Chapter 30
Augie and Leah drove home in silence. They were in shock, all the drama and confusion of the night spinning knots inside their
brains. They’d left the Club as fast as possible; Augie hadn’t even gone to her locker for her bag. They’d beelined straight
for Leah’s car.
Augie was again grateful her mom was gone and that they wouldn’t need to explain themselves yet. Neither she nor Leah knew
where to start.
Regardless, as soon as they changed and settled on the couch—enclosed in the dim lights of the living room, everything from
Leah’s shoebox spread out onto the coffee table—Augie told Leah all she’d learned from Chat: how Trey had been hockey friends
with Lyle, how he’d been at The Manor that night but left early with Danika, how Trey thought Joshua Mike had been the one
driving the boat—but couldn’t prove it.
It was especially hard to think about Joshua Mike being involved. They realized it was likely the same year he’d inherited
all that money and bought The Manor, the marina, the Minnesota Wild, though; it could make sense.
They still needed more answers. They’d both messaged Chat on LinkedIn, sending Augie’s address and begging him to come over.
Augie had been warmed, despite everything, to see his apologies and pleas from the previous week. She told herself she’d think about that later.
“I don’t understand why Trey wouldn’t come forward,” Leah said now, although they were repeating questions at this point.
“It doesn’t make sense. If they were friends, why wouldn’t he tell the police to at least look into Josh Mike?”
“I don’t get it, either.” Augie again checked her phone. He still hadn’t replied.
“I just feel so, I don’t know. I feel so happy and sad.” Leah traced her tattoo. “I’m vindicated to know I was right—that there is more to the story—but it makes me sick to
think if Josh Mike really was on the boat, he’s been lying and hiding all this time. Right in front of us.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Lee. It’s twisted.”
Leah pulled the blanket higher. They were sitting longways on the couch, their legs parallel, a duvet over them.
“Have you talked to your mom or dad yet?” Augie asked. At least this question had a clear answer. Augie was also beginning
to realize this was another source of the worry coursing between them: Wyatt had been cheating on Robin. Augie had been so
shaken to hear it and, selfishly, could not stop thinking about Julia and Micah. Her own affair.
“No. I figured it’s best to give them space. I’m sure my dad is calling her right now, trying to get to her before anyone
else.” Leah leaned back against the couch’s armrest, looking up to the ceiling.
Augie had been relieved to learn Leah already knew her dad was having an affair, that it wasn’t one more massive blow from
the night—though Augie was still shocked. Apparently, Robin had discovered he was cheating months ago, and in a fit of sadness,
had told Leah. Still, neither had known it was with Bill.
“I’m sure she’s freaking out. She’s always been obsessed with keeping our family intact, not breaking it up any further.
I don’t know. It’s probably for the best if they split up.
But my dad, Bill.” Leah covered her forehead with one hand.
“I can’t say I saw it coming, but I can’t say I’m completely surprised, either.
I just want my dad to be happy.”
Augie picked at her nails. While it paled in comparison to the recent revelations, Augie knew then: She had to tell Leah about
New York. They were entangled in too many lies. Augie couldn’t be one more person hiding something. She owed Leah the truth.
“Lee.” She cleared her throat. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Leah sat upright.
“No, it’s not about Lyle or Trey or anything. It’s about . . . me.” Her voice grew small. “It’s about something I did. In
New York.”
Leah leaned forward, grabbing Augie’s calves over the blanket.
“Tell me. You know you can tell me anything.”
Augie breathed slowly. She was terrified to face what she’d done, and for Leah to judge her, for Robin to have yet another
painful reality to face—but she had to get it out. So, finally, she started talking. She came clean: New York Fuckboy was
not some random thirty-year-old from her team, as she’d initially said, but forty-three-year-old Micah. Julia’s husband.
Leah was quiet at first, which made Augie even more apprehensive, but she plowed forward. She told her every detail, from
their first meeting at the penthouse to their first messages. That first kiss and beyond. She recounted every little gesture,
every single hookup. Her voice quivered as she got to the part where it all came crashing down: the day they got caught. The
day she got fired. It filled her with white-hot shame.
