They Both Wanted Me Every Day — Now They Both Want Sunday to Last Longer Without Me Chapter 10

They Both Wanted Me Every Day — Now They Both Want Sunday to Last Longer Without Me Chapter 10

The next day, Ethan came to the Sycamore House. This time, he’d wiped his shoes.

He stood under the magnolia tree, holding a box of pecan sandies—my old favorite.

“Lena. Let’s talk.”

I didn’t let him inside. “We can talk in the yard.”

He looked at me, softening his voice. “Yesterday—Nora was wrong. I already talked to her.”

“Is she coming to apologize?”

“She’s not in a good place right now.”

I laughed. “So you’re still covering for her.”

Ethan set the pecan sandies on the stone table. “I know you’re upset. But you have to understand—Nora’s worked her ass off to get where she is. She wanted to prove herself so bad, she just made a bad call.”

I asked, “How many bad calls does it take before it’s not just ‘a bad call’ anymore?”

He didn’t answer.

I kept going. “The birthday cake. The gown credit. Mia’s job. The exhibition name. Ethan, go ahead. Count them for her.”

He frowned. “You’re only remembering the bad things.”

“I remembered the good for seven years.”

“Then why can’t you remember one more time?”

I looked at the pecan sandies on the table. They used to be from my favorite bakery. But last year I told him they gave me a stomach ache. I’d stopped eating them.

He forgot.

“Because I don’t have it in me anymore.”

For the first time, panic flickered in Ethan’s eyes. “Lena. Our engagement is still on.”

I said, “It can be called off.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Call off the engagement. If you’ve got feelings for Nora, then go be with her. But don’t keep me hanging around like some old umbrella while you run off to shield someone else.”

Ethan pressed his hand against the stone table. “I don’t like her.”

I asked, “Then do you like me?”

He took too long to answer. Long enough for a magnolia leaf to fall.

I said it for him, “You don’t know anymore.”

He looked up. “Lena. Are you forcing me to admit something?”

“Admit you’re tired.”

His voice came out rough. “Fine. I am tired. You’re dramatic. You pick fights. You need constant handling. Nora is easy. She never makes things difficult for me.”

I nodded. “Good. You said it.”

His face changed as he realized. “Lena—that’s not what I meant.”

I pulled an envelope from under the table. “The dissolution papers. I’ve already signed mine. You sign yours and hand them to Frank.”

Ethan didn’t take them. “You’re going to regret this.”

I said, “My only regret is making you two too comfortable.”

When the dissolution notice reached the Sterlings, Ethan’s mother came to the Vance house herself. My dad came back too.

The living room was packed. The atmosphere was worse than the birthday party.

His mother slammed the papers on the table. “Lena Vance. You think an engagement is a joke?”

My dad looked at me. “Apologize to your Mrs. Sterling.”

I sat on the single sofa. “No.”

His mother laughed coldly. “Such a temper. Ethan’s been coddling you for years—made you forget your place.”

I said, “He didn’t have to.”

She choked. My dad’s voice went hard. “Lena.”

Ethan sat nearby, his face a mess. Nora was also there, standing behind him with swollen eyes.

His mother spotted her and got angrier. “And you. Ms. Hale. All those messy rumors—did you start them?”

Nora shook her head immediately. “Mrs. Sterling, I didn’t.”

Ethan moved to protect her. “Mom. It’s not Nora’s fault.”

His mother turned back to me like she’d found her angle. “See? Ethan’s got a good heart. He helps anyone who’s struggling. If you can’t even handle that, how are you supposed to be a Sterling wife?”

I said, “That’s exactly why I’m not going to be one.”

My dad slammed his teacup down. “That’s enough. The Sterlings are backing the Vances on this exhibition. And you pick now to call it off? You’re making us a laughingstock.”

I asked, “Why does the Vance exhibition need the Sterlings’ help?”

He froze.

His mother smiled. “Lena. You really think your family’s old things can make it into the exhibition on their own?”

I looked at her. “Can’t they?”

She picked up her tea. “Without Ethan’s sponsorship, who would even know your grandmother’s name?”

From the doorway came Frank’s voice, “Mr. Whitman has arrived.”

My dad stood up. His mother’s face went blank.

Arthur Whitman walked in, flanked by the exhibition director and the client. The director held a document.

“Miss Vance. We officially invite Eleanor’s Atelier to the exhibition. Prime space. Private room.”

His mother’s tea spilled on her skirt. Ethan whipped his head toward me. Nora whispered, “How is that possible?”

My dad’s face cycled through expressions. “Lena—when did you contact Mr. Whitman?”

I said, “I didn’t.”

Arthur looked at him, not harshly. “I’ve been waiting for Eleanor’s Atelier for a long time.”

The director handed me the document. “And as for that sponsorship letter that got held up—we’ll be taking that to the committee. From here on out, exhibition sponsorships won’t be handled through back channels.”

Ethan’s face went pale, inch by inch.

I looked at him. “You can’t hold it back anymore.”

That confrontation at the Vance house became a joke. Ethan’s mother left fast—didn’t even finish her tea. Nora followed behind Ethan, reaching for his sleeve a few times, but he pulled away.

My dad stayed in the living room, his expression complicated. “Lena. Why did you never tell the family about Eleanor’s Atelier?”

I asked, “Do you really want to know?”

He opened his mouth. After my mom died, he’d locked away everything Grandma Eleanor left behind. Said it was too painful to look at.

Later, when I was always with Ethan and Nora, he seemed relieved.

I said, “You don’t need to hear it now.”

He bristled. “I’m your father.”

“And she was my grandmother.”