Page 24 of The Breakup Broker

“I know.” He held out one of the coffee cups. “Peace offering?”

The rich scent of perfectly-made coffee drifted between us, another memory he’d weaponized without trying.

“Peace isn’t my business model anymore.”

“No.” Something stirred in his eyes. “Breaking hearts is more your style now.”

“Does that seem familiar?” The words came out sharper than I intended. “You wrote the manual.”

He winced. Actually winced. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve a lot of things.” I took the coffee. “Most which involve bodily harm.”

“I remember.” He patted the seat beside him. “You always did have creative ideas about revenge.”

“Don’t.” I stayed standing, the coffee burning hot against my palms. “Don’t do that thing where you pretend we’re still those people. Where you act like you didn’t ... vanish.”

“Savvy—”

“No.” My fingers tightened around the coffee cup. “You can’t just ‘Savvy’ me with that voice. Not after years of silence. Not after I had to find out about your engagement in a client meeting.”

“Almost engagement.” He set his coffee down. “Though you ended that pretty thoroughly.”

“I was doing my job.”

“And what is that?”

“Delivering the truth.” I took a sip to stop myself from saying more, then nearly choked. Perfect. He remembered exactly how I liked it. “Why are you here, Henry?”

“Because I owe you an explanation.”

“You owed me an explanation five years ago.” Another sip of coffee, another stab of memory. How many mornings had we spent here, planning futures that never happened? “Now, you owe me professional courtesy. You can contact me through my business if you want to speak to me. The Breakup Broker. Caroline has the number.”

“That’s ... that’s really what you’re doing now?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Breaking up with people for money?”

“As opposed to what? Calling it quits through total silence and ghosting? At least I give people closure.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” he asked, subtly leaning forward to close the distance between us, his fingers lightly tapping the table. “That you’re providing a service? That it’s better your way?”

“It is better,” I replied, my voice shaking and betraying the lie. “Clean breaks. No messy endings. No waiting for texts that never come or explanations that never arrive.”

“Savvy…”

“Don’t.” I stepped back, creating space between us. “You have no right to psychoanalyze my career choices. Not when you’re the reason they exist.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair—a gesture so familiar it hurt. “God, Savvy, I know. That’s why I’m here. To explain?—”

“I don’t want your explanation.” But even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. “I want nothing from you except distance. Just stay in your world, and I’ll stay in mine.”

“That’s not possible anymore.”

“Why? Because you found out what I do for a living? Because your girlfriend hired me to dump you?” I forced a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll refund her fee as a professional courtesy. It didn’t go down the way it should have.”

“No, because my grandfather asked to see you.”

“Your grandfather?” I blinked, sure I’d misheard. “Why would James want to see me?”

Henry’s jaw tightened. “Because he’s dying.”

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