Chapter 1: Windy City Stand-In

I married Chicago’s most eligible bachelor—not for love, but in my sister’s place, after she ran off to Europe. For half a year, I’ve played the part of his wife, yet he still keeps me at arm’s length, never letting me in.

For months, I watched Jake glide through our River North condo, all charm and easy smiles for everyone except me. At first, I told myself we just needed time to adjust, but the silence between us only grew heavier—colder, even—until it pressed on my chest every night like the weight of the Lake Michigan wind rattling our windows. Sometimes, I’d pull my throw blanket tighter and listen to the wind howl down Michigan Avenue, wondering if I’d ever feel warm again. A loveless peace treaty signed over takeout and late nights alone—was this really what marriage was supposed to feel like in America’s Third Coast? Eventually, I couldn’t help it: my mind wandered to the idea of divorce, the way a Chicagoan might eye the exit during a never-ending snowstorm, just waiting for the thaw.

But everything shifted the night I overheard him with his friends.

Jake’s friends had come by, filling the penthouse with laughter and the clink of whiskey glasses. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—just grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen—when I caught a few lines drifting from the den.

“Some people clearly want it bad, but because they’re afraid of freaking out their wife, they just keep it bottled up. Not naming names.”

One of the guys, sporting a crooked Cubs cap, ribbed, “Dude, you keep playing it cool, your wife’s gonna run off with some Cubs fan from Wrigleyville.”

Jake, the one being teased, just calmly took a sip of whiskey. “What I can’t give her, someone else can. I just want her to come home after she’s had her fun.”

The guys howled, slapping each other’s backs. The Cubs cap guy snorted, “Stop acting so chill. If you’re really that cool, then quit moping on your alt account every day.”

My fingers hovered over my phone. Was I really about to cyber-stalk my own husband? A thought flashed through my mind, and I quickly opened Jake Thompson’s Instagram account.

My hands shook as I scrolled, heart pounding like the El thundering overhead. Sure enough, there it was—a pinned post.

[Finally married my crush, but I have an addiction problem. How can I give my partner a good experience without scaring her?]