Page 21 of The Broken Hearts Club

“He’s a dick.”

“I know. He also told me I was immature, and wasting my life with my job. The thing that kills me is that he encouraged me to quit programming, follow my passion, and go to art school! Why? So he could use it against me later?”

“It sounds like anything you said or did was going to be used against you, to try to justify his decision to bail.”

“That’s exactly right,” Miller said. “The bottom line was that he didn’t want to be with me. But like you said, he felt like he needed reasons for that, so he started listing everything he thought was wrong with me. This went on for a while, and by the time he was done, I felt like the most worthless piece of shit on the planet.”

“I hope you told him to go fuck himself.”

“I wish I had. Instead, I told him very calmly that his timing sucked, and that it would have been nice to know all of this even a week sooner. Then I grabbed my phone and laptop, drove to the first hotel I could find, and checked in. I sent all our guests a group email telling them the wedding was off, and then I called and canceled each of our vendors, who reminded me that none of this was refundable on such short notice. After that, I put the do-not-disturb sign on the door, curled up in a ball under the covers, and spent most of the next three days crying.”

“I’m so sorry, Miller.”

“It’s okay. It actually helped to let it out. Once my tears dried up, I cobbled together a new life for myself. Fortunately I had the next two weeks off, because I was supposed to be on my honeymoon in Bali. During that time, I liquidated my stock options and bought this flat. Since I was paying cash, I managed a ten-day escrow, which was great. By the time my ‘honeymoon’ was over, I’d moved in here and started the next chapter of my life.”

I asked, “Did you ever really process what happened to you?”

“I tried to. I gave therapy a shot, but it seemed less helpful than the evenings I spent venting to Daria over countless bottles of wine.”

“I’m glad she was there for you.”

He murmured, “Me, too,” and fell silent for a while before saying, “I knew I’d run into him eventually, and I’d been wondering what it would feel like. Now I know. There’s definitely still some residual anger, but today I got to show him that he didn’t break me, and that felt good. I’m glad you were there, and that you pretended to be my boyfriend. I really wanted to show him I’d moved on.”

“But have you?”

Miller frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re doing great. You’re healing, and that takes time. But you haven’t really started your next chapter,” I said. “That’ll happen when you unpack your boxes, turn this place into a home instead of a crash pad, and start dating again.”

“I fully intend to. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He got up, sticking his feet into his slides as he said, “Speaking of wine, I’d love some right about now. Can I pour you a glass?”

“Sure.”

He left the room, and I grabbed the food I’d brought with me and hurried after him. The cat, who’d been sitting in the doorway throughout all of this, hurried after me in turn.

Miller half-filled two juice glasses with white wine from the fridge and handed me one. I said, “Cheers,” and raised it to my lips, but I didn’t actually drink any, because I hated the taste of wine. He needed a drinking buddy though, so he didn’t need to know that.

When he didn’t say anything for a minute, I decided to lighten the mood with, “Show me your alleged tomato plant.”

He grinned at me. “Alleged? You don’t think I grew that tomato?”

“Seeing is believing.”

“Fine. Come with me.”

We cut through what would probably be a wonderful den someday, and he opened the back door and flipped a switch to turn on an outdoor light. I followed him outside and murmured, “Oh wow.”

The deck he’d mentioned was only about six feet wide, but it spanned the entire building. There was a single folding chair to the right, and to the left was a bushy plant covered in green tomatoes. But what captured my attention was the overgrown backyard.

“I remember you saying something about a yard, but I had no idea this was back here,” I said. “There’s no sign of it at all from the street. And look, all the houses have them! It’s like a secret oasis that only the residents know about.”

I left my glass on the railing, and as I hurried down the stairs he called after me, “Be careful. Those slippers might live up to their name.”

I looked down at the pair of dog heads on my feet. “By… Scooby Dooing?”

“By slipping. They probably don’t have any traction.”

I reached the yard and turned to him. “Oh, look. I made it down ten steps without dying.” That earned me an eye roll.