Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When he finally pulled up, he saw me standing by the entrance and his voice was sharp with irritation. "Jesus Christ, Harper. It's freezing. Why didn't you wait inside? What are you doing standing out in the wind?"

Was he worried about me? Or just pissed that I'd interrupted his evening? I couldn't tell.

"I just thought you'd be here sooner," I said calmly.

He froze, a flash of guilt in his eyes. He looked away. "Sorry, the traffic on Fifth Avenue was a nightmare. I promise it won't happen again."

He opened his arms, spreading his Loro Piana cashmere coat to pull me into an embrace.

I held up a hand to stop him. The moment he got close, I smelled it―a mix of cheap hotel soap and a sickly sweet, fruity perfume covering up his usual Le Labo Santal 33.

"Let's just get in the car," I said flatly. "It's too cold."

I ignored his outstretched hand and got into the passenger seat.

Finn got in and casually tossed a Tiffany blue box into my lap. It was the ruby necklace he'd bought at the same auction as the ring―the kind of "consolation prize" you give a mistress or a business associate.

"Alright, don't be mad. I had your gift ready all along. I've just been so swamped with the IPO, my head's spinning," he said dismissively, as if I were a child throwing a tantrum.

"Finn, let's eat out for our anniversary this year." Every other year, he'd cooked for me at our apartment. Even when we were dirt poor, it might have been simple pasta, but he never forgot the gesture.

He stared straight ahead, starting the car. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

He agreed so quickly. Of course he did. It would save him time he could be using to appease the other girl.

"How about that new Asian fusion place in Soho?"

The car skidded slightly on the icy road. I pretended not to see his hand clench on the steering wheel. "It's snowing. Drive safe."

"Right." He seemed composed, showing no sign of weakness. "Why there all of a sudden?" he asked casually.

"Chloe, the new assistant at my firm, recommended it. Said the food is amazing and the vibe is great. Why?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

Finn let out a barely audible sigh of relief. "No reason."

The drive was silent except for the awkward jazz on the radio. I knew what he was nervous about. Girls like Chloe love to post about trendy, Instagrammable restaurants, and that place was all over her feed. I'd seen her stories from there more than once. And in the reflection of the window behind her, I could always make out the blurred figure of a man―a man I knew intimately, a man I had watched grow from a boy into who he was today.

When we arrived, the restaurant was packed despite the blizzard. The manager greeted Finn warmly, but his professional smile faltered for a second when he saw me on Finn's arm. It was quickly replaced by an even more enthusiastic one.

"You come here often?" I asked.

"Some clients like to discuss business in a more relaxed setting," he explained.

I had to admit, the corporate world had taught him how to keep a perfect poker face. If I didn't know him so well, I'd never have detected the guilt hiding beneath his calm exterior.

The waiter led us to the best table on the top floor. Each section of the restaurant had a different design, and this spot, with its glittering view of the Manhattan skyline, was Chloe’s favorite place for photos.

When we ordered, Finn confidently asked for the signature spicy seafood hot pot. Maybe the manager was busy, or maybe the waiter was just used to it. They brought out a bubbling pot of fiery red chili oil, filled with fresh shrimp paste.

Finn’s face dropped. He quickly called the waiter over and asked them to replace it with a mild broth and chicken. He kept glancing at me, only relaxing when he saw my expression was neutral.

Finn could never handle spicy food. When we were together, I always catered to his tastes. But on Chloe’s Instagram, every picture she posted from here was of a fiery red pot. I remembered her caption: [He can't eat spicy food, but he came with me anyway. So touched. #SpicyLove]

"I heard you bought a pink diamond called the 'True Love Diamond' at an auction recently. And that you had a wedding dress custom-made in Paris a year ago. Are they for me?" I asked, catching him completely off guard. His hand trembled, and his fork clattered against the plate.

"No, a very important client asked me to bid on them on his behalf," he said, waving the waiter over for a bottle of sparkling water.

I forced a smile, finally unable to hold it in anymore. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. "Finn, are you still going to marry me?"

He didn't even look up, answering like he was handling a question from a shareholder. "Of course. I promised you." He poured me a glass of water, perhaps sensing my mood, and added, "Harper, don't overthink it. Planning a wedding is a huge undertaking. I don't want to rush it. It only happens once in a lifetime."

I looked down at my phone, at the DM Chloe had sent me just a few hours earlier. She was wearing the pink diamond and the custom gown, smiling like a princess who had won the world.

Finn had said something similar a long time ago. Back when he had no money, his friends urged him to just marry me at City Hall, afraid I'd leave him for being poor. He had told them the same thing, with tears in his eyes, saying I'd been through so much with him, and that one day he'd give me a wedding that would make every girl in New York jealous, a grand reception at The Plaza Hotel.

But I knew he wasn't going to marry me anymore.