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Practical. God, I hate how reasonable he sounds. How easily he can write us off like a failed investment. Like I’m nothing more than a line item in his ledger, easily erased and forgotten. To be rid of me and all the mess I bring.
“I’ll…” His hand rests on the door handle. “See you around.”
“Sure.” The words taste like the baking soda, bitter and medicinal. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Take care of yourself, cupcake.”
The door clicks shut behind him with devastating finality.
A knife to my heart would be the same.
I stare at the glass on the counter, half-empty and cloudy with dissolved baking soda. Such a small thing to represent everything I’m losing.
Everything I’ve already lost.
That’s what I wanted, right?
Space. Distance. Control.
TWENTY-SIX
NAOMI
Days blend into a haze of spreadsheets and coffee.
Numbers don’t ask questions. Numbers don’t care if I skip lunch. Numbers don’t look at me with concern like Blake does, or?—
I don’t need Brandon Milton.
The mantra echoes through my head during budget meetings, late nights at the office, and morning runs that leave my legs shaking and my lungs burning.
I don’t need anyone.
My phone stays dark. No texts about dinner plans. No pictures of food. No random memes at midnight that make me smile despite myself.
This is better.
The week crawls by on autopilot. Wake up. Run. Work. Home. Sleep. Repeat. The rhythm should feel familiar, it’s how I survived the last months without Brandon crashing into my day with his dimpled smile and stupid pet names.
So what’s a few more?
Or forever…
And the day I dreaded the most sneaks up. Thursday.
Our standing dinner reservation at Elliot’s hangs in the air like a question mark. Do we even still have dinner dates? Did ending our arrangement mean ending everything?
My fingers hover over Brandon’s contact info.
Should I ask? Write?
Fuck this.
The drive to Elliot’s doesn’t take long, and before I know it, I’m inside, but?—
Our table sits empty. The table where Brandon always waits for me is… empty.
Marcus appears beside me. “Water with lemon, Ms Smith?”