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As I step into the nearby café twenty minutes later, my legs shake and my stomach gets nauseous.
Brogan is there.
He’s sitting at the table, his face turned away from me. Just looking at the back of his head—the reddish-brown hair, the hint of his beard, the broad shoulders—it hurts. I didn’t realize how invested I’d become until now.
Suddenly, Brogan turns.
Blue eyes fall on me.
They’re distant.
Cold.
I shudder even as I send him a hard stare right back. This isn’t the way I wanted to end things. All complicated and painful. When I started, I was sure I would never care enough to be hurt when it ended.
But I am.
Each step I take toward him is like a hammer to my heart.
When I sit, Brogan nods at me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “I heard about Steph.”
“She pulled through.” His gaze softens.
“I’m so happy to hear that, Brogan. Really.”
He looks at me and, for a second, the awkwardness between us disappears. It’s enough to make my heart lurch in my chest. Hope, that obnoxiously resilient thing, rises inside me.
Maybe we don’t have to end this yet.
Maybe… we can keep being friends.
And then…
See where it goes.
Or…
We can stay married.
We can do it.
I don’t think I’m ready to let him go yet.
I don’t think—
Brogan slides something over the desk.
I glance down.
Divorce papers.
My heart cracks into pieces.
In a stiff, unfeeling voice, Brogan says, “Thank you for your time.”
“What is this?”
