Chapter 181: A Taste Of His Own Medicine
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Later that night, after Gigi and Skylar dropped me off with warm hugs and promises to text about dresses for Snow Ball, the mansion felt oddly quiet yet overwhelming. On the drive home, their laughter filled the car, and holiday lights whizzed past the windows in colorful streaks. But as soon as I walked through the front door, the warmth of their company evaporated, leaving me alone with the heaviness of unspoken thoughts.
When I got to the dining room, dinner was already laid out—an elegant, understated setup that had become the norm in this house. Crystal glasses sparkled in the chandelier light, silverware gleamed, and the aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted from the herb-crusted salmon.
Mom and Keith were already seated; Keith was loosening his tie, looking both tired and affectionate as Mom poured him some wine. And of course, there was Adrien, sitting right next to me, looking annoyingly put-together in a dark sweater that made his eyes pop. He looked up as I walked in, a soft, searching expression flickering across his face, but I quickly averted my gaze and mumbled a quick hello as I took my seat.
Keith jumped straight into talking about the upcoming end-of-year gala—just three days away, and the stress was evident in the lines on his forehead.
"The venue confirmed the string quartet, thank God," he said, cutting into his salmon with a precision that screamed both focus and frustration.
"But the florist is in some kind of crisis over the white orchids, and the caterer keeps calling about dietary restrictions. Honestly, if one more person tells me they’re gluten-free and vegan but still want the foie gras..." He trailed off with a chuckle, reaching for Mom’s hand across the table.
Mom laughed and squeezed his fingers. "You’ll get through it, love. You always do. And it’ll turn out beautifully—everyone will be raving about it for weeks."
Adrien chimed in with agreeable sounds, asking about the guest list and keeping the conversation going, but I wasn’t really tuning in. My fork moved mindlessly through the food, flakes of salmon crumbling apart under the tines as Gigi’s voice echoed in my mind: I refuse to be a cheater... I’d have to make a choice... set boundaries even if it meant heartache.
With every bite, those words sank deeper, tightening the guilt in my chest. Ethan’s face kept flashing in my memory—his gentle smile from when he kissed me goodbye, the way he always checked on me without being pushy, the quiet safety he offered without any strings attached.