Chapter 6: Old Wounds, New Lies

Rush hour on Lake Shore Drive. I sat in the back of Ethan’s Maybach, pressed against the door, watching the Chicago skyline blur past. Another student was with us—a bespectacled guy named Mark, who wouldn’t stop talking.

“Professor Blake, is this really a Maybach? S-Class? Two hundred grand?”

Ethan grunted, eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel so tight the veins stood out.

Mark turned to me. “Sophie Mitchell, right? We did a group project once—Macroeconomics? You live near Northwestern Memorial too?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. My family’s there a lot for treatments. It’s just easier to rent close by.”

He brightened. “Rent’s crazy around there—three grand for a studio, right? Anyway, I just landed a job at Citadel. Quantitative finance. Gonna be pulling in, like, twenty, thirty grand a month.”

I nodded, still polite. He kept staring. “Uh, thanks, but I’m really just here for the hospital cafeteria’s Jell-O.”

Ethan chuckled under his breath—a sound I hadn’t heard in years.

Mark got bolder. “I think we’d be a great match. Want to grab coffee sometime? By the way, you seem really innocent—never dated before?”

My gaze flicked to Ethan in the rearview. Memories hit—my first kiss with Ethan, his ears burning red, the way he looked at me like I was both his undoing and his salvation. “Sorry…I already have a boyfriend.”

Relief prickled through me—Ethan would know I’d moved on. But the car screeched to a halt. I hit the window, wincing. Ethan unbuckled, reaching for me, but I flinched away. “Professor Blake, I’m fine.”

His hand froze, jaw flexing. Mark’s phone clattered to the floor. “What’s with that Uber driver?”

At the hospital, I jumped out fast, nearly tripping. Shane was waiting in his gray windbreaker, kicking a soda can. “Sophie, you’re late! The old man’s been telling war stories for hours.”

I linked arms with Shane, heading inside. He’d heard enough of my Ethan tales to know the score. He leaned in, exaggerated Southern drawl: “Your… old flame?”

I nodded. “Told him you’re my boyfriend. Play along.”

He grinned, then, noticing Ethan still watching, I stood on tiptoe and kissed Shane’s cheek. He stiffened, whispering, “Damn, Sophie, this is Illinois, not Alabama!”

“I’ll make you dinner for a month.”

“Deal.”

Shane slung his arm around me. The Maybach’s engine revved as Ethan peeled away.

Inside, I shoved Shane off. “Ungrateful brat,” he muttered. “Still hung up on Blake?”

I shook my head, then headed for Grandfather’s room.

Later, at Whole Foods, the place was chaos—kids darting between carts, someone arguing over organic kale, Taylor Swift blasting overhead. Shane demanded ribs, steak, pigs in a blanket. I trailed after him, shopping cart in tow.

A voice behind me: “Sophie?”

I turned. Rachel and Ethan stood by the organic veggies, cart full. They looked like the perfect couple, picking out dinner ingredients. Ethan’s eyes locked on mine, unreadable.

Rachel linked her arm through mine, perfume overwhelming. “Sophie, I’m so happy for you! How long have you and Mr. Gray been together?”

Before I could answer, Shane drawled, “Four years.”

Rachel gasped. “Four years? That means…” She glanced at Ethan, unsure.

Ethan’s stare was icy. “Sophie, are you that desperate?”

My heart twisted. Shane, never missing a beat, put his arm around me. “You can’t stop people from chasing happiness. We’re getting married—spring at the Art Institute.” He thumped a watermelon. “We’ll be just like this—sweet, lots of kids.”

I whispered, “…This is seedless.”

Shane shot me a look—adults talking, kids quiet.

The tension drew a crowd, phones out. I stammered, “Professor Blake, I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it.” I dragged Shane away. “Let’s go home. I’ll cook, okay? Pigs in a blanket?”

We checked out—$247, somehow. Shane left for Wicker Park, and I waited outside with the groceries.

Headlights flashed. The Maybach screeched to a stop, engine heat rolling over me. Ethan rolled down the window. “Get in.”

I shook my head, stepping back, feeling the night air on my skin, heart pounding. “No need, Professor Blake. My ride’s coming.”

Half his face was shadowed, jaw tight. “So, still the same old tricks?”

I blinked. “…What?”

Ethan sneered. “Cooking, flirting.”