Page 25 of What Broke First
Sarah looked down for a moment, then back up. Her eyes were uncertain, but not closed.
“Maybe,” she said. “But only if we start from where we are. Not from where we were.”
Dr. Colleen nodded. “Then that’s where we begin. Curiosity. Openness. That’s the first step. Discovery isn’t a phase that ends; it’s a choice couples make again and again. So if you’re willing to be open, to listen differently, you might find something in each other you didn’t even know was there.”
Dr. Colleen paused, then added, “Why don’t we try that now? I’d like each of you to name something new you’ve noticed or rediscovered about the other in the last few weeks.”
Matt shifted in his seat, thoughtful. “She still bites her lip when she’s thinking hard. I forgot that. It used to drive me crazy, in a good way.”
Sarah’s expression softened. She glanced sideways. “He’s showing up. Not just therapy. To the kids. To himself. That’s new. And it matters.”
Matt leaned back, his shoulders less tight than when he came in. Sarah folded her hands in her lap, her thumb grazing over the base of her ring finger, a habit she hadn’t noticed until now.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was full of something else. Something not yet named. But maybe ready to be.
Chapter 14: Not Tonight, James
James picked Sarah up in a black SUV that smelled like cedar and competence. He wore a clean white button-down, navy slacks, and the kind of cologne that suggested he moisturized and flossed.
Everything about him screamed stable, which, for a woman whose ex once texted her “where r the kids again?” from a golf course, was a refreshing novelty.
They were headed to a small art exhibit, local artists, overpriced wine, and soft jazz. A safe date. Something grown-ups did when they weren’t busy cleaning soccer cleats or managing heartbreak.
“You look amazing,” James said as she buckled in. He didn’t leer. He didn’t lick his lips like a cartoon wolf. He just looked at her like she was someone worth dressing up for.
“Thanks,” she said, adjusting her coat. “You smell like a high-end bookstore.”
He laughed. “Oddly specific. But I’ll take it.”
The gallery was tasteful. Understated.
People wandered between abstract paintings, politely murmuring things like “interesting use of texture” while swirling wine in their glasses and pretending that it meant something.
James was charming. He introduced her to the curator. He knew things about brush strokes and composition. He didn’t once check his phone.
And yet.
Sarah found herself spacing out mid-conversation. Not because James was boring, he wasn’t. But she kept wondering what Matt was doing. If he were at home watching Bluey reruns with the kids. If Emily had convinced him to wear the sparkly tiara she now insisted all grown-ups wear to tea parties.
James leaned in. “You okay?” She blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about... stuff.”
He nodded, understanding more than he let on. “You don’t have to be perfect tonight.”
She smiled. “Good, because I left "perfect" somewhere in 2014.”
Later, they had dinner at a quiet little place with mismatched chairs and candlelit menus. James talked about a building he was restoring. Sarah told him about her job in community outreach, the funny things the kids had said that week, and how Tommy now referred to broccoli as “crunchy lies.”
It was easy. It was peaceful. But when James walked her to the door and leaned in, slowly and respectfully, waiting for permission, Sarah panicked.
She stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You’re great. Really. But I think I’m still... unraveling.” James smiled, not offended.
“I figured. Doesn’t mean I won’t try again.”
She nodded, grateful. “Just maybe not tonight.”
He gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, then turned and walked back to his car. Sarah stood at the door for a long moment, coat still on, keys in hand, wondering why something so objectively right felt so flat.
Inside, her phone buzzed.
