Page 100 of All Her Broken Pieces

“Why the fuck do we keep meeting for coffee to chat when this is an option?”

“Fuck if I know.” She shovels another spoonful into her mouth. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a workaholic with a busy schedule, and until recently, your nights were booked with a certain sous chef.”

“Fuck. Hand it over. I’m going to need more if we’re jumping into this.”

“Can I tell you a story?”

“Anything to take my mind off of the shitshow that is my life.”

“Robert is the only man I’ve ever been with. He was my college sweetheart, and we were young when we got married. I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed, and so has he. I had to learn how to grow as a person while I was with someone else, and along with that came the very real possibility that while I was growing, we could grow apart. He’s the only person I truly trust with my heart and my body, but lately I worry that I’m not enough for him.”

I touch her shoulder in comfort as confusion etches her features. “This is new,” she says.

“What is?” I ask curiously.

“You’re touching me. Normally, I’m the one hugging you against your will.”

Shit, she’s right. I start to pull my hand back when hers covers it before I can retreat. “I like Ethan for you, Bridget. I’ve seen a transformation in you. You seem happier, more at ease, more yourself. I’m glad you let someone in.”

“Fuck all good it did me when we can’t be together.”

“Who says you can’t? As awkward as I’m sure this situation is, I doubt Ethan would walk away. But lemme guess, you did.”

“I literally ran away from the house. I may have left my jacket there.”

“Which one?”

“The black suede one.”

“The biker one, with the belt?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck you, that’s my jacket!”

“Oh shit, I forgot you let me borrow that.”

“Yeah, well, it was like three years ago, and it looked better on you anyway. Now I guess it’s Ashley’s turn to enjoy it.” She pushes my shoulder playfully, and I’m thankful for her ability to bring levity to any situation. “I got that jacket at a point in my life when I was still figuring out who I was as a wife and a mother. Maybe it came to you at a time when you needed it most, and now it can move on to bless some other broken individual.”

“It’s not a magical pair of pants that bonds us into a sisterhood, it’s a jacket. And I doubt Ashley needs it. She’s happily married to Hank,” I say with an eye roll as I shove another serving of boozy ice cream into my mouth.

“Okay, tell me more about that.”

“There’s not much to tell. I’ve met her before, and she’s lovely. Does it make me an asshole to say that she deserves better? They seem happy, but Henry—I mean, Hank—doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as her.”

“Maybe that’s your hurt talking?”

“Maybe. But how is it fair? Where the fuck is karma in all this? That asshole cheated on me, and yet he ends up with a wonderful wife, a bunch of kids, and a happy life. Why does he get happily ever after when I’ve been miserable because of him my whole life?”

Becka puts her ice cream down and looks me straight in the eye. “This might not be what you want to hear, but I think it’s what youneedto hear. Bridget, you aren’t miserable because Hank cheated on you and broke your heart. You’re miserable because you’ve held on to that hurt your entire life. You’ve let that hurt make decisions that it had no right making for you.”

A sob bursts from my throat. “I don’t know how to let it go,” I cry. “How do I let it go?”

Becka wraps me up in a hug as I sob into the fabric of her shirt, staining it with my tears. “You choose yourself. Every day. All that hurt you feel means you lived. That you loved. But you have to learn from that pain and use it to help you grow. You experienced some traumatic shit in high school, finding out your ex cheated, knocked someone up, and none of your friends supported you. It’s no wonder you have trust issues. But you used that pain as a weapon to keep others away, thinking it would protect you from any future pain. And the thing is, we weren’t meant to live life alone. Why do you think I tried so hard to be your friend?”

I can’t help but lash out. “So, you took pity on me because you saw I was alone and had no one else?”

“I’m gonna let that one go since I know you’re hurting,” she chides as her hand rubs up and down my back as if to soothe the monster my emotions have become. “I chose you because I could tell you needed a friend, and I wanted to be that for you. You make me laugh. You make me think. You’re so fucking smart, and deep down, I knew you had a beautiful soul. Plus, you do my taxes,” she says, making me laugh. “I always felt like we were soulmates. And before you get all weird on me thinking I’m about to profess romantic feelings for you, I believe that someone can have multiple soulmates, but not all soulmates are romantic types of love. And you’re one of mine.”

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