Chapter 7
Snow had stuck by morning. Not much, just enough to make Milwaukee Avenue look clean for an hour.
I met Megan at the coffee shop on Division at nine. She got there first. No makeup, hands wrapped around a mug she wasn't drinking. She looked younger than in the photos Jake had tried to hide. Younger and tired.
She stood when I walked in.
"Lara," she said. "Thank you for coming."
I sat across from her. The shop smelled like espresso and wet wool. Outside, a plow scraped past.
"I didn't know about you," she said quickly, like she'd rehearsed it. "Not until last week. He told me you two were broken up. That it ended in October."
"It ended last Tuesday," I said.
Her face flushed. "He told me three weeks ago you both agreed to see other people. That it was mutual."
Three weeks. That word again. The same lie he'd told me, the same lie Thomas had tried to buy quiet with. My chest tightened, but I kept my hands still on the table.
"When did you start seeing him?" I asked.
"Three weeks ago," she said. "He came to the foundation dinner. We talked. He was charming. He said his father introduced us."
Thomas. Of course.
Megan reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "I brought this. I don't know if it helps. It's messages."
She showed me the screen. Jake's texts, time-stamped. my dad thinks you'd be great for the gala — Lara and I are done, long story, she's moved on — don't worry about photos, my dad's team handles it. The last one from two nights ago: just smile for the cameras, it's good for both of us.
I read each one. My throat was dry.
"He used us both," she whispered. "I said yes to the dinner because Thomas's assistant called me personally. I thought it meant something. I feel stupid."
"You weren't stupid," I said. "You were managed."
She looked up, surprised.
I left her with a napkin and my number written under hers. "If Thomas's team asks you to do anything else, tell me first."
Outside, the snow had turned to slush.
Jake was waiting by my apartment door at six. No coat, just a sweater, hands shoved in pockets. His hair was damp. He'd been waiting a while.
He straightened when he saw me. "Lara. You weren't answering."
"I answered Megan," I said, unlocking the door. I didn't invite him in. I left it half open and stayed in the hallway.
"She talked to you?" he said. "What did she say?"
"That you told her we were done in October."
He winced. "It wasn't like that. It got complicated."
"It was simple," I said. "You chose. For three weeks."
He stepped closer. "My dad — he blew it up. He told me to handle it quietly, then he went to the bar to find you. He told me to stay away that night. I did what he said."
So Thomas had sent him away. I remembered the bar, Jake nowhere in sight while his father leaned in and said your son chose poorly. That had been a choice too.
"I didn't tell him to go to your work," Jake said. "The PR thing, the dinner — that's him. He thinks he's fixing it."
"He's fixing his foundation's January benefit," I said. "You're the photo they needed."
Jake's voice dropped. "Come inside, please. Let's talk properly."
I didn't move. The hallway smelled like radiator heat and someone's cooking.
"You left me at Clover & Ash to have your father do it," I said. "You don't get to come back to my door because his version didn't take."
His eyes filled. For a second he looked like the guy I'd dated for two years, not the guy in the matching gala photos.
"Lara, I made a mistake," he said.
"You made a schedule," I said. "Three weeks, two women, one photographer."
May you like
He stared at the floor. Snow melted off his shoes onto the mat.
Behind me, my phone buzzed in my bag. I knew without looking it wasn't him.
