Page 116 of The Broker

We hadn’t played with them since the night on their boat. Shit, I hadn’t thought about them much in the weeks since then. In fact, I hadn’t thought about them at all.

I’d only wanted to be with Charlotte.

I stared at the text message for a long time and spent even longer trying to compose a reply.

Me:We’re not together anymore.

Shannon:Oh no, sad to hear it.

The bubbles blinked as she typed out a new message.

Shannon:Was it something we did? If so, I’m sorry.

Me:No. It was something I did.

Shannon:I hate that it didn’t work out. Seemed like you two really liked each other.

I started to type out that we did but ended up deleting it before sending. I didn’t want to open the door and make Shannon feel obligated to talk to me about feelings, nor did I want to explain what had happened with Charlotte.

Shannon:If you’re still interested, you’re welcome to join us at the club.

A frown twisted my face at the idea. I had enjoyed playing with Shannon, but now that I’d done it with Charlotte, I didn’t want to go back to how things had been. It wasn’t exciting or interesting without her, and—fuck.

Being with anyone else feltwrong.

Me:No thanks, but you guys have fun.

I didn’t sleep much on Saturday night either. My appetite was gone, and my anxiety was at an all-time high. What was Charlotte doing right now? Was she over at her friend Sasha’splace, drinking and cursing my name? She hadn’t posted new content on any of her accounts, so maybe she was working on that.

Did she miss me even a fraction as much as I missed her?

It was mid-morning when I finally dragged myself into the kitchen and forced myself to make breakfast. I cooked up a plate’s worth of scrambled eggs, carried that and my cup of coffee into my home office, and sat down at my computer.

I always took an hour on Sunday mornings to go over my trading wins and losses from the previous week. I’d spend time studying why those losses happened and then mark up my charts for the coming week. It was my typical routine, and I hoped sticking to it could help break me from this fog of depression.

I scrolled through the accounts, scribbling out numbers in a notebook as I went. Eventually, they’d go in a spreadsheet, but I preferred pen and paper first. I liked the tactile experience of recording the figures this way.

But it did have the potential to cause errors.

When I put the current market value for one of my positions into the spreadsheet, I must have transposed a number, because there was no way the amount was right. I went back to the screen and account, double-checking the numbers—

“Holy shit.”

I’d played a hunch and thought it might perform well, but this? It was ten times more than I expected. The rush of excitement was a hit from a drug, momentarily washing away my sadness. It wasn’t the kind of money that was life-changing, but if I sold as soon as the markets opened tomorrow, it could net five figures.

I was riding the high, so when my front door swung open, my heart leapt. Was this Charlotte?

No.

My posture stiffened as my mom and dad walked in. They hadn’t called or texted or been invited over, and irritation popped the balloon on my temporary good mood.

“Noah?” my mom called from the entryway, before looking to her left and spotting me at my desk. “Oh, there you are.”

I’d warned them not to drop in on me, so I didn’t stand to greet them or keep the coldness from my voice. “What are you doing here?”

She made it a few feet into my office before pulling to a stop and peering critically at my messy hair, worn t-shirt, and gym shorts. “Aren’t you coming with us to Gabby’s soccer game?”

“Fuck. That’s today?” I rose from chair and started moving, my feet pounding across the hardwood toward my bedroom. “Give me ten minutes.” I ignored my father’s disapproving look as I blew by him. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

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