Page 82 of Not So Very Sensible

“No buts. You know I don’t love you.”

“But I love you. We can make this work.”

“No. No, we can’t.”

“But we only just had our engagement party. Everyone will think I’ve done something wrong if you break up with me.”

“And you have done something wrong. You’ve lied to everyone. And I admit I’ve been complicit in this, and I hate myself for it.”

“But you agreed!”

“I didn’t agree. In fact, I never actually said to you that I would marry you. I tried to save your family from embarrassment by not making a public spectacle, but you went on social media and started wearing a ring. I didn’t even give you that engagement ring. Where did you get it from anyway?”

She shrugged, her expression petulant. “I had a jewellery store reach out.”

“Unbelievable.” He crossed his arms, took a step back. “Is that why you posted about it on social media?” What kind of commission had she received for advertising that jewellery store?

“So what if I did?” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s because of that woman, isn’t it?”

“Even if there wasn’t another woman, I’d still hate myself for allowing myself to be manipulated into this. I’m sorry. I never should have agreed.”

“You’re sorry?” she screeched.

“Lucinda?” Her father stormed into the room, Christine trailing behind him, gaunt, hollow-eyed. “What’s happened?”

“He’s calling it off!” Lucinda pointed a blood-red fingernail at him. “He wants to end our engagement!”

“Our fake engagement,” he insisted.

“You can’t do that,” Don blustered. “You made an agreement.”

“I don’t believe I actually said I’d go through with it. I didn’t want to embarrass your family, and—”

“But you can’t do this.” Christine sank into a nearby seat, her face looking more hollowed out than ever. Chemo had a lot to answer for. “You had the engagement party only last week.”

“The fake engagement party,” he corrected her. “Christine, I’m sorry for hurting you, but—”

“But your mother and I …” She gasped, placed a hand on her heart.

“Mum!” Lucinda rushed to her side as misgiving filled his heart. Man, he didn’t want poor Christine having a heart attack.

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, I’m all right,” she said softly. She straightened, the disappointment in her eyes obvious. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so terribly sad about this.”

Don Steele’s eyes held a laser-like intensity. “Does your father know about this?”

Ethan’s chin jerked. “He knew I planned to speak to you.”

“The lying—”

Don went on a tirade that included various colourful descriptions of Ethan’s paternity, his integrity, his father’s lack of morals, and various other phrases that Ethan was fairly sure were anatomically impossible, as he defended his daughter, conveniently ignoring all the lies she’d told that had got them into this mess in the first place.

For a second, he could see what life with Lucinda would’ve been like. She, with her screaming childish tantrums; Ethan being forced to placate her, like her parents had always done.

This wasn’t healthy. This was toxic, and he was glad to get out. But first he needed to get some things straight.

“Can I remind you that the whole reason we’re in this mess is because your daughter lied to begin with. This is her fault. If she hadn’t lied, then none of this would be a problem.”