Chapter 4: The Unraveling

Nathaniel was in his early twenties, tall and handsome, with sharp green eyes and a kind of quiet, noble air. Maybe it was the spiked champagne, but his eyes looked a little glazed and his face was flushed. Of course, it could’ve just been anger.

Up close, I could see the freckles across his nose, the way his hair curled at the ends. He looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a novel, not in a farmhouse bedroom with me.

We stared at each other.

I tried to read his expression, but he was a closed book. He glanced away, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt.

After checking me out for a while, Nathaniel awkwardly looked away.

He cleared his throat, staring at the floor as if it held all the answers.

I blinked. What was that supposed to mean?

Was he disappointed? Or just shy? I couldn’t tell.

I’m not ugly, am I?

I caught my reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, hair a little messy from the veil. Not a beauty queen, but I cleaned up well.

Mom always said that while I might not be drop-dead gorgeous, I was definitely pretty. Because I looked good and was good at having kids, Mrs. Whitmore hired me.

She used to pinch my cheeks and say, "You’ve got the kind of face that brings luck." I never knew if she meant it, but I liked hearing it all the same.

After a while, Nathaniel finally said in a low voice, "I… I won’t live with you. I suggest you go home tomorrow. The engagement gifts can be your compensation. If you think it’s not enough, I’ll add more cash and jewelry."

His voice was steady, but I could hear the strain underneath. He was trying to be polite, but I could tell he was desperate to escape.

Even now, he was still fighting it.

I stretched lazily. "Why isn’t anyone making a fuss in our bridal suite? When my brothers and sisters got married, there was always a crowd making a racket."

I remembered how my cousins would bang on pots and pans, tossing rice and shouting jokes until the newlyweds begged for mercy. It was a tradition, and I almost missed the chaos.

Especially my oldest sister—when she married into a military family, it was wild.

They practically turned the place upside down, and my brother-in-law still tells the story every Thanksgiving.

"Is it that, in the Whitmore family, you’re not allowed to make noise in the bridal suite?" I asked, genuinely curious.

I couldn’t help but tease him a little. The Whitmores were so proper, it was almost funny.

Nathaniel’s face turned even redder. "You… do you only care about these little things? I’m telling you to go home, did you hear me!"

He sounded almost panicked, like he was losing control of the situation.

I ignored him and slowly took off my wedding dress and tiara. Those things were heavy; after wearing them all day, I was exhausted.

The relief was immediate. My shoulders ached, and I let out a sigh as I hung the dress over a chair.

Nathaniel’s face was as red as a fire truck. "You, you, you… why are you taking off your clothes… I’m warning you, even if you try to force me, I won’t give in!"

He looked like he might faint, clutching the edge of the dresser for support.

"..."

I rolled my eyes. "What are you thinking? I’m just tired, so I’m taking off the outer dress!"

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. Men could be so dramatic sometimes.

After that, I walked over to the table, feeling refreshed. There were four types of delicate pastries, all looking delicious.

The smell made my stomach rumble. I reached for a pecan tart, savoring the buttery crust and sweet filling.

I picked up a pecan tart and started eating. "I’m a little hungry. Are you?"

My voice was casual, but I was genuinely curious. I’d barely eaten all day, and the sugar hit me like a wave.

I’d only had some mac and cheese before leaving home and was already starving.

Mom had insisted I eat something, but nerves got the better of me. Now, with the ceremony over, I could finally relax.

Nathaniel shook his head angrily. "I’m not hungry!"

He crossed his arms, but his stomach growled loud enough for both of us to hear. I pretended not to notice.

But from the look of him, he probably hadn’t eaten all day either.

His eyes kept darting to the pastries, and I could tell he was tempted.

After I ate two pastries and felt almost full, I picked up another and stuffed it into his mouth.

I grinned as I held out the tart. "Eat. It’s miserable to be hungry."

He must have been tempted watching me eat, because when I fed him, he didn’t spit it out—he chewed and swallowed it.

He glared at me, but didn’t refuse. I’ll take that as a win.

Once I’d eaten and drunk my fill, I felt more energetic.

I wiped my hands on a napkin and stretched, feeling the tension melt away.

"Honestly, you’re really overthinking things," I commented.

I tried to sound gentle, not mocking. I could see how anxious he was, and maybe a little kindness would help.

Though Nathaniel didn’t want to engage, he still shot back, "What do you know!"

He sounded defensive, like a teenager arguing with his parents.

I said, "It’s simple logic! Mrs. Whitmore—no, Mom—said that as long as you leave a child for the Whitmore family, you’ll be free to do as you please. Why not just do it? Of all the things you could do wrong, not having a kid is the worst!"