Page 113 of The Puck Bunny

She turns in the doorway. “Hopefully.”

She shuts the door behind her, shutting me out from her foreseeable future so she can create a new life for herself.

I hope to God there’s a place for me in her new life. Because I sure as hell am going to be around to find out whether she believes it or not.

* * *

I missed a week after Thanksgiving because I turned into an automaton to get through the three games we had right after Sara handed me my heart back in a bloody mess—well, that’s not fair to put on her because I deserved it for putting us out there in such a ridiculously clumsy way.

My cell rings on my dashboard.

“Hey, Mom. I’m on my way. I should be there in twenty minutes.” I haven’t told her or anyone else about the un-engagement. No one would even know Sara and I were ever engaged if it weren’t for social media. A clip of us at the jewelry store went viral and the guys were low-key on their congrats since I hadn’t said anything.

Or maybe they don’t believe the fake-t bull shit.

One good thing that’s happened is that Anica has stopped sending me texts, and, more importantly, has stopped mentioning me in social media. Coincidentally, the nasty rumor posts about me have stopped also. As silver linings go, it’s a shallow one.

I’d promised myself that, today, I’ll let my family know what’s going on with me and Sara—or, rather, what’s not going on.

I haven’t told anyone about the breakup yet. I’m toying with the idea of returning the diamond to the jewelry store and letting social media finish the story they’d started. That’s about as real as the engagement was, so it would be fitting.

When I pull in the drive, a calm settles in and it actually feels good to be home. The tension and guilt about my dad not being here has dissipated, morphing into a sad melancholy, with a stab sharper than I like, but, that, I can handle.

I get out of the car, expecting to limp to my the door like I’ve been wounded by Cupid in the romance wars, but my body seems to be better able to recover than my heart.

Mom opens the front door and greets me with a big smile and a hug that never get old no matter how old I get.

My mother’s dinner table doesn’t need the extension to seat Chris and his family and me.

The food is delicious and my nephews keep a genuine smile on my face, not like the half-ass one I’ve been sporting all week.

“I’m so excited that the whole family will be over again for Christmas,” Mom says. “Do you think there’s any chance that Sara’s family will—”

“No chance,” I say, and take a deep breath. “We broke it off.” I close my eyes a second and go for the real truth. “She broke off our so-called engagement.”

“I’m so sorry.” Mom covers my hand with hers.

“Sorry to hear it, bro. That’s tough.”

“Too bad,” Tyler, my older, more sophisticated, nephew says. “I liked her. What’d you do to mess it up?”

His mom immediately shushes him by stuffing a roll in his mouth and Chris glares at him.

“It’s okay,” I say with a half-grin because I can see where the kid is coming from. “I did mess up. I rushed things before we were ready. Now… I don’t know.”

“Do you think there’s a chance for you two in the future?” Mom asks.

I shrug and Tyler and Timmy start a fight over the last roll, changing the conversation. I owe those kids more than they know.

Even though I didn’t want to have the conversation at dinner about a possible future universe where Sara and I might have a chance, I do need to talk about it with someone I trust or I’ll explode. Preferably someone with female insight. Which leaves Billie Mae or my mother.

Carrying a pile of dirty plates, I head into the kitchen where my mother is loading the dishwasher. My sister-in-law is helping her and I tell her I’ll take over. She’s not an idiot, so she nods, gives me an encouraging smile, then leaves.

“You look so sad, Quinn.” Mom stops loading dishes and invites me to unload my heart with her sympathetic smile. She’s the only one on the planet who can get away with giving me that look.

I grunt. I have no idea where to start or what to say.

“Guess you jumped the gun on the engagement ring,” she says.