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Me:

Can I tell you when you get here?

Nadia:

Okay. Coming.

I put the phone facedown.

Then I make it exactly four minutes before I pick it up again.

Nothing from Wyatt.

Of course there’s nothing from Wyatt. I broke up with him.

What is he supposed to say?

Thanks for the memories?

He probably hates me now.

I get up because sitting here staring at the door is making me feel insane.

I pace around the living room, waiting for Nadia. She’ll tell me I did the right thing, and then I’ll feel better.

When I finally hear a knock on the door, I nearly start crying from relief.

I open the door.

Nadia takes one look at me. “What the hell happened?”

It’s so typical Nadia—no hello, no easing into it, just straight for the disaster—that tears instantly spring to my eyes.

Her whole expression changes. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m fine,” I manage.

“Yeah, you look super fine.”

That does it. My mouth twists, and now I’m seriously crying. Big, ugly sobs tear out of me, and I can barely get enough air into my lungs.

“Okay, okay.” Nadia drops the bag she’s carrying onto the floor and pulls me against her. “Come here.”

I bury my face in her shoulder.

She hugs me tighter, one hand rubbing slowly up and down my back while I completely lose whatever control I had left.

“I broke up with him,” I choke out.

Nadia goes still. “With Wyatt?”

I nod against her shoulder.

There’s a beat. Then, very carefully, “Why the hell did you do that?”

Another sob escapes me.

“Right. Bad timing.” Her hand starts moving again. “You can explain after you stop drowning me.”