Nathaniel sighed again, looking tired.
His stepmother's nostrils flared. "You brought… her." She stared Clara up and down, her expression flickering between disbelief and offense. "You were supposed to come alone. I told you it was a private family memorial."
"It's for my father," Nathaniel said flatly. "And Clara is with me. She's my fiancée; of course I'm going to come with her."
Vivian stepped forward, her voice sugar-sweet but her smile strained. "Nathaniel… why would you bring her? This dinner isn't… appropriate for guests." Her smile was saccharine, but the look she gave Clara was like looking at a piece of dirt on a shoe.
Clara's stomach twisted, but Nathaniel shifted slightly, placing himself more firmly between her and them. He wasn't raising his voice, wasn't being dramatic—just quietly firm in that way he always was.
"I invited her," he said. "End of story."
