Page 117 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

“Sounds like quite the revelation,” I say.

“You can thank my therapist,” he smirks. “Unfortunately, the realization came a bit later than it should have.”

He lifts his glass to mine, and I tap the rim to his with a gentle clink. I take a long, slow sip, distracting myself with the way the wine is dark and decadent, just the way I like it, and I wonder if he knew this when he ordered it. I can’t decide if I think this is a clever trick or if it’s just so very Quentin to know all those little things about me.

He watches me enjoying it for a moment, before swelling with a breath. “There’s something else.”

I wet my lips. “Okay.”

“Over the course of this summer, I fell in love with someone. Someone I work with. She’s smart, and determined, and beautiful. I’ve never known anyone like her.”

My heart aches in my chest: from excitement, from longing, from being so recently broken. I do my best to keep my face impassive.

“She sounds way too good for you.”

“She is,” he says. “Things kind of fell apart. I let my family – let myself – get in the way. And she…”

“Felt like you were a professional and emotional liability and decided she was better off alone?”

He gives me another wistful smirk. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

“So here you are,” I offer.

“Here I am,” he nods.

“That was a hell of an opening statement.”

“This is a really important case.”

I can’t take the way he’s looking at me, so I glance across the intimate, candlelit tables of the restaurant. The light of dusk teases through the windows, soft and romantic. Couples lean in close, sharing comfortable conversation. If anyone noticed us, perhaps they would assume the same. That we’re here as a couple. That we’re comfortably intimate. I finger one of the peonies that I bought myself on the way here, now perched on the edge of the table.

“I heard you moved back to Texas,” I say.

“I thought about it.”

“What stopped you?”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” he shrugs. “I took a position as the in-house counsel for a non-profit here. They do the same kind of thing I did back in Austin. It was a better fit.”

“And you still…” I swallow again. “Love her? This woman you worked with?”

“I feel like I was made to love her.”

My heart skips like a secondhand record, but those walls that I’ve carefully rebuilt over the past couple of weeks hold steady. The old guard slides back into place, offering up those tried and true excuses.

“That wasn’t love,” I tell him. “That was bad decisions and too much tequila.”

It’s a lie. My face warms with the shame of it. Why does it feel so much easier than the truth?

“What makes you so sure?” he says.

I laugh in spite of myself.

“Because I also had a hell of a summer, Quentin. A crazy, stupid, impossible kind of summer. The kind that changes everything. I broke all my own rules, and in return, the world broke my whole fucking heart.”

“But you’re here. That has to mean something. You seem to forget that I was there with you. I know I wasn’t the only one. You fell for me, too,” he says. “Why are you here, Heidi?”

I cough out a laugh, because this is becoming increasingly ridiculous. My heart twists in my chest. Emotion stings in my throat.

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