Chapter 2

1

My father grows corn in Nebraska.

Eight hundred acres, rented. After paying for seeds, fertilizer, and irrigation all year, there’s barely a penny left. My mother sets up a stall at the Norfolk farmers' market, selling handmade jam and pickles. Four dollars a jar; selling twenty in a day is considered a good day.

Mom always says, “Your father’s greatest work isn't the corn in the fields; it’s you.”

I got into Columbia University on a full scholarship. The day I got my acceptance letter, my father drove that Ford pickup truck with two hundred thousand miles on it around town three times, rolling down the window to yell at everyone he passed, “My daughter is going to New York!”

Later, I met Holden at Columbia.

He was at the Wharton School, and his father was the founder of Montgomery Capital. When he was pursuing me, he would stand downstairs at my dorm every morning holding two lattes.

My roommate said, “Claire, the way this guy walks makes it look like the whole world owes him a ‘yes.’”

But back then, I didn't understand.

I thought his attentiveness was love.

We were together for seven years. Five years as a “girlfriend,” two years as a “fiancée.” The engagement ring was a Tiffany’s―three carats, emerald-cut. He knelt on one knee on the Bow Bridge in Central Park. Passersby clapped. I cried and said, “Yes.”

I thought that was the best moment of my life.

Looking back now, that was the moment I started losing myself.