We step into the hallway and find Emily waiting, tapping her foot dramatically.
"Finally!" she exclaims. "I was about to send in a rescue team."
My sister is resplendent in a floor-length maroon gown with intricate beading across the bodice. Her hair is swept up in an elegant updo, and she's wearing our grandmother's diamond earrings.
"Em, it's just dinner at home," I say, laughing. "Not the Met Gala."
She flips me the bird but it's facing away from her. "First, it's pre-Christmas dinner, which is always special." Then she puts up her pointer finger. "Second, when do I ever get to dress up like this?" She twirls, the skirt billowing around her. "And third, I look fantastic."
"Can't argue with that," Bash says, offering her his other arm. "I'm the luckiest guy here, escorting the two most beautiful women."
Emily rolls her eyes but takes his arm. "Smooth talker."
"I try."
The three of us descend the stairs together, and I feel a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. The last time we all gathered for dinner, I ended up in the hospital. Hopefully, tonight ends differently.
The dining room is transformed. Mom has outdone herself, with the long oak table set with the good china and crystal, taper candles casting a warm glow over everything. A fire crackles in the corner fireplace setting the mood, and garlands of evergreen and twinkling lights frame the windows. It's magical and intimate, despite the lingering tension in the air.
My parents are already seated at opposite ends of the table, both dressed formally. Dad in a navy suit, Mom in a deep burgundy dress that makes her look ten years younger. They beam when they see us enter.
And then I see them—the Harpers, seated opposite our side of the table. Mr. and Mrs. Harper smile tightly, clearly uncomfortable, but making an effort. And Ethan, looking pale and drawn in a dark grey suit, his eyes fixed on his empty plate.
I freeze mid-step. Bash's arm tightens around mine, a silent question. I force a smile and keep moving.
"Good evening, everyone," I say, aiming for light and casual.
Mrs. Harper stands to greet us. "Charlotte, dear, you look lovely." She embraces me, her perfume—the same Chanel No. 5 she's worn since I was a child—enveloping me in familiar sweetness. "I am so terribly sorry about what happened," she whispers, her voice breaking slightly. "I had no idea what Olivia had done. I would never have allowed it."
I pat her back gently. "It's okay, Mrs. Harper. It wasn't your fault."
She pulls back, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "Still, in my own home..."
"Really, it's in the past now," I assure her, though the memory of my closing throat still haunts me.
Mrs. Harper moves to hug Sebastian next, surprising him slightly. "Thank you for taking care of our Charlie," she says warmly.
"Always," he replies, his voice steady and certain.
Emily receives her hug with grace, whispering something that makes Mrs. Harper laugh through her tears.
Mr. Harper approaches next, his tall frame stooped with what looks like genuine remorse. He wraps me in a fatherly embrace.
"I'm so sorry for what Olivia did," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. "Ethan should have known better than to bring someone like that into our lives. Into your life."
I swallow hard, catching Ethan's gaze across the room. He looks away first.
"Thank you, Mr. Harper."
As pleasantries are exchanged, I look towards Ethan again and notice his shoulders are hunched, his hands fidgeting with his napkin. He looks... broken.
Despite everything, I feel a pang of pity. Not for how he treated me. No, that wound has healed, but for what he's lost. His fiancée is gone, his family's disappointed, and he's clearly miserable.
I excuse myself from Bash's side and approach Ethan directly.
"Hi," I say quietly.
He finally looks up, and the naked remorse in his eyes catches me off guard. "Charlie," he says hoarsely. "I didn't think you'd speak to me."
