Page 45 of The Breakup Broker

When we reached my apartment, I paused at the door, struck by how naturally we’d fallen back into sync today.

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “We need to gather resources before your father makes his move.”

Henry’s eyebrows lifted, a look of approval playing across his face. “I’d like that. I’ve got all day, and I have some contacts we should call.”

The hours flew by in a whirlwind of productivity. Henry worked with his corporate contacts while I contacted local property owners. My coffee table became commandcentral, covered in property assessments and legal documents. Henry’s laptop chimed with incoming emails as responses from law firms trickled in.

“Martinez & Associates is in,” Henry announced around two o’clock, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Pro bono representation for any resident facing pressure tactics.”

I looked up from my stack of papers, grinning. “That’s three firms now. And I’ve got two independent inspectors willing to do fair market assessments at reduced rates.”

Henry exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s not just about business for them. My father’s burned a lot of bridges over the years—strong-arming locals, undercutting contracts, making it impossible for small firms to compete. They’ve been waiting for a chance to push back.”

When our stomachs started growling, Henry ordered pizza. We ate straight from the box, comparing notes between bites. His tie had long since been discarded, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he paced, talking to another contact. I couldn’t help but notice how the muscles in his forearms flexed as he gestured.

The sun was setting when Henry ended his last call. “That’s five law firms total,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside me. “And a promise from my old professor to review any contracts that come through.”

I stared at our day’s work spread across the coffee table, overwhelmed by what we’d accomplished. “We’re doing this,” I breathed. “We’re fighting back.”

“We are,” Henry said. When I turned to look at him, I found his face inches from mine.

The air between was filled with something more than victory. We’d been brushing past each other all day, sharing looks, working in perfect sync. Now, with no more calls tomake or emails to send, I couldn’t ignore the electricity anymore.

“Savvy,” Henry breathed, his hand coming to rest on my knee. The warmth of his touch sent shivers up my spine.

I knew I should focus on our work and the community counting on us. But as Henry leaned in, his lips inches from mine, all my boundaries disintegrated.

Our lips met in an achingly familiar and thrillingly new kiss. It was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened into something more urgent. Years of pent-up longing and regret poured into that kiss, mingled now with the pride and passion of our shared mission.

When we broke apart, breathless, my mind spun with conflicting emotions. The floodgates had opened, and I was drowning in everything I’d tried to forget. Was this brilliant or completely reckless? My brain screamed that we had too much at stake, that mixing business with pleasure could jeopardize everything we’d worked for today. My heart whispered of second chances and destined timing. And my body ... my body wanted him closer.

“Stay,” I heard myself whisper. The word emerged from some deep place I hadn’t even known was ruling my actions.

Henry’s answer was another searing kiss, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. Warning bells rang distantly in my mind, but the thunder of my pulse drowned them out, as did the electric feeling of his fingers against my scalp and the intoxicating familiarity of his cologne.

As we rose from the couch, papers scattered to the floor, I couldn’t tell if this was the smartest or stupidest decision I’d ever made. But in that moment, with Henry’s lipstrailing fire down my neck, I realized I didn’t care. Tomorrow could worry about itself.

We stumbled toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in our wake. Each touch and each kiss obliterated another rational thought until nothing was left but sensation and need. And when Henry whispered my name against my skin, I surrendered completely to whatever force—logic, love, or pure desire—had brought us to this moment. Right or wrong, there was no turning back now.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Henry

The word “stay” echoed in my mind as I followed Savvy down the hallway, my heart thundering against my ribs. The familiar scent of her shampoo drifted back to me—vanilla and something uniquely her—awakening memories I’d spent years trying to suppress.

Her fingers laced through mine as she led me toward her bedroom, and the slight tremor in her hand didn’t go unnoticed. It mirrored my uncertainty and my desperate need to get this right. After everything I’d done wrong, everything I’d broken between us, this moment was as precarious as walking on glass.

The moonlight filtering through her bedroom window painted silver streaks across her face as she turned to me. For a heartbeat, we stood there, suspended between what we’d been and what we could become. Her eyes carried the same mix of desire and fear that churned in my chest.

“Savvy,” I breathed, reaching up to trace my thumb along her jaw. “If you want tostop?—”

She silenced me with another kiss, deeper and more urgent than before. Her fingers traced across my bare chest, clutching my shoulders as if afraid I might disappear. The thought sent a sharp pain through me. Of course, she’d fear that—wasn’t I the one who’d vanished before?

I wanted to tell her so many things—how I’d never stopped loving her, how leaving her had been like carving out my heart. But words felt too small, too fragile to carry the weight of our history. So instead, I let my touch speak, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the way my hands found hers.

My hands slid down her sides, memorizing every curve like a drowning man finding shore. The silk of her blouse whispered beneath my touch as I traced the path I remembered so well, but I needed more—needed to feel her skin against mine.

“Let me,” I murmured against her neck when her fingers fumbled with my buttons. “Let me look at you.”

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