The reservation had been checked in fifteen minutes ago.

My fingers tightened around the edge of my phone as the car sped through the rainy night.

The wipers scraped across the windshield, leaving thin, grey streaks of slush.

Julian leaned back, his eyes fixed on the taillights of the delivery truck ahead of us.

“We need to be clear about the next steps, Claire,” he said.

“The board of Bennett Urban Systems meets at nine tomorrow morning.”

“I know,” I said, watching the street signs flash past.

“If we don’t have those tokens, Adrian’s firm is finished.”

“And the waterfront?” I asked.

“Our partnership is solid, regardless,” Julian said, his voice quiet and steady.

“The city council approved the final permits while we were at dinner.”

“The press conference is set for Friday morning at the site.”

I nodded, feeling a cold knot of anticipation in my stomach.

The waterfront project was my design, my chance to show Chicago what I could do without Adrian’s shadow.

But tonight, the past was still pulling at my sleeve.

Thomas swerved around a stalled delivery van, the tires splashing through a deep puddle.