Chapter 3: Reunion at the Park Hyatt

That afternoon, Mom dragged me straight from the airport to her favorite salon on Michigan Avenue. 'Dye that white hair back! You look like you got electrocuted.'

'Mom, it’s platinum blonde! It cost me three hundred euros in Prague.'

'I don’t care what kind of gold it is! Lose the earrings and chokers, too.' She tugged at my collar, eyeing the tattoo beneath. 'Lip prints? Please tell me they’re not from some groupie.'

It was actually a dog’s paw print, but I wasn’t about to explain. I escaped to Tony, my childhood stylist, and negotiated to keep a few sunset-colored highlights. By six, I was presentable enough for Mom.

The Chicago wind bit at my face as Mom appeared, ushering me off to dinner. 'I made reservations. Don’t think I don’t know you’re texting your party crew under the table. After you’re married, you come straight home! No more Thursday night DJ sets or Miami weekends.'

I gave up fighting. We arrived at the Park Hyatt—floor-to-ceiling windows, soft jazz, and the city lights sparkling beyond the glass. The clink of crystal glasses and the hush of jazz floated through the air, the city lights glittering beyond the windows. I took a deep breath, poker face ready, but froze when I saw Nathan.

He’d lost weight. His suit hung looser, cheekbones sharper, eyes clearer but distant. Still, he looked good—like a wolf pup trying to act tough.

After Aunt Rachel’s air kisses, I slid into the seat next to Nathan and grinned, 'Long time no see.'

Nathan straightened up, glancing at me warily. 'Hello.'

Did he really forget everything? The late nights, morning coffees, his awful puns during meetings?

While the moms gossiped, I leaned close, arm around Nathan’s shoulders. 'Why’d you agree to marry me?'

He tensed, staring at his water glass. 'Grandpa likes. Mom likes.'

'What about you? Do you like it?'

His eyes flicked to me, slow and uncertain. 'Don’t like.'

Ouch. That hurt more than I’d admit. I tried again. 'Why do you say I’m bad?'

Nathan looked at me, clear as day. 'Not obedient.'

I grinned, leaning in so I could smell his new cologne. 'How was I not obedient? When we were dating, what didn’t I satisfy you with?'

Nathan frowned, fingers drumming on the table. 'You… speak slower.'

I slowed down. 'Why do you think I’m not obedient?'

He clammed up, lips pressed tight. I ruffled his hair, threatening, 'Tell me or I’ll kiss you in front of your mom.'

Nathan’s eyes went wide, mouth hanging open. After a silent struggle, he huffed, 'You played with others. Didn’t play with me. Didn’t come home when it got dark. Always at parties. Always with different people.'

He remembered the old me—the party animal, not the boyfriend. I realized his memory stopped before we ever dated. But how did he know? We weren’t even close back then.

I pinched his cheek. 'Were you stalking me? Following my Instagram?'

Nathan jerked my hand away, face hot. 'Nonsense!'

So, he wasn’t just out of it—he was brutally honest, too. Maybe more than ever.