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“I’m out.” I spotted Meg’s nervous, pale face in the doorway of our previously shared office space. “The apartment is back to its prior state. Promise. Here are the keys.”

She relinquished the keys to my carriage house nanny apartment.

“Where are you going to go?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m headed back home for now. I’m sorry, Chloe. For everything. I know you hate me⁠—”

“I don’t hate you,” I promised. “But it’s unwise to work together again. If you need a reference, you can ask. I won’t say anything but good things if you promise not to fuck anyone else’s partner.”

“I promise I won’t. That’s… generous. And when you hire someone, tell them to give me a ring and I can start through the process.”

“I hired a PR firm. Levin and Morris,” I said. “For now, they have a social media team that will handle it.”

She cringed. Neither of us wanted this, but I didn't know another way to fix it. My life would spin out of control without her—even with a firm to help.

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s not great. It won’t be the same, of course.”

“I just want you to know... I never would have done it if he hadn't insisted⁠—”

I held up my hand. “I don't want to get into it, okay?”

Even though I wanted to strangle her, Meg remained a huge part of my life and rise to prominence. I owed her a lot even if she slept with asshole Jasper. He was the one who couldn’t play by the rules. He used Meg. I only hoped she saw that before it was too late.

She looked down, nervously shifting. “I will be happy to see what you do next. Honest.”

I fought tears but signaled time to leave by slapping my upper thighs, “Well, good luck. I have to go pick up these horses down in DeKalb with Riley.”

“Ah, okay. Well, I hope you find someone permanent who is good,” Meg ducked out.

I wiped the tears because a part of my life I treasured was over. It was a mix of betrayal and love for someone who had my back. Even now, as much as I didn’t trust her with a man, I would have trusted her with something more precious and enduring than any man I loved or even written—my life and business. I cared about Meg even if she had done something unfortunate.

I shook it off and boarded the BAT—Big Ass Truck. The diesel hummed as I drove it ten minutes to the barn. It was slightly silly, but I felt powerful now—winning the car. I could pull a horse trailer all by myself. I had for years before Jasper and I would again. But, as we hitched the gooseneck and rolled out south on 94, I struggled to get my bearings. Why was this hard for me?

An hour later, on 88, I calmed, feeling much more in control. I realized my drive south signaled a life change—a closing of one chapter and start of another. I thought Jasper was the one. I envisioned a big wedding at our lakeshore house in Lake Forest. I thought we’d be synonymous with glamour and lakeshore couples goals. Now, I was nearly thirty-five and alone.

I hopped out of the trailer on the Haywards’ gravel lot to find Cole and Piper more than ready. Cole approached, removing his ballcap in respect. I realized I hadn’t gotten a good look at him until now. His big brown eyes were tired and soft, as was his voice.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said. “Apologies if we’re a little bushed.”

“We understand,” Riley said. “No worries. Just point us to where we need to go.”

“We can load up,” Cole insisted.

“No,” I said. “It’s faster as a team. We are game to help.”

Cole shrugged, too tired to protest. He led us to the neat line of tack where he’d laid out each halter in order of who would load first and on which vehicle. Each came complete with a monogrammed name and an attached lead. Tack was similarly prepped, with a dozen bridles, saddles, and grooming kits all organized by horse. All leather goods were in padded nylon bags. Even a snooty hunter princess would have appreciated this matchy-matchy aesthetic. I didn’t expect that out of the greying man in jeans and an old Cubs shirt I’d met earlier. Mr. Hayward was anal retentive, something Riley appreciated—a skill I very much lacked in horse transport matters.

“We should load the tack first, I think,” Cole said. “I know we didn’t discuss it. If we cannot haul it⁠—”

“No, of course,” I said. “We have plenty of room.”

“Great. Thank you.”

I checked out the first saddle, offering to lift it. To my surprise, he didn’t stop me, but it was much heavier than I anticipated.

I watched as he and Riley stifled a laugh. What was it made of? Lead!? Either way, I pushed the saddle inside the semi’s trailer tack room.

Cole began loading, “You could have grabbed one of the English saddles, but you picked the biggest one.”