Page 57 of The Breakup Broker

“We can pack everything if you’d like,” Sarah said gently from the doorway.

I nodded, unable to form words. Everything around me seemed too vivid, too painfully real.

Savvy moved toward the shelves, her fingerstrailing over the spines. “He used to tell me stories about these,” she said softly. “Each first edition had its own history and reason for being here.”

“He loved that you understood that.” I joined her, remembering countless afternoons spent in this room. “He said you saw the magic in old books, not their value.”

I moved to his desk, remembering his urgent words from yesterday. The blue folder was exactly where he said it would be. Inside, as he promised, were his lawyer’s contact information, trust documents, and a list of names—people he’d trusted to help protect his legacy.

For a moment, we stood there, breathing in his essence—the lingering scent of Earl Grey, the familiar musty sweetness of his beloved books, that trace of mint from the candies he kept by his chair. Each detail a knife to my heart.

But we couldn’t stay long. Not with Father making calls and setting things in motion. He wouldn’t even wait for James to be buried before he started dismantling everything my grandfather had built.

“We need to go,” I said, my voice rough. “There’s not a minute to spare.”

Savvy squeezed my hand, understanding in her eyes. “Your father’s already making his move, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” I clutched the folder tighter. “I’m sure.”

Back at Savvy’s apartment, we spread the documents across her kitchen table.

My phone buzzed—Father, again. I sent it to voicemail just as Savvy’s phone lit up. She stared at the screen, and I watched her face change, something shuttering behind her eyes.

“Dr. Blake,” she said. The professional mask I remembered from yesterday slipped into place. “She’soffering me another chance. Says my track record before this week was impeccable.”

I saw her fingers tighten on the phone. “What are you thinking?”

“That I have student loans due next week.” She laughed, but it held no humor. “That being Jennifer Walsh paid much better than being Savvy Honeysucker ever did.”

Her eyes drifted to the stack of loan statements on her desk—the real reason she’d built her career around other people’s endings. The money had been good. Great, even. Enough to keep the collectors at bay, enough to maintain her independence.

“But after everything...” She gestured between us at the scattered evidence of my father’s schemes, at the ghost of James that seemed to linger in every memory. “How can I go back to that? To being that cold, perfect professional who makes endings easy?”

I reached for her hand across the papers, remembering all the times I’d wished I could explain why I left, all the clean breaks that had left us both raw. “Then don’t.”

“It’s not that simple. These payments don’t go away because I want a different life.”

“No,” I agreed. “But maybe it’s time we both stopped running from what matters—time we faced the hard things together.”

She stared at her phone, at Dr. Blake’s message offering a way back to financial security. Back to Jennifer Walsh, the untouchable professional who never let anything touch her heart.

“I built this business around helping people avoid pain,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Around making it easy to walk away.”

I nodded, meeting her gaze. “But has it worked? Has it made things easier for you?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she spoke again. “Maybe some things aren’t supposed to be easy. Maybe the hard conversations are the ones worth having.”

I reached for her, pulling her gently into my arms. A shudder ran through her, and I held her tighter, trying to steady her. Her voice broke the silence between us. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” I asked softly.

“Of making the wrong choice again,” she whispered, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “Of building another life that isn’t real.” Her breath caught as she went on. “When you left, I created Jennifer Walsh because being Savvy Honeysucker hurt too much. And it worked. The money was good, the job kept me busy, and if there was an emptiness sometimes ... at least I was holding the reins.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She glanced at her phone on the table. “Now I don’t know who I am anymore. Jennifer Walsh would never have lost control of delivering a client’s goodbye. She won’t be standing here wondering if there’s more to life than perfect exits.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” I said. “Maybe it’s time Savvy Honeysucker came back.”

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