Page 93 of Come Break My Heart Again

“I’d like to,” I tell her.

“Yeah?” Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and I think she understands what I mean. That this isn’t small or temporary for me.

I nod. “Yeah.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, worried it’s my mom or a problem with Cormac. It’s my dad, so I shove my phone back in my pocket without answering. Glance at Elle, certain she sawSperm Donoron the screen.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she tells me.

“He never wanted kids. And he tries to be a dad sometimes, but we’re both worse off for it.” I half smile. “That would make more sense if you meet him, but I kinda hope you won’t. Because he’s a guy you need tonotknow to like.”

“I’m sorry, Ry.”

I nod. “I’m used to it by now.”

The second warning bell rings, meaning there’s only a few minutes before homeroom teachers start taking attendance.

“Come on,” I tell her. “I’ll walk you to homeroom.”

“Oh, yeah?” Elle stuffs her textbook into her backpack, then grabs her mug. “Are you going to kiss me in the hallway too?”

I shrug. “Depends how the walk goes.”

“Dick.”

We’re both smiling as we walk inside Fernwood High, holding hands.

I was pretty sure I never fell out of love with Elle Clarke before.

I’m completely certain of it now.

19

Rows of handwritten notes swim in front of my vision. I reach for the cup of coffee that turned cold a few hours ago, wincing as a sip of the forgotten liquid settles in my empty stomach.

My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, thrilled about the interruption. I’ve been studying nonstop since this morning.

“You free for a drink?” Keira asks, skipping a usual greeting. “’Cause I could really use one.”

I laugh. “Sure. You’re in the city?”

“Yep. Had to meet with a couple of suppliers and do some wedding stuff. Juliet suggested meeting at The Adams Club?”

“Yeah, I know where that is. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Perfect,” Keira replies. “She’s bringing Gavin, by the way.”

Thenudge, nudgein her voice comes through loud and clear. I roll my eyes, but don’t respond to it. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up and head upstairs to get changed.

Prescott and I are … good. We’ve worked through most of the awkwardness following my trip to Martha’s Vineyard that I neglected to tell him about. He apologized for overreacting. I apologized for not mentioning the trip to him. On the surface,our relationship is back to no ripples. We’ve gone out to dinner together twice this week. Wednesday afternoon, we met up with a group of law school friends to study-slash-commiserate about bar prep and talk about our approaching jobs. Most of them are set to start as first-year associates in late August, same as me. A couple are doing clerkships.

But beneath the surface, I’m treading water. I’m working to keep my head up. It’s not effortless or easy.

All relationships require work.

This silent struggle feels like something else. And it would be an easier battle to fight if I stopped falling asleep with a paper flower in my hand, dreaming about playing tic-tac-toe in the sand.

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