Page 15 of The Breakup Broker

His expression stiffened. “What?”

“She says you never let her in.” Just like Henry had kept me locked out of the parts of himself that mattered most.No. Focus.This wasn’t about Henry. “She’s tired of feeling like a stranger in her own relationship.”

“But ... but we signed a lease together.”

"She’ll be out by the end of the week." My voice was steady, professional—the foundation of my reputation. "She thinks it’s for the best. A clean break. No messy endings."

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "No messy endings? She didn’t even have the guts to tell me herself!"

Like someone else I knew. Someone who vanished without a word. Five years had passed, and I still didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

Stop it. This isn’t about you.

"Sometimes distance brings clarity." The words felt hollow. How many times had I repeated them? How often had I tried to believe them?

His voice cracked. "Distance? We had dinner plans tonight. We were talking about getting a dog."

Just like Henry and I had talked about forever. Like we’d planned our future over coffee and dreams and promises worth less than the paper napkins we’d written them on.

Focus, Savvy.

But my carefully constructed script rang empty for thefirst time in three years. Every word, every practiced gesture, betrayed something I couldn’t quite define.

I reached for my portfolio, needing something solid to hold on to. “She wanted you to know?—”

“No.” He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I don’t want to hear what she wanted me to know. I want to hear it from her.”

My throat closed. I’d wished for that same chance more times than I could count. I’d replayed that last conversation with Henry over and over, wondering what signs I’d missed.

“Sometimes,” I heard myself say, the words coming from some deep, broken place I thought I’d buried, “we don’t get the endings we deserve.”

He stared at me for a long moment, seeing something in my face that made his anger fade to something softer, sadder. “Sounds like you know that from experience.”

I stood, straightening my blazer. Professional distance. Always professional distance. “Your lease termination papers will arrive tomorrow. She’s already signed them.”

But as I walked out into the October sunshine, my next client’s details pulled up on my phone, an unsettled feeling curled in my chest. Something fundamental had changed. Like the ground beneath my world had developed hairline cracks, threatening to shatter everything I’d built on top of it.

One more client. I could do one more.

I had to.

Because if I stopped now—if I let myself dwell too long on Henry’s unsteady hands and eyes brimming with relief, on rings that seemed flawless but didn’t feel right, on all the endings that never got their proper goodbyes—I might never find the courage to do this again.

Rise and Grind Coffee loomed ahead like a badjoke. Of course, my last client would be here. The universe wasn’t done torturing me yet.

I paused outside, my reflection ghostly in the window: same blue blazer, same professional mask, same armor. But the woman staring back at me looked like she’d aged five years in five hours.

“You came back.” Marcus didn’t bother hiding his surprise as I walked in. “After this morning, I thought?—”

“Don’t,” I said. “Just ... pretend this morning never happened.”

His eyes warmed with understanding. “Your usual table is open.”

I claimed my spot, muscle memory guiding me as I arranged my portfolio, phone, and defenses. But Henry’s presence clung to the air like a trace of perfume—the way his voice had cracked on my name, the tremor in his hands, the relief in his eyes that struck like a fresh betrayal.

Focus.Client 345. Investment banker, recently made partner. A girlfriend of three years thinks his success means he gets to plan everyone else’s life.

The bell chimed. Right on time—polished shoes, tailored suit, Rolex catching the light. Everything about him screamed success and security.

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