Three Years in Europe for Everyone—Except His Pregnant Wife Chapter 03

Three Years in Europe for Everyone—Except His Pregnant Wife Chapter 03

Rae’s tears streamed harder.

“Yvonne, that’s not what I meant at all. I didn’t think this through. It’s all my fault.”

Ethan’s face softened with stronger protective sympathy for Rae, and he raised his voice to snap at me.

“Yvonne Thorne, that’s enough!”

He almost never called me by my full name.

When he did, it meant he was furious.

Ethan’s mom grabbed his arm in a fake, placating gesture.

“Alright, pregnant women get petty. Go easy on her.”

Ethan’s dad sounded so well-meaning, like he was looking out for my best interests.

“Yvonne, a wife needs to be more gracious.”

“Don’t throw a fit just because Ethan isn’t bringing you on his Paris work posting.”

“Overseas travel’s rough when you’re expecting. We’re only looking out for you.”

“If you don’t eat or sleep well over there, it could harm the baby.”

“You stay safe stateside. Once we leave, have your mom come stay and look after you through the pregnancy.”

“It’s what’s best for you.”

A cold smirk tugged at my lips.

“Such fine-sounding words.”

His face darkened instantly.

Rae jumped in, playing the understanding peacemaker.

“Uncle, you’ve got a touchy stomach. The doctor said you really ought to eat dinner before eight every night.”

“It’s getting late. Let’s head out for dinner.”

Ethan took the cue immediately. He rested one hand on his dad’s back and the other on his mom, herding them toward the door.

“Right. Let’s head out for dinner as a family.”

They were all gone.

And “family”, in his mouth, didn’t include me.

My heart was completely broken beyond repair. Strangely, I felt almost no grief at all.

Half an hour later, a text popped up from Ethan.

Ethan: [What do you feel like eating? I’ll grab you a to-go order.]

Ethan: [I came down pretty hard on you earlier. Don’t take it to heart.]

I huffed, tossing my phone aside.

I closed my eyes and tried to rest.

Less than thirty minutes passed, and Rae texted me.

Attached was a photo of leftover dinner plates.

“Yvonne, see if anything here catches your eye. I can box something up for you.”

“Ethan ordered all my favorites tonight—spicy Cajun-style entrees, so fiery and delicious.”

I stared at the picture, dishes glistening with bright red chili oil. A raw, jagged pain tore through my chest.

My mind drifted back seven years.

Back then, I lived for spicy food. I couldn’t get enough of it.

But Ethan hated spicy dishes. To suit his tastes…

For two years of dating and five years of marriage, seven whole years, I’d stuck to bland, mild food.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t stand spicy food.

He just hadn’t been willing to make that compromise for me.

I pulled up my social feed. Rae’s newest post sat at the top.

The four of them were in a private dining booth, grinning wide like some perfect little family of four.

Her caption read: Off to Paris tomorrow! Our last dinner stateside. The person who loves me most ordered an entire table of my favorite food. I’m so blessed!

I knew she’d posted it just for me to see.

She wasn’t even hiding her cards anymore.

Moments later, another photo came through from her.

Ethan looked half-drunk, passed out on her bed.

She texted me.

Rae: [Ethan’s had a bit too much to drink. You’re pregnant, so you definitely shouldn’t be around alcohol fumes.]

Rae: [Uncle and Auntie had me bring him back to my place. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him for you.]

That “care” dripped with unmasked provocation.

I shot one text back.

Yvonne: [No need to do me any favors. Ethan Grant is all yours.]