Page 27 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

He laughed, pink-cheeked and apologetic.

“I mean, obviously.”

“No,” I said. It came out automatically, and the force of it seemed to leave him without air.

“... no?”

“We talked about this.”

“Okay, this isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he said in an apologetic rush. “We were going to discuss it. At Avion. Because I know how much you love the elk tenderloin.”

“This has nothing to do with elk tenderloin.”

“There was going to be ambiance,” he continued in exasperation. “It was going to go… well, not like this.”

I stared at him, wondering how he thought ambiance would change my mind. Did he know me at all? I studied his features as if the landscape of his face was foreign to me. His brows knit together in the middle as he sighed.

“Let me try to be clearer,” I offered, as calmly as possible. “This wasn’t – isn’t – part of our plan.”

He blinked at me long enough to realize I was serious.

“Is this about the stuff we agreed on? Two years ago?”

“Um, yes.”

What else would it have been about? People make agreements for a reason. So that they continue to agree.

To be fair, there wasn’t anything in the document about marriage specifically. However, it did state that the outlined terms of our relationship were not to be reconsidered for a period of five years. I felt like that made it clear that a surprise proposal was completely off the table.

At the time we first reviewed everything together, Callum had read it and laughed. “Five years? You’ve got a lot of faith in us, huh?” He thought it was romantic, an indication that I thought whatever was between us was enduring. Two years later, though, his gaze dropped to the place where he had braced his palms against the marble countertop. He let out a bitter laugh.

“Wow,” he muttered.

In the deafening silence that stretched between us, he picked up the ring box and slid it into his pocket, before beginning the choreography of someone gathering their things to leave. He found his wallet. He located his keys. They jingled with a loud, ominous sense of urgency as he wandered around, as if retracing his steps would help him remember what exactly he was looking for.

“So, what? That’s it?” I demanded. “You’re leaving?”

He held up a hand. “I really can’t do this right now, Heidi.”

I remember the way the heat crept up my neck, lapping at my face like uncontrolled flames. I imagined any moment my skin might peel away like scorched wallpaper.

“You can’t do this? You decided to break all the rules and now you’re upset about it? What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought you were going to say yes!” he yelled.

I followed him into the bedroom, where he was collecting his socks, underwear, and gym shorts into a canvas grocery bag.

“Why on earth would you think that?” I demanded.

“Because I’m fucking moron, I guess.”

“We talked about this in the beginning, Cal. We literally put it all down in black and white. I never led you on.”

“No, but you never let me in, either,” he spat. “I really thought things had changed, Heidi.”

“So you’re just leaving?” I demanded. “Because you’re mad I didn’t change?”

“I’m leaving because you’re breaking my fucking heart, and you don’t even care,” he said, stalking through the living room to locate his shoes. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve changed for you? We eat at your restaurants. We hang with your friends. We watch your stupid fucking TV shows. Everything is about you. And the saddest part is that I loved everything being about you, but only when I felt like you loved me, too.”

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