Page 28 of Misbooked for Love

Sofía’s words echo in my mind long after I leave her place and head back home. The house is dark and quiet as I enter, and I slip off my shoes, head to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, staring blankly out the window at the empty street. The truth is, I’ve spent so much of my life staying in one place, building routines, keeping everything neat and tidy. But it’s always felt incomplete, especially in the past few years. Now, for the first time, I have a reason to want more. I just don’t know if I’m ready to dive into the unknown.

I check my phone, half hoping there’s a message from Tom, something simple and unassuming likeI miss you.But the screen is empty, and a hollow ache settles in my chest. Maybe he’s already decided it was just a vacation fling, a holiday romance that shouldn’t carry any more weight than that. After all, he has his own life on the other end of the world.

Sofía’s voice nags at me as I stand barefoot in the middle of my parents’ kitchen, the dim light of thefridge casting an eerie glow on an already cold space.Stop sabotaging yourself.

She said it so confidently, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. But Sofía doesn’t really know what it feels like to be, finally, so tethered to the life I’ve built over the past three years, with my dutifully constructed walls that guard me oh, so well. And what, does she intend for me to blow past them just because it felt good to be with this man for a few days?

I scroll back to Tom’s profile, staring at a photo of him standing in front of a horse, hearts in his eyes for that magnificent beast. My heart aches, a pang so deep it takes my breath away. His face is familiar now in a way that feels dangerous, like I’ve memorized it without even trying. I can hear his laughter in my head, feel the way his hands always found their way to mine, even when we weren’t saying anything.

The sound of my phone buzzing on the countertop startles me, and I grab it instinctively, my heart racing. But it’s not him, obviously. It’s Sofía, sending me a series of texts that make me groan.

Sofía

Did you message him yet?

Because if not, I will.

I mean it. Stop being a chicken shit.

I type out a quick reply.

Me

Leave me alone.

Her response is almost immediate.

Sofía

Never. Now call him, or I swear I’ll do it myself. And you know I will because I’m a special kind of crazy.

20

TOM

Returningto New York feels like stepping back into a life that doesn’t feel like mine. Even with my daughter here, it feels stifling. Clara’s presence still lingers in every corner, a constant reminder of the warmth and laughter I left behind.

I go through the motions on autopilot, picking Ellie up from school or her mother’s house on alternating weeks, heading to the office and planning out travel for the rest of the year. Until one day, three weeks into this sham I’m trying to call a life, everything snaps.

Robert drones on about expansion opportunities and a sponsorship deal that’s been in the works for months. I nod along, but my mind is elsewhere. Clara’sface flashes through my thoughts as I sit in meetings, as I scroll through endless emails, as I shuffle papers that mean nothing to me.

“You’ve been quiet,” my business partner says one gray afternoon, snapping me out of my haze. The street down below looks dreary: people moving fast, clutching their coats and heading inside away from the cold. They all look miserable. “This is a big deal. We need your input.”

I glance at the presentation on the screen. So much corporate jargon that I want to puke. When did this become my life? None of this matters.

“Robert,” I say, standing abruptly. “I need to step out for a minute.”

Robert blinks at me, confused. “We’re in the middle of?—”

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter, already walking out the door. My hands are shaking as I shove them into my pockets, pacing the hallway outside the conference room. The three people inside are looking at me like I’m a lunatic. And I partially feel that way.

This isn’t my life anymore. I thought it was, for years. I thought the traveling and being with the horses—in whatever capacity—it all mattered. But now, this feels like a cage, and the worst part is that I built it myself.

The thought burns through me as I stand there, my breathing shallow and my hands trembling in mypockets. For weeks, I’ve been pretending I can just fall back into this life, as if Clara didn’t change everything. Like she didn’t open my eyes to how much more I could have, if I was brave enough to take it.

I stride back into the room and grab my laptop. Robert looks up, startled and very confused. “What are you doing?” he asks, halfway to standing, almost like he’s about to stop me.

“I’m done,” I say, my voice calm but resolute.

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