Page 143 of A Perfect Fit

I sniffle, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “Maybe.”

“Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around and that he didn’t actually mean it when he said he wanted to break up.” Jen sounds convinced, like she’s not just saying that to try to make me feel better.

“I guess,” I mutter, but a seed of doubt is still planted in my mind.

“Hey, how about this?” she says, her gaze steady as it meets mine. “I’m going to make us lunch, and after that, we’ll have a rom-com movie marathon. I’ll grab the wine as well.”

I muster a sad smile. “Sounds good.”

I know even none of my favorite rom-com movies can take the pain away, but I’m grateful that I have Jen, that I’m not completely alone.

When I wake up the next morning, my head hurts, and I feel hungover, even though I didn’t get drunk yesterday.

An ache pulls my whole body, the soreness in my eyes a sign that I’m sleep-deprived.

I cast my mind back to what happened with Jackson yesterday, wishing it were all just a dream.

At least I don’t have a shift at The Daily Brew today.

Rolling over, I grab my phone from my nightstand to check the time. It’s close to eight a.m., so Jen must’ve left long ago for her shift at the hospital.

I open my text thread with Jackson. The last message we exchanged was him apologizing about losing track of time and being late to our catch-up.

I wish I’d never suggested meeting at The Daily Brew yesterday—if we hadn’t, we’d still be together.

Or maybe something else would’ve happened that still would’ve resulted in him wanting to break things off with me.

My phone rings, and I stiffen with surprise when I see who’s calling.

Ivy.

Ignoring the uneasy feeling spinning in my stomach, I accept the call. “Hi, Ivy.”

“Hi.” There’s a strange note in her voice I can’t detect. “Can we talk? Like, in person?”

This is an even bigger surprise.

I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t know what she wants to talk about that can’t be said over the phone, but admittedly, curiosity is getting to the better of me, and I could use a distraction from my breakup with Jackson. Otherwise, I’d probably just rot in bed all day.

“Sure,” I eventually say.

We make plans to meet at a coffee shop in Brooklyn, and when I arrive an hour later, Ivy’s already sitting at one of the marble tables, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup.

I walk up to her, sitting on the other chair at the table. “Hey.”

Ivy looks nothing like her usual, polished self. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her lips are dry and chapped. Her usually glowing and dewy skin looks dull, and she’s not wearing any makeup or perfume, which is out of the ordinary for her.

That probably makes the two of us.

“Hey,” Ivy says. “Do you want anything? I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I didn’t get anything for you.”

I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.” I’m not surprised she doesn’t know my usual coffee order, because I don’t know hers either.

We sit in awkward silence for the next few moments. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I finally ask.

Ivy flinches. “Dad encouraged me to talk to you. At first, I didn’t want to, but …” She takes a deep breath. “He’s right. I … owe you an apology.”

My head jerks back. Ivy is apologizing to me?