Page 84 of Breadwinner
Sarah’s body stilled. Nell was on her front porch, her dark hair braided, draped over her shoulder in that way Sarah loved, her black trench coat damp with little droplets of rain clinging to it.
“Nell... what—” she started, but between this unexpected appearance and what had happened with Beth, she found herself unable to form a cohesive follow-up thought.
It had been five weeks. Five weeks of silence. Five weeks of obsessively checking her phone and trying to figure out where she had messed up. And now Nell was here?
Fuckthat.
Sarah swallowed hard. She glanced past Nell up the driveway, heart pounding in her chest. “Did you pass Beth?”
Nell didn’t answer her, just tilted her head slightly, studying her with that annoyingly intense look that felt like it could see right through her. But there was a moment—only a moment—where she swore she saw something flash behind Nell’s eyes at the mention of Beth.
Sarah stepped fully outside onto the porch, closing the door behind her. She would not be inviting Nell into her home today, not after she had spent so much time feeling so disrespected the past few weeks. She had put her foot down with Beth, and she would put her foot down with Nell, too.
Sarah crossed her arms. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Do you have dinner plans?”
“Excuse me?” Sarah laughed, short and cold.
“If not,” Nell said, not reacting in the slightest to her tone, “would you like to have dinner with me?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sarah mumbled, running her fingers through her hair. This day was officially too much. But this was Nell, and she was, for once, asking—not demanding or commanding or instructing, simply asking.
“Fine,” Sarah said, the word sticky on her tongue.
She turned, leaving Nell standing on the porch as she slipped back inside, still not offering her an invitation in, and grabbed her keys and her purse from the table by the door, where she always kept them.
Dinner. Was she serious? All this silence just to show up unannounced at the worst possible moment and take her out to dinner. Sarah could scream.
But instead, she climbed into Nell’s car and endured more silence between them as Nell drove in the direction of town. She looked out the window as the blur of evergreens zoomed by. Nell turned right, then left, and then left again. As they drew closer, Sarah realized where Nell was taking her. A new place called Wayward Waters. The irony was not lost on her at all.
The restaurant itself was small, cozy, and tucked away along the waterfront. Inside, the host greeted them like they had been expecting them, and somehow, that only seemed to annoy Sarah more. So Nell had all this time to make a secret dinner reservation but couldn’t find a spare minute to text or call her?
The host led them to the back of the restaurant, to a secluded table for two with a view of the marina. Sarah slid into her seat and hung her purse on the hook under the table, still not saying a word.
Nell sat across from her, hands folded neatly in her lap, smiling at the waiter as he placed their drinks in front of them: a glass of water and a glass of red wine for each.
When Nell finally turned her full attention to her, Sarah was surprised to see a level of detachment behind her gaze that had never been there before.
Nell began to speak, and Sarah noted the carefulness behind each of her words. “I think we both know that our arrangement, as it originally was, is no longer tenable.” Her words were like taking a metal softball bat to the ribs. Sarah stared at her, unsure what to say because, once again, what theactual fuckwas her life right now? First Beth, now Nell?
But then it clicked. The prearranged table, the preset menu. God, even the timing was set.
“Oh my God.” Sarah blinked. “You’re breaking up with me?”
She tried not to laugh. The question was absurd to begin with because they weren’t even dating. That had been the entire point of their arrangement. No strings, no tethers, no feelings.
“It’s nothing personal, Sarah. Rule number eleven: nothing is permanent; plan accordingly. I was clear from the beginning that I don’t do relationships, and somewhere along the way, I know that line got blurred for you.”
Sarah gawked at her as their appetizer appeared—spring rolls, beautifully plated with swirls of dipping sauce on the side. The waiter set it down in front of them, nervously looking from her to Nell before quickly stepping away. They each reached for a spring roll at the same time, fingers brushing. Nell jumped, quickly retracting her hand at the contact. Sarah grabbed the spring roll out of spite, dipping it in the sauce before taking a bite. She needed to do something with her mouth that wasn’t letting Nell get an earful of exactly how angry she was right now.
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” Sarah said flatly, reaching for her water. Her throat was itchy, and weirdly tight.
Nell’s expression was strained. “Please don’t cry. That’s just going to make this so much harder?—”
“I’m not crying,” Sarah snapped, scratching at her throat again. She couldn’t clear this tickle. “I’m—hold on?—”
She coughed, taking another sip of water before coughing again.