Iris
I don’t see Arthur for three days.
But it’s not my fault that I can’t tell him the truth about everything before the party. He’s busy with meetings in another city, I’m busy with Miles, my residency work, and party planning, and even when we do find a rare chance to talk for five minutes on the phone just to say goodnight or catch up on each other’s day, I can’t bring myself to tell him the news when we’re not face–to–face,
So I keep telling myself that I’ll talk to him about it on the day of the party, before everyone arrives. It won’t be ideal, but I can’t wait any longer than that. I’m sure he’ll understand; I did try to tell him multiple times this week, but life just got in the way. It’s not like I wasn’t planning on telling him, or that I wanted to hide the truth.
The morning of the party, I wake up before my alarm even goes off and quickly shower and dress. I’m too nervous and excited to sleep any longer.
After a quick breakfast, more to fuel myself than anything, get to work deep cleaning the apartment even though I just cleaned yesterday. I dust every surface, clean the windows on both sides, sweep out the fireplace, and even clean inside cupboards and under furniture where I know no one will see.
I can’t take any risks; everything has to be absolutely perfect. This isn’t just any old dinner party–it’s my chance to prove myself to Arthur’s parents, to create some semblance of harmony between our two families, and to hopefully lay the groundwork for when I finally reveal the truth about being a Willford.
Around noon, I drop Miles off at Alice’s for the day–she insisted on watching him so I could focus on my preparations. After that, I head to the upscale grocery store in the city center. My list is extensive: fresh herbs, prime cuts of meat, specialty cheeses, all the ingredients for Leonard’s cocktail, and more.
It’s going to cost a lot of money. Probably way more than any sane person should spend on groceries, and I could get better deals at the little mom–and–pop grocery store that’s just down the street from my apartment.
But I need the food to be exquisite; after all, the last dinner party with Arthur’s parents was pretty much a disaster, and I can’t risk failing again. If I had more money, I’d probably hire a fucking chef to cook everything.
Then again, Leonard and Wendy might take issue even with that. They might claim that a proper housewife should prepare all the meals herself.
Even though I’m not a housewife.
I move through the aisles methodically, checking items off my list as I go. The cart fills quickly with everything I need for tonight’s dinner and more, just to be safe. At the produce section, I carefully select the ripest kiwis, making sure they’re absolutely perfect for Leonard’s drink
Finally, I wheel my overflowing cart to the checkout line. Salmon, chicken, fresh fruits and vegetables, crackers, artisan cheeses, expensive wines and liqueurs. I even pick up the ingredients to make several different desserts.
The total makes me wince internally, but I remind myself this is an investment in my future with Arthur. In Miles ‘future with his extended family.
“That’ll be $487.63,” the cashier, a young woman with a brunette ponytail, says cheerfully.
I hand over my card, already mentally calculating how much I’ll have left for next month’s expenses. It won’t be much, but I can make it work. But then the machine buzzes, and the cashier frowns.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined.”
1/1
Chapter 210
Iris
I don’t see Arthur for three days.
But it’s not my fault that I can’t tell him the truth about everything before the party. He’s busy with meetings in another city, I’m busy with Miles, my residency work, and Barty planning, and even when we do find a rare chance to talk for five minutes on the phone just to say goodnight or catch up on each other’s day, I can’t bring myself to tell him the news when we’re not face–to–face.
So I keep telling myself that I’ll talk to him about it on the day of the party, before everyone arrives. It won’t be ideal, but I can’t wait any longer than that. I’m sure he’ll understand; I did try to tell him multiple times this week, but life just got in the way. It’s not like I wasn’t planning on telling him, or that I wanted to hide the truth.
The morning of the party, I wake up before my alarm even goes off and quickly shower and dress. I’m too nervous and excited to sleep any longer.
After a quick breakfast, more to fuel myself than anything, I get to work deep cleaning the apartment even though I just cleaned yesterday. I dust every surface, clean the windows on both sides, sweep out the fireplace, and even clean inside cupboards and under furniture where I know no one will see.
I can’t take any risks; everything has to be absolutely perfect. This isn’t just any old dinner party–it’s my chance to prove myself to Arthur’s parents, to create some semblance of harmony between our two families, and to hopefully lay the groundwork for when I finally reveal the truth about being a Willford.
Around noon, I drop Miles off at Alice’s for the day–she insisted on watching him so I could focus on my preparations. After that, I head to the upscale grocery store in the city center. My list is extensive: fresh herbs, prime cuts of meat, specialty cheeses, all the ingredients for Leonard’s cocktail, and more.
It’s going to cost a lot of money. Probably way more than any sane person should spend on groceries, and I could get better deals at the little mom–and–pop grocery store that’s just down the street from my apartment.
But I need the food to be exquisite; after all, the last dinner party with Arthur’s parents was pretty much a disaster, and I can’t risk failing again. If I had more money, I’d probably hire a fucking chef to cook everything.
Then again, Leonard and Wendy might take issue even with that. They might claim that a proper housewife should prepare all the meals herself.
Even though I’m not a housewife.
I move through the aisles methodically, checking items off my list as I go. The cart fills quickly with everything I need for tonight’s dinner and more, just to be safe. At the produce section, I carefully select the ripest kiwis, making sure they’re absolutely perfect for Leonard’s drink.
Finally, I wheel my overflowing cart to the checkout line. Salmon, chicken, fresh fruits and vegetables, crackers, artisan cheeses, expensive wines and liqueurs. I even pick up the ingredients to make several different desserts.
The total makes me wince internally, but I remind myself this is an investment in my future with Arthur. In Miles ‘future with his extended family.
“That’ll be $487.63,” the cashier, a young woman with a brunette ponytail, says cheerfully.
I hand over my card, already mentally calculating how much I’ll have left for next month’s expenses. It won’t be much, but I can make it work. But then the machine buzzes, and the cashier frowns.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined.”
