Page 11 of All Her Broken Pieces

Fuck. I’m screwed.

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When the morning sunlight warms my bed, several hours later, I’m alone. A brief feeling of disappointment washes over me as I reach for my phone on the nightstand. I notice an AirDrop message on my lock screen where Ethan sent me his contact info. Unlocking my phone with my passcode—because it never recognizes my early morning face—I open the message, debating whether I should save his contact info. Looking over at the nightstand, I see a scrap of paper with his name and number scribbled on it, too.

I did tell this man I’d give him another night if he left, and he kept his end of the deal. I’m nothing if not for my word. After saving his contact info in my phone, I send him a quick text.

Morning, pup.

Three dots appear instantly. This was a bad idea.

Pup

Morning, queen. I meant to ask, what’s with you calling me pup?

You followed me around the club. What else was I supposed to call you?

That’s fair.

Not going to deny it?

Not even a little. I’d follow you anywhere.

Especially now that I’ve feasted on you.

Jesus

When do I get to see you again?

I said I’d think about it

I should give him an honest answer, but that seems like a complication and like tomorrow’s problem.

My phone pings again, but this time it’s a text from Becka.

Becka

So…

Did you enjoy your visit to Cougar Town?

Fuck you

No thanks. We still on for coffee?

8 am at our usual spot

Can’t wait to hear all the details!

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It’s 7:55 when I walk into The Daily Grind, our favorite local coffee shop. The smell of vanilla and coffee calms me as I step up to the counter and order our usuals, an Americano for me and a flat white for Becka. My dark to her light.

At 8:10, I see her smiling face rush in as she scurries to my table. I stand and extend the cup to her, repeating our regular greeting for our coffee dates. “The first rule of fight club…”

“We don’t talk about fight club.”

“Not even to Robert,” I admonish as she pulls me into a hug.

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