The waiter still stood nearby, clutching his order pad uncertainly.
I turned to him first.
“I won’t be ordering tonight. But I’d like to pay for my husband and myself.”
Lauren blinked quickly.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, we—”
“No,” I said gently. “It matters to me.”
Robert flushed slightly.
“Claire…” he murmured, hoping to smooth things over.
I looked at him softly but firmly.
“I’m not here to argue,” I said. “I’m here to be honest.”
Then I turned toward Ethan.
“My son,” I said quietly, the words suddenly heavy, “I didn’t come tonight for your wife to decide whether I belong. I came because you invited me.”
Ethan swallowed, his expression tightening.
“I didn’t want drama,” he said quickly.
“That’s the problem,” I replied. “You’re so afraid of drama that you allow cruelty—as long as it stays quiet.”
Lauren laughed dismissively.
“Cruelty? Claire, you’re being dramatic. I simply ordered what made sense.”
“What made sense,” I repeated slowly, “was announcing that I’m not family?”
Patricia leaned back in her chair.
“Well, maybe if you didn’t take everything so personally…”
“I’m his mother,” I said calmly, meeting her gaze.
“If that’s not personal, what is?”