New York, May
Micah and Augie had established a steady routine a couple weeks after they started sleeping together. Micah would show up
to Augie’s apartment after work, or on weekend afternoons when Julia went to spin class, or any night she was at a work dinner
or out of town. It was both predictable and unpredictable—their bodies were familiar, but the moments they could be together
still appeared and disappeared like magic. As a result, the affair felt desperate; Augie craved Micah and missed him when
he was gone.
One Thursday, she was especially eager to see him. Julia had been home sick for a week, and Micah hadn’t been able to leave
the house. They never texted much—it made Micah nervous—and Augie felt lonely. She got to the coffee bar at work extra early
that day, waiting for him.
As usual, he’d kissed her against the fridge. But this time, it didn’t feel right. She wanted more from him—to feel like she
meant more to him.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” Augie knew that line felt used, but she couldn’t come up with anything else. Micah
had buried his head in her neck, inhaling the smell of her.
“We’ll be back to normal soon,” he murmured. He kissed behind her ear.
“This isn’t normal.” Augie wriggled away. She turned to the coffee machine, pressing the button in an attempt to distract
herself. She grabbed a mug.
“Oh, Augie, come on,” he teased, reaching for her hand. “You know what I mean. You don’t want to be normal. We could never be normal.”
He pulled her into him, kissing her wetly on the mouth.
Augie kissed him back for a few seconds before turning away.
She didn’t want to give in that easily. She’d felt so pathetic and rejected over the last week.
It had made her realize, for the first time, that she’d always be in second place.
She was nowhere near as special as he’d made her feel.
“Well, whatever this is, normal or not, I don’t want it,” she said, surprised and impressed by her response. She took her
coffee and left.
Micah spent all afternoon pinging her. He apologized and apologized, telling her they’d find time to be together soon, that
he missed her, too. Augie couldn’t help it: She weakened. She ate it up. This was what she’d really wanted. So at seven, once
most people had left, when he asked her to meet in a conference room on the fifteenth floor to apologize in person, she agreed.
As usual, she knew where it was going. But as she watched Micah close the blinds, lock the door, walk to her, and drop to
his knees, tugging down her skirt, she didn’t stop it.
Neither of them could have known that an hour before there had been a focus group in that conference room. Like the focus
groups Augie had led with young people who had never played the lottery, a video recording device had been set up so the strategy
team could watch from a room next door, follow along to take notes, list insights, ask questions.
Neither of them knew that the strategy team was still sitting there, on the other side of the wall, debating their recent
findings. They didn’t know that the camera was still on, taping their every move, up until the moment the VP of the company
noticed the screen and lunged forward to shut the camera off.
Of course, it was already too late.
“He was friends with Micah, naturally.” Augie took a breath before continuing to explain how that next day, she was called into the VP’s office, and how—in what she described as the world’s most condescending tone—he told her there was a merger approaching and many people were going to be let go.
That he was sorry Augie had been caught up in all of it.
“There was nothing I could do. He told me I could get HR involved if I wanted, but it felt like a threat. He said it would
only drag out the process and that twenty percent of the agency would be laid off. It would be more tactful to leave with
the merger. He said he’d still give me a good recommendation. But I never wanted to speak to him again. I never wanted to
speak to any of them again. Micah didn’t stand up for me. He called me once—one last time, to say he was ‘sorry for how things ended,’ to warn me about the recording, to explain he was too far along in
his career to ‘blow it up now.’” Augie bit the tip of her tongue until the pain felt like relief. “It was all so horrible.
I was so mortified. I am so mortified.”
Augie closed her eyes, raw and sick with embarrassment. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, blurring the
spots of light behind her eyelids, as she waited for Leah to scold her—to ask how she could do such a thing, to remind her
Julia and Micah were married, family—but she felt Leah climbing over to her. Leah knelt on the floor beside her, then leaned up to hug Augie around the shoulders.
Augie didn’t know what to make of it at first, but as Leah squeezed tighter and rocked her back and forth, whispering, “I’m
so sorry. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Augie began to cry.
“This is not your fault,” Leah said.
Augie swallowed hard, more tears rising up her throat.
“You have to believe me.”
And for the first time, Augie did.