrs. Pierce warns, but Violet just shrugs.

"What? It's a compliment. I like pink. Pink is good."

Ethan reaches me in seconds, his eyes bright, his smile wide, and he's holding another bouquet of flowers—pink roses again, my favorite, because he pays attention, because he's thoughtful, because he's perfect.

"These are for you," he says, and before I can say a single word, he leans down and kisses me.

Deeply.

His hand cups the back of my head, holding me in place, and his lips move against mine with a familiarity that should be comforting, should make me melt into his arms like I usually do, should make me feel safe and loved and cherished.

But today, my feelings are everywhere. Scattered. Chaotic. I can't get my shit together.

I kiss him back because that's what I'm supposed to do, because he's my fiancé, because I love him, I do, but even as his lips move against mine, I can feel it—a burning gaze from across the room, drilling into the side of my skull, and I know without looking that Nikolai is watching.

"Awwn... gross."

The voice cuts through the moment like a knife, dramatic and bored all at once.

Violet.

I can't see her because my eyes are squeezed shut—trying, desperately, to ignore the burning gaze of the man I'm trying so hard not to think about—but I hear the soft ouch that follows, which means her mother probably pinched her.

"Ow! Mom, what the hell?"

"Language," Mrs. Pierce hisses.

"I said 'hell,' that's not even a bad word—"

"Violet."

"Fine. Fine. I'll just sit here and be quiet and pretend I'm not witnessing a Hallmark movie in real time."

Ethan pulls back, and I try to smile at him. I really do.

But it must look like shit, because his brow furrows immediately, his eyes searching mine with that worried look he gets when he knows something's wrong but doesn't know what.

"Hey," he says softly, his thumb brushing my cheek. "You okay?"

No. No, I am not okay. I am the opposite of okay. I am so far from okay that okay is a distant speck on the horizon that I will never reach again.

But before I can figure out what to say, before I can even attempt to form words that won't make me sound like I've completely lost my mind, my father's voice booms across the room.

"Ethan! Mr. and Mrs. Pierce! Violet! Come, come—there's someone you absolutely must meet!"

I freeze.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.