Page 58 of The Breakup Broker

“I’m not that girl anymore, Henry.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t be that bright-eyed dreamer who thought love conquered all.”

“No,” I agreed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re stronger now. Wiser. You’ve built something impressive, even if it started from pain.”

“Built on quicksand,” she muttered. “One crack in myperfect facade, and Dr. Blake was ready to drop me. And without her referrals...”

“Then we’ll figure something else out.”

Her laugh held a sharp edge. “We? Last I checked, these student loans have my name on them, not yours.”

“Savvy—”

“No.” She stepped back, crossing her arms. “I can’t let you solve this, Henry. I won’t trade dependence on Dr. Blake for dependence on you. I need to figure this out myself.”

I waited, watching her pace the small space between the kitchen and living room. This was the Savvy I remembered—fierce and independent, never wanting to be saved.

“What if,” I said, “it wasn’t about dependence? What if it was about choosing what you want, not what you need?”

She stopped pacing, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, forget the loans for a minute. Forget Dr. Blake. What would you choose if you could do anything and be anyone?”

She stood still, her gaze distant. Then, almost too softly, she said, “I’d help people walk into love, not walk away from it. I’d...” She let out a sudden laugh, shaking her head. “God, I sound like a Hallmark movie.”

“You sound like yourself,” I said, my voice steady. “The real you, not Jennifer Walsh.”

Her phone buzzed again—another message from Dr. Blake. This time, Savvy didn’t even glance at it.

“I can’t quit,” she said. “Not completely. Not yet. But maybe ... maybe I could be more selective. Take only the cases where walking away is the right answer, not just the easy one.”

“And the loans?”

“Will still be there.” She squared her shoulders, her voice growing steadier. “But maybe being Jennifer Walsh isn’t the only way to pay them.”

I wanted to argue, to offer help, to fix everything. But I knew that wasn’t what she needed. Not from me, not anymore.

“Whatever you decide,” I said instead, “I’m here. Not to save you or solve things. Just ... here.”

She nodded, then picked up her phone. I watched as she typed a response to Dr. Blake, her fingers moving purposefully. When she set it down again, something had changed in her expression—like she’d put down a weight she’d carried too long.

“I told her I need time,” she said. “That I’m reevaluating my practice.”

“And?”

“And maybe it’s time to help people believe in something again.” She looked up at me, her eyes clear and determined. “Some endings aren’t meant to be easy, but beginnings—they’re worth fighting for.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Savvy

I watched Henry’s hands curl into fists at his sides, but his face remained tranquil.

His mother touched his arm—a silent reminder to keep his composure. Victoria Kingston was the picture of dignified mourning in her black dress and pearls, but there was steel beneath her grace. I’d seen that same quiet determination in James.

The service itself passed in a blur of hymns and remembrances. I sat in the back, letting the words wash over me as sunlight filtered through the stained glass, painting rainbow patterns across the wooden pews. Someone read from Ecclesiastes—a time for everything under heaven. A time to be born, a time to die. A time to break down and a time to build up.

My throat tightened as Henry stepped to the pulpit. He looked impossibly young in his dark suit, the loss visibly etched in his posture. His voice, when it came, was steady but raw with emotion.

“My grandfather understood the power of stories,” he began. “He believed they could bridge any gap, heal any wound if we were brave enough to tell them honestly.” His eyes found mine briefly in the crowd. “He taught me that strength isn’t in what we own or control, but in what we protect. What we cherish.”

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