Chapter 1

Chapter 1

After ten years together, Finn still had no intention of proposing.

Late one night, I finally broke the silence. "Finn, do we... do we have a future? I mean, a legal one? Will we ever sign that piece of paper?"

He avoided my eyes, brushing me off with his typical Wall Street jargon. "Honey, you know the company is in its quiet period before the IPO. Any major life changes right now could be seen as instability and affect market sentiment. Let's just focus on getting this done, okay?"

I looked down at the photo on my iPhone.

In the picture, his new executive assistant, Chloe, was wearing the rare pink diamond that Page Six had dubbed the "True Love Diamond." She was also in a one-of-a-kind Vera Wang custom wedding gown from the Paris workshop.

She was smiling, nestled in his arms, and he was gazing back at her with pure adoration. The Loeb Boathouse in Central Park was their backdrop.

Looking at that picture, the ten years I'd spent hustling with him in New York suddenly felt like a terrible investment―a sunk cost I was no longer willing to hold.

Chloe, the new assistant, was a classic "American sweetheart." Blonde, blue-eyed, and perpetually bubbly, like a sorority cheerleader straight out of USC.

During rush hour in the lobby of our Hudson Yards office building, she struck up a conversation with me by the elevators, an iced oat milk latte in her hand. "Hey, Harper! Is Finn sending the driver for you today? You guys are seriously my #CoupleGoals. Ten years and you're still in the honeymoon phase. I'm so jealous."

My rival from a competing firm, Sarah, scoffed beside us. Adjusting her Birkin bag, she let out a slice of classic Manhattan cruelty. "Dated for ten years and still no ring? Harper, it's obvious he's not going to marry you. On Wall Street, we call that a non-qualified option that's expired worthless. It's pathetic to still be calling it true love."

My friend Mia shot back immediately. "Sarah, I guess you missed last month's Sotheby's auction news? Finn paid a fortune for that pink diamond. And I heard from a senior exec at his company that he flew to Paris a year ago to have a one-of-a-kind gown custom-made. Someone sounds bitter."

Sarah's face tightened. To save face, she tossed over her shoulder as she walked through the revolving doors, "We'll see about that."

Mia started to go after her, but I put a hand on her shoulder. "Let it go."

Sarah wasn't wrong. It really didn't seem like Finn wanted to marry me.

Stepping out of the skyscraper, I realized a blizzard had hit Manhattan. An arctic blast cut through my Burberry scarf, a biting, bone-deep cold. I scanned the gridlocked traffic on Sixth Avenue, but I didn't see the familiar black Range Rover. I glanced at my phone.

His iMessages used to blow up my screen. Now, our chat was just a string of sterile notifications.

[Gotta work late tonight on the IPO files. Just grab an Uber. Expense it to the company.]

I took a sharp breath of cold air and called him.

It took him nearly a minute to pick up. "Hey, Harper. What's up?"

His voice was unusually hoarse. I heard a soft, feminine moan in the background before it was quickly silenced, as if someone had been shushed.

I pretended not to notice. "What are you doing?"

There was a rustling sound, like fabric rubbing together. Finn's tone became rushed and impatient. "In the office. Working. If it's not urgent, I've gotta go."

"Wait," I interrupted. "Do you remember what today is?"

Sudden, dead silence on the other end.

I didn't give him a chance to refuse. "Come get me. I'll be waiting downstairs."

Then I hung up.

While waiting, I saw Chloe wave goodbye to me with a cheerful smile. She ran towards a boy waiting on the corner, the boyfriend she always complained was annoying her. His cheeks were red from the cold, but he broke into a huge grin and pulled a steaming container of chicken over rice from a halal cart out from inside his jacket.

I'd heard Chloe mention in the breakroom that they were struggling, sharing a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. But love isn't measured in dollars.

I remembered when Finn and I first graduated from NYU. That was when we were most in love. He'd meet me after work and always bring me something to eat―a dollar slice of pizza or a hot pretzel from a street vendor. I'd scold him for wasting money when we were barely making rent in Brooklyn.

He would just smile sheepishly and say, "I just... I see this stuff and I think of you. I want you to have something you like in this crazy city."

Back then, sitting on the hard plastic seats of an MTA subway car, completely broke and dealing with shitty internships, I was happy.

Later, Finn's tech company took off. The subway turned into an Uber Black, which then became a chauffeured luxury car. But he never brought me anything again. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore.

It's a fifteen-minute drive from his Wall Street office to my building.

I waited in the blizzard for two hours.