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Me: Looks like I’m back on the market. Again.
Me: Scrub that. I’m done dating.
Leo was all too familiar with my relationship cycles and break-ups. He’d always been there for me, offering support and making me feel like it wasn’t my fault—even when it clearly was. He had seen me go through hook-ups and my sad attempts at relationships, and yet, he remained supportive.
A few moments later, Leo’s response popped on the screen.
Leo: You said that last time.
Me: I mean it this time.
Leo: Marco was a loser with bad taste in music and ugly shoes.
Leo: You can do better
I took a deep breath. Maybe Leo was right. I deserved better than someone like Marco.
Leo: Are you working from home or at the office?
Me: Office
I’d initially planned on working from home today, but now I was glad that I’d driven into the corporate office, grateful for the distraction of being around other people—especially while being dumped.
If I had been at home, that fucking text might have ruined my whole day.
Leo: Alright, I’ll be at your place at 6:30 with a six-pack of consolation beer. I might even spring for the pizza. You’ll be over him by the last slice.
Leo’s unwavering support and friendship never failed to cheer me up and was one of the most important relationships in my life—but that didn’t stop me from occasionally busting his balls.
Me: Real pepperoni and cheese or that awful vegan shit you bought last time.
Leo: You’re so ungrateful. Yes yes?
I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. Clearly, this was not up for debate.
Me: Yes, you insufferable mother hen.
As I returned to my workstation, I spotted two photographs that I kept in a small frame on my desk. One was my parents, taken on their 40th anniversary cruise to Mexico, standing arm in arm on a warm summer’s evening.
Looking at them just reminded me that I’d never be able to say that I spent forty years with one person.
I couldn’t even manage four years with one person.
Fuck, that was bleak.
The other photograph was me and Leo at a mutual friend’s wedding. We’d started the evening in suits, but by the time they took this picture, my tie was long gone, and Leo’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he’d unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, revealing a thatch of dark auburn hair on his broad chest.
We were total opposites in every way. Leo was a big guy who towered over me by nearly six inches, and in the picture, his long arms wrapped around me in a bear hug. He wore his hair short and neat, with a trim beard, and my wavy blond hair was always in need of a haircut. I held a champagne glass in one hand and Leo’s tie draped around my neck.
Our cheeks were flushed from laughing, as well as the open bar, and we both looked stupidly cheery. Well, Leo always looked happy, no matter where he was or who he was with—that was who Leo was, the life of the party.
But even stick-in-his-ass Benson Gray had let his hair down at the reception, a disarmingly happy expression on my face. My hazel eyes crinkled from the sheer intensity of my smile. Leaning back against Leo’s broad shoulder, we looked like a pair of motley fools.
How could anyone not feel a deep sense of comfort knowing that they had a friend like Leo in their life? Despite the shitty break-up—one in a long line of shitty break-ups—I had the best support system, a silver lining in an otherwise gloomy day.
Okay. With renewed focus, I got back to the code. This project wasn’t going to finish itself and moping over a man with poor taste in music and footwear would not get it done.
Besides, I could use the distraction.
