“You’ve settled in?” Vivian asked.
It was not really a question.
“I’ve been shown Ethan’s room,” I said.
Jason smiled over his wineglass. “A romantic honeymoon suite, I’m sure.”
Vivian’s fork paused against her plate.
“Jason,” she said.
He lifted one shoulder. “What? We’re all adults here.”
I kept my eyes on my food.
Jason seemed to enjoy silence only when he was the one creating it.
“So, Claire,” he continued, “what was it like?”
I looked up. “What was what like?”
“Marrying a man who couldn’t look back at you.”
The question was smooth, but something beneath it was sharp.
I thought of Ethan’s eyes opening. His voice brushing against the air.
Don’t trust Jason.
“It was sad,” I said truthfully.
For the first time, Jason’s smile faltered slightly.
Vivian looked at me.
I continued, “Not because of me. Because no one should have to be spoken about as if they’re already gone.”
A quiet settled over the table.
Jason tapped one finger against the stem of his glass. “That’s very sentimental.”
“Maybe.”
“Sentiment is dangerous in families like this.”
Vivian set down her fork. “So is arrogance.”
Jason’s mouth curved again, but his eyes hardened.
I watched them both and understood something important: whatever battle lived inside the Thornton family, it had begun long before I arrived.
After dinner, a housekeeper named Elena led me to a bedroom two doors down from Ethan’s.
“This is yours, madam,” she said.
The room was beautiful, with pale blue walls, velvet curtains, and a fireplace carved from white stone. My suitcase sat near the foot of the bed, looking small and embarrassed by all the elegance around it.
“Please don’t call me madam,” I said. “Claire is fine.”
Elena smiled faintly. “Mrs. Thornton, then.”
I almost laughed. “That may be worse.”
Her smile grew a little warmer.
As she turned to leave, I asked, “Has Ethan’s room always been guarded so closely?”
Elena stopped.
