Chapter 19

MAY. "Hey, brother," Cole says, clapping Ethan's shoulder as he settles in beside me, encircling my waist with his large arm. "It's been a while. Can't say I missed you," Ethan says with a charming smile, fingers tugging tighter around my waist. He's still very tense. I feel it in the way he holds me. I want him to relax, make him feel like he's not alone; make him understand that I'm here with him and we're in this together, and if need be, Rachel can sit on the porch and breathe if she finds our apartment too *confined* for her. So I reach around him, wrapping my arm around his waist too. He pauses mid-sentence and gazes down at me with something new in his eyes. "You've been screening my calls, so I dropped by to see if you were alive," Rachel remarks, tossing herself on the couch. A sharp breath escapes her. "Oh, I knew it. This is so comfortable. The outlook is different, but your taste hasn't changed at all." Ethan says nothing in response, his only sign of annoyance being the slight tensing in his muscle. Rachel doesn't notice this. She crosses her ankle over her knee and looks up at us. "Where are the servants? I'd like a glass of Château--" "We are not a family that drinks," I cut in sweetly, smiling. "I could serve dinner or if you'd like something else before that, I can make you a cup of tea. Or lemonade. It is quite refreshing." Rachel's brows furrow. "It's a little too early for dinner. And lemonade? Hard pass. It is disgusting. I'll take coffee while we catch up." Her blue eyes narrow at me. "Black." Now, she's just being annoying. Anna says I make the best lemonades. "Sure, I'll be right back." As I walk to the kitchen, Rachel's bewildered voice reaches me. "Seriously? No servants?" I make a face, mimicking her in a falsetto. Servants. Why in the world would we need servants? I have hands, and the last thing I need is strangers lurking about in a house I'm still trying to familiarise myself with. I slam the kettle on the counter a little too hard, and I scowl at the cups. For Ethan, I'll put up with her. It's hard to believe she's Harriet's grandchild as well. Heaven help me and my temper tonight. **** ETHAN. "She doesn't know?!" Rachel squeals, her dramatics vexing the hell out of me. "Could you not yell?" I mutter, not bothering to hide my irritation. Cole leans back against the couch, crossing his ankle over his knee. "That's a little low, even for you, Chase. Tests and relationships do not go hand in hand. While I understand your reasons, I also believe there are easier ways to find out, rather than lying to her." Rachel snorts, long black nails drumming against the armrest. "Oh, please. She's never going to leave him because of something as puny as that. It's always the innocent-looking ones who are the worst. She'll show her true colors pretty soon. It is why we rich do not marry for love. We marry for convenience and business deals. It's hard to find genuine ones these days." "May isn't like that," I tell Rachel. "You don't know her." Rachel's perfect brow rises in a stern look she's had since we were children. "And I suppose you know her way more than we do. You met her yesterday, not so?" She's just trying to get under my skin, as usual. Between our families, there's always been an unspoken tension. My real last name isn't Chase. Chase is my second name. I took it up as my last name because I wanted nothing to do with my family, or the fortune my father left behind, that had been passed down from generation to generation. I built my business, refusing to accept my title as my father's heir. Rachel is the first child of my father's brother, and she doesn't like me much. She felt I was a dumbass who was throwing away everything good. Everything she could have had if her father hadn't been the second son. It also didn't help that I hadn't even struggled to start up my business the moment I left college. Granny said I had my father's wits and luck. "Watch it, Rach. It's my wife we're talking about. You don't like her..." I incline my head toward the door. "You can leave." Cole laughs. "Cool it, Chase. We're not here to argue. Rachel's speaking from a good place, I'm sure." He gives Rachel a pointed look that has her huffing a breath. "Yeah, whatever. I'll keep your secret," she murmurs halfheartedly. I nod. "Thank you." May comes from the kitchen then with two cups. The saucers are visibly shaking and my heart squeezes at the effort she's putting in for my family. I don't care what Rachel thinks. May is the best woman I could've come across in my life. *Yet, I lie to her.* She staggers a little as she takes a step past the threshold and I find that I am instantly on my feet, crossing the room to grab the cups from her. Should've gotten her boots instead. She doesn't look comfortable in those heels. "Thank you," Rachel says. When May drops a cup in front of her. "So, tell us about yourself, sister-in-law. What do you do for a living?" My wife settles on the couch beside me, her fingers curling in her lap as she smiles. "I'm a waitress." Rachel chokes on her coffee. "What? You wait tables in uniforms?" "Why? Is there something wrong with that?" May asks, though, her smile has faltered. My hand covers May's and I squeeze a little to calm her. Her gaze finds mine and she looks at me with doe eyes. "No no," Rachel responds and I look at her to see her lifting the cup to her lips. "I was only surprised. You don't find many women eager to work these days." I don't like the idea of May waiting tables in uniforms as well, but I have come to respect her choices. "Qualifications?" Rachel presses on. "Accounting, but I couldn't find a job. No one employs people who have no experience these days." "Oh, but I'm sure Ethan can fix something up for you. He's the C—" Cole coughs. "There are rules against bringing in spouses to the same workplace. I'm sure there's nothing Ethan could do about that, even if he wanted to." The conversation goes on for a while, and I put a stop to it at some point when I see May get progressively uncomfortable with Rachel's prying. Dinner is mostly silent. Cole and I talk about work and his family. May doesn't say much. She's been quiet since Rachel asked about her parents. She's pushing the food around her plate, her appetite probably gone. It goes on a moment longer and I drop the fork. "May, can I talk to you for a bit?" I whisper, inclining my head towards my room. She nods. "Excuse me," she says to our guests, ever the courteous one. "I'm sorry," I tell her when my door is shut behind us. "Rachel doesn't mean harm. She just..." May shakes her head. "It's alright. I understand. You already told me what to expect. I'm not mad at you or her." A slight pause. "It's just...I forgot it was today." Amber eyes rise to mine and I see tears in them. "It's their death anniversary today, my parents. I completely forgot about it. I didn't remember until she asked." Oh. She suddenly turns away from me, walking briskly to my bathroom. "I need a moment. I'll be right back." I reach out, catching her arm before she can walk off. A single tear slides down her cheek, followed closely by another. Her lips quiver and her nose has taken on a rosy hue. I wanted to tell her she could talk to me about it, and she didn't have to hide in the bathroom to grieve. But looking at her holding in her hurt and tears, all I want to do is offer her some comfort. I do. I tug gently, wrapping my arms around her. Her muscles tense, and her fingers grip my sleeve. I'm unsure if she wants to push me away or pull me closer. "It's okay," I murmur, tucking her head under my chin. "I understand. You can...lean on me. I won't speak a word if you don't need me to. You're not alone, May. I'm here and I'm never leaving." She buries her head in my shirt and her entire being shakes as she starts sobbing and sniffing, arms holding me like she's scared I'll leave her as well. I understand, having experienced this. It's been a long time, but there are days I remember my mother and I grieve. My father... there's grief as well, but it was easier to accept his than hers. We stand like that for a while, and when May pulls back from me, her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. "Sorry, I've ruined your shirt," she whispers, wiping at her cheeks. "I don't care about the shirt," I say, feeling rather...odd. Ever look at someone and feel the urge to touch them, smell them, feel their skin and maybe even breathe them in? I have no idea what to call this feeling. It has me leaning down and pressing a kiss to May's cheek. Her scent has me wrapped in a warm feeling, and my eyes shut as I murmur, "I only care about you." She breathes in sharply, but she doesn't push me away. Perhaps, that is what makes me take the next step. My lips find hers in a soft kiss. May jerks away, breaking it off... and then flees from my room.