As I’m riding in the Lyft from O’Hare Airport to Carter’s place, my phone buzzes, this time from Katherine. I pick up.

“Hey. What’s up?” I greet her.

“I just wanted to say, I feel horrible about blindsiding you with all of that information this afternoon.”

“Not your fault.”

“I know. It’s just odd. Sorry for calling you so late, by the way.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you always stay up this late?”

“I flew to Chicago,” I say. “I’m going to confront his ass like an episode of Maury.”

“Wow. Good for you. Do you need a place to stay? I have plenty of clients in Chicago.”

I narrow my eyes, looking out at the highway whizzing by.

“No, I’m good. I’m staying at my friend Lance and Joseph’s place, but thanks for offering.”

“Great,” she says. “I hope you’re prepared for Carter.”

“What do you mean ‘prepared?’”

“Well, I think it’s pretty clear by now Carter’s a compulsive liar. That means he’ll probably say anything to your face. He won’t think twice about it.”

“You’re right. I wish I’d known all along.”

“Call if you need anything. I’ll let you go. Let me know when you’re back in New York. Maybe we can even set up a photo shoot. I know a great local photographer.”

“I’d like that.”

“Catch you later.”

I hang up, and unfocus my eyes for a few moments as I stare out into the blackness of the night.

The Chicago skyline is beautiful with its city lights illuminating a myriad of tall buildings.

Earlier this morning I was daydreaming what a life with Carter would be like.

Would we live in Chicago? Might he move to New York?

Maybe go back to Blackwell to be closer to our families?

Or live part of the year in both places?

Something totally different?

Now, rage starts to build in the pit of my stomach thinking about how foolish I’ve been, planning our future while he’s cavorting around recklessly with some girl. .

Bringing out my phone, I exhale deeply. Fury builds somewhere deep within, in the place where my heart used to be.

I click around aimlessly through various apps. A notification pops up.

Thank you for your payment of $29,383 to your Discover Card.

I look a little closer, and notice the payment came from First Chicago Bank.

That’s Carter’s bank.

I bite my lip, trying to think what to make of it.

Maybe Carter is trying to make up for his misdeeds.

I’m afraid I can’t let this one go.

I wave to the concierge in Carter’s building as I pass him, and he doesn’t question me as I slip into the elevator with another guest, and head up to floor forty-four.

I knock three times, sternly, and Carter answers the door, shirtless, wearing the same black and red flannel pajamas from when we watched Game of Thrones.

“Lacy,” he grits out, seeming confused. “You’re...here. Everything okay?”

My heart clumps in my chest, feeling as heavy as a stone.

“Is everything okay?” I imitate, shaking my head. “Wow. Incredible.”

Carter squints. “Come in. I’ll take your bag…”

I don’t budge. My heart hammers like I’m in the middle of a work out, and I feel my anxiety ratchet through the roof.

“I just can’t believe you would put so much effort in just to blow it all away. But on the other hand, you probably weren’t putting all that much effort in, anyway.”

“You’re going to have to tell me what you’re talking about.”

“She was so right. I should have known. After all, you’re one of the best liars of all time. I know, Carter, I know everything.”

Carter’s eyes flit from me to my bag, and land back on my face.

“What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about, Laces?”

“Don’t call me Laces, ever again. Your Laces privileges have been revoked. I bet you have pet names for all the women you’re with. Do you keep track of us in a little black book, too?”

“If you want to have a discussion about the relationships I’ve had before this past summer, I’m an open book. I told you I haven’t been with anyone since we started hooking up. And that’s true.”

“Is it? Then what were you doing at the show last weekend?”

“Show?”

I cross my arms. “So you do remember, now. Wow. Carter--how long have you been sleeping with her?”

He looks at me with depressed eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Would you please tell me?”

Whipping out the photo, I show it to him.

“I wanted to come all the way from New York so I could see your reaction.”

“Yeah. That’s Sofia DeVaughn. And that’s you,” I point.

“So? She stood in line to take that picture with like five other people after the show.”

“Really? That’s your story?”

“Yes, it is—the true story—and I am so confused right now about why you are overreacting like this.”

“Oh? Overreacting? Tell me then, what does this text from Sofia mean?”

I show him the text from Sofia to Katherine.

Carter furrows his brow. “I barely even spoke with that girl. Where did you get this information?”

“She said you’d say that,” I mutter.

“Who? Who said I’d say that?” Carter runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Katherine.” My eyes gloss over. “And it makes sense, now, too. You paid my discover bill. You felt guilty.”

“Felt guilty? I did nothing wrong. I felt like I fucking love you and I wanted to do something nice for you for Valentine’s Day. Who the hell is Katherine?!”

I feel my heart clamp up, unable to process the fact that Carter just threw out the L word, too. He really is desperate now that he’s caught in a lie. I close my eyes and let a few tears come.

“I’m sorry Carter. This is over.”

“What? No. This is not happening.”

“Yes it is. I’m staying at Joseph’s apartment tonight, and flying out to New York tomorrow morning.”

“Lacy,” he whispers. “I don’t know where this is coming from, or who this Katherine girl is, but don’t do this. This has been a crazy day. Something weird is happening, and we should figure it out together.”

“I have to go,” I mutter, pushing him off, summoning all the strength in my soul to break out of the gravity of his orbit.

“I thought you were better than him. I thought wrong,” I say.

“Better than...my father?”

Tears rolling down my cheeks, I nod.

“Fuck,” Carter says, meekly. “Fuck this.”

I leave.

I roll my suitcase down the hall.

I head down the elevator.

It’s a strange déjà vu moment from last summer.

Except this time, there’s no goodbye sex on the kitchen island.