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I was eating a taco from a truck on the corner when I ran into someone from prep school. He stared for a few seconds, as if he couldn't quite place me, or maybe couldn't believe his eyes. “Linnea? This thing with you and Griffin has gone on long enough. I can’t believe you actually came back for him.” Griffin Ricci. Son of the family my mother used to clean for. He was also my first love. We were supposed to go to the same college. But on the night of our graduation party, someone drugged him. I found him in a trashed lounge and rushed over to help. But just as I did, he came to and shoved me out the door—half-dressed, in front of everyone. He said I’d do anything for money. From that day on, I was just another girl trying to sleep her way to the top. For a while, the city nearly suffocated me. So I left with my mother. We were gone for seven years. He pulled out his phone and started to dial, still talking. “You probably don’t know this, but Griffin’s been looking for you all these years.” “It’s good you’re back. Just apologize to him. Put this all behind you.” I smiled, stood up, and let him get a good look at my six-month belly. “My baby’s due soon. What, exactly, is supposed to be over?” ... He and Griffin had grown up together. He’d seen it all, from the day Griffin and I met to the day we got together. The call connected. He hung up immediately. His eyes were fixed on my stomach, and when he spoke, his voice was different. “Jesus. You’re pregnant with some other guy’s kid?” I’d only snuck out for a late-night snack. I had no interest in continuing this conversation, so I turned and walked away. He caught up in a few strides and blocked my path, panic written all over his face. “Linnea, Griffin’s different now. He’s worth even more than he was seven years ago.” “There are women lined up around the block in Boston, all trying to marry him.” “He even said that if you came back, he’d marry you. No prenup.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. He forced out the last part: “Or… you could get rid of the baby. I’ll pretend I never saw you tonight.” I just looked at him. “If you and Griffin are both out of your minds, go see a doctor. Don’t drag me into it.” Color flooded his face. He pointed a finger at me, speechless. I was halfway down the block when he shouted after me. “Linnea, who are you trying to fool? Weren’t you the one dying to get into his bed back then?” I’d been hearing things like that since the day Griffin and I got together. Because Griffin was a Ricci, a name everyone in Boston knew, and my mother was just his family’s cleaning lady. The heir and the cleaner’s daughter—no one ever thought we made sense. But Griffin had liked me, and he hadn’t hidden it. Everyone saw. So people assumed I’d used some kind of trick to trap him. I was too young then, and too proud. All I knew was that I liked Griffin, and Griffin liked me. So I fought hard to prove one thing. That I wasn’t with Griffin for his name or his money. I never used the credit card he gave me. I never let him pull a single string for me. From eighteen to twenty-two, the relationship everyone thought would fail lasted four years. I always thought we’d have a lifetime of four-year stretches. Until our graduation year. That was when Chloe, the daughter of an old Ricci family friend, came to stay for the summer. Chloe came from Griffin’s world. She played the harp, she rode, she even street danced. She was effortlessly bright. She had everything I had, and everything I didn’t. Soon, the rumors started. A drunken joke made by their parents years ago about an arrangement between Griffin and Chloe. The story went that Chloe was in Boston for Griffin. The unease grew until I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to find him at the stables. He went there every Saturday afternoon to ride a few laps and clear his head. But this time, he wasn’t riding. He was just leaning against the fence, his attenti......

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