Page 23 of The Breakup Broker

I’m not going.

But I was pulling on my most comfortable jeans and a blazer because, apparently, years of meticulously built walls meant nothing in the face of Henry Kingston’s desire to talk.

The October morninghit me like a slap as I stepped outside, the crisp autumn air doing nothing to clear my head. River Bend was awake and bustling. Mrs. Patterson was power walking past with her tiny dog, Mr. Dixon was arranging the same never-sold antiques in TheWeathered Barn’s display, and Mom was organizing the weekly “Staff Picks” in the front of River Bend Books.

I tried to slip past the store without being seen, but Mom’s radar for emotional distress was legendary.

“Savannah Rose Honeysucker,” she called from the door. Her voice had that edge that meant she was fully aware of the mess I’d gotten myself into. “Going somewhere?”

“A client meeting.” The lie was heavy on my tongue.

She emerged with her reading glasses perched on her head. “In baggy jeans?”

I looked down at my outfit. “I’m trying a fresh approach?”

“Mm-hmm.” She studied my face with that mom-intensity that made me feel about five years old. “Would this approach have anything to do with why Henry Kingston’s car was parked in the alley behind the bookstore last night?”

My heart stopped. “You saw him?”

“Honey, everyone saw him. It’s River Bend. Mrs. Patterson’s updated her neighborhood watch group chat twice.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

“It’s not—” I started, then stopped because I had no idea what it wasn’t. “I have to go.”

“Savvy.” She caught my arm as I tried to escape. “Whatever you’re running toward—or from—remember something.”

“That Henry Kingston broke my heart and turned me into someone who breaks hearts professionally?”

“No, that you’re braver now than you were then.” She squeezed my arm. “And courage isn’t just about putting up defenses. Sometimes, it’s about knowing which ones to take down.”

“Mom—”

“Go,” she said. “But maybe stop by Timeless Treats first. Karen’s got your blueberry muffin waiting.”

“How did?—”

“Mrs. Patterson’s group chat is very thorough. Henry was seen buying two coffees ten minutes ago at Common Grounds.”

Of course, he was. Because Henry Kingston did nothing halfway—not breaking hearts, not disappearing from my life, and not whatever this was.

The path to Common Grounds hadn’t changed in five years. It’s the same worn dirt track, the same gnarly oak roots trying to trip unwary hikers, the same glimpses of the Hudson through autumn leaves. But everything else was different. The girl who used to run up this path, eager to meet Henry for sunrise coffee at our favorite coffee shop, was gone. In her place was someone tougher, someone who’d learned that forever was just another pretty lie people told themselves.

I heard him before I saw him—the soft hum he likely didn’t even realize he was making. My feet stopped moving of their own accord, my heart pounding against my ribs. There he was, seated in our old spot atop the hilltop café, two coffee cups beside him, gazing out over the Hudson River as if the past had never happened.

The morning sunlight caught his profile, highlighting the changes time had carved into him. His jaw was sharper, a premature touch of silver threading through his dark hair at the temples. The boy who’d promised me forever had grown into a man who looked every inch the Kingston heir—except for how his fingers drummed against his coffee cup, a nervous tell I remembered too well.

“You came.” Five years of unspoken words echoed in his voice.

My fingers curled into fists. “You can’t leave notes and expect me to show up.”

He fixed his gaze on the river, his jawline sharp in the morning light. “But you did.”

The space between us hummed with everything left unsaid—endings we never wanted and beginnings we never had. "You ambushed me."

“Seems fitting.” Now he turned, and the morning light caught his handsome face—dark hair tousled just right, piercing blue eyes that held a familiar intensity, and the perfect amount of scruff that made my inner thighs tingle. “Since you did the same to me yesterday at Rise and Grind.”

“That wasn’t—” I crossed my arms. “I didn’t know it was you.”

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