Chapter 2

I picked the most expensive appetizer on The Gilded Spoon's menu.

Oysters with some fancy foam.

Marky looked a little green when I ordered them.

He' d been late, almost thirty minutes.

"Sorry, babe, got held up with a client," he' d said, kissing my cheek.

He smelled faintly of a perfume that wasn' t mine. Something cheap and sweet.

Like Jess' s.

"Big spender tonight, huh?" I said, swirling my wine.

He puffed out his chest. "Only the best for my girl."

His suit looked new. Probably rented.

I' d offered to buy him a really good one last month.

A real designer suit, not a knock-off.

He' d waved it off, said he was "doing just fine."

The oysters arrived. He watched me eat one, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"So," he started, clearing his throat.

Here it comes, I thought.

"Chloe, we need to talk."

Classic.

"I' ve been doing a lot of thinking," he went on.

I sipped my wine.

"And, well, things change. People change."

"Get to it, Marky," I said, my voice colder than I intended.

He flinched.

"It' s Jess," he blurted out. "She' s… she' s pregnant."

My wine glass stopped halfway to my lips.

Pregnant. Jess. With Marky' s child.

"And we' re getting engaged," he added, like it was an afterthought.

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"She' s ambitious, Chloe. She gets me. We' re going places."

He implied I wasn' t ambitious. Me.

I, who was trying to build something from scratch, away from my family' s name.

A laugh bubbled up, but I swallowed it.

Stunned? A little. Hurt? Surprisingly, not as much as I expected.

Mostly, I felt a sudden, sharp clarity.

I put my fork down.

"Well, Marky," I said, my voice cool and even. "Congratulations."

He looked relieved. Too soon.

"Waiter?" I called, raising my hand slightly.

The waiter hurried over.

"Could you bring the bill, please? And split it. I' ll pay for my share now."

Marky' s eyes widened. "Chloe, no, I said it was my treat-"

"Don't be silly, Marky. You have a baby on the way. You need to save your money."

I pulled out my wallet.

Took out the Amex Black Card.

The waiter' s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

I handed it to him. "Just my food and drinks, please."

He scurried off, glancing back at the card, then at me.

Marky was staring. "What… what is that?"

"It' s a credit card, Marky," I said sweetly.

The waiter returned, bill folder in hand, looking reverent.

I signed, added a generous tip.

"Thank you," I said to him. Then I stood up.

"Enjoy your meal, Marky. And tell Jess I wish her all the best."

I walked out.

I heard him hiss, "My share? How much is my share?" as the door closed behind me.

I almost smiled. The oysters alone were probably more than his "luxury car salesman" commission for a week.