Chapter 2

On day three of "Mrs. Holloway" for a Week, Grant's parents hosted Sunday dinner.

His mother texted me the time and told me to bring the bracelet.

That was all. She didn't ask how I was or why I had moved out.

The Holloway bracelet was a diamond tennis bracelet that had gone to every Holloway son's wife for four generations. Diane had fastened it around my wrist herself on my wedding day.

But I knew she had never thought I deserved it.

If Grant hadn't insisted on marrying me, that bracelet never would have ended up on my wrist.

I remembered the first time he brought me home to meet his family. In front of a whole table of relatives, Diane said I came from nothing and wasn't the kind of girl a Holloway should marry.

I had wanted to disappear.

Then Grant reached over and took my hand. His voice was calm, and it left no room for argument.

"She's the woman I love."

"Who I marry isn't anybody else's decision."

I fell in love with him all over again that night. For years afterward, whenever things between us got hard, I remembered that moment and told myself that was who he really was.

Now, remembering it only hurt.

I held the velvet box so tightly that the corners dug into my palm. Tonight, I would give the bracelet back.

When I arrived, Summer was already sitting in my chair.

She was right next to Grant, in the seat I had taken every Sunday for seven years.

There was no place set for me.

I stood in the doorway while everyone at the table looked at me, and no one said a word. Finally, the housekeeper brought a spare chair from the hallway and squeezed it in at the far end of the table.

Diane smiled at me.

"Since Summer's Mrs. Holloway this week, we're all playing along tonight. You're young, Nina. Don't be so uptight about it."

Grant had also asked the kitchen to change the entire menu to suit Summer.

I'm severely allergic to peanuts.

I had been married into this family for seven years, and there was still peanut brittle on the Holloways' dessert tray every time we came over. In the beginning, Grant used to remind them. Later, he only told me to avoid it myself.

"You know what you can't eat, babe. Just skip it."

But Summer doesn't eat cilantro.

So in all those years, cilantro had never appeared on the Holloways' table. Not once.

Tonight, there were a few flecks of it in the soup. Grant set down his spoon and had the housekeeper take the whole pot back to the kitchen to be made again.

"The smell makes her sick."

I looked down at the bowl in front of me.

My allergy could send me to the emergency room, and I was told to be careful. She simply didn't like the smell of something, and the soup was remade.

No one at the table thought there was anything wrong with that.

Last year was the first time they had put Summer in my seat. When I walked out, Grant ran after me. He caught me in the driveway and held me until I stopped trying to pull away.

"It's just a chair. It doesn't mean anything," he said. "That seat is always going to be yours."

This year, I wasn't even allowed to sit beside him.

Before dessert, Diane wanted a family photo. She looked at my wrist.

"Take the bracelet off for a minute," she said. "Let Summer wear it for the picture. It'll look more complete."

Summer waved her hands. "Oh, no, I couldn't."

But she never actually pulled her hand back.

Before I could say anything, Grant took hold of my wrist and started undoing the clasp.

He was in a hurry, and he didn't look at me once. The clasp caught the thin skin on the inside of my wrist and scraped it open. It stung so badly that I sucked in a breath.

He didn't notice.

He held the bracelet up to the light and checked every stone to make sure none of the diamonds had come loose.

Then he fastened the bracelet around Summer's wrist himself, slowly and carefully.

"She'll get it back in seven days," he said. "It's jewelry, Nina. It's not worth fighting over."

For the photo, Summer stood next to Grant. His parents sat in front of them. I was placed at the very end of the row, barely inside the frame.

The photographer asked everyone to move closer together.

Grant rested his hand on Summer's waist.

Then he looked back at me.

He was waiting for me to stop him.

I didn't give it to him.

Instead, I turned to his mother.

"You don't need to give the bracelet back."

Diane's smile disappeared.

"We were all having a nice time, and you have to say something like that? Embarrassing your elders in front of the whole family? That's very immature, Nina."

I didn't argue. I had nothing left to say to her.

That night, one of Grant's cousins, who had no idea what was going on, posted the picture in the family group chat.

[Finally got everybody together this year! ❤️]

Aunts and cousins replied one after another, saying Summer and Grant looked great together. Someone asked if the two of them were finally going to make it official.

Diane didn't correct anyone.

She only reacted to the message with a red heart.

I looked at that heart for a long time.

For seven years, I had sent that family birthday messages and holiday photos. I had congratulated every cousin on every new baby and every new job. I had never missed a single Sunday dinner. And no one in that chat had even noticed that the woman standing next to Grant was not his wife.

Then I quietly tapped Leave this Conversation.

Grant noticed almost immediately. He texted me.

[Nice performance this time.]

[Let's see how long you can keep it up.]

He didn't know.

I wasn't keeping anything up.

I was taking back every trace of myself I'd ever left with the Holloways, one piece at a time.