Page 27 of What Broke First (The Cheating A$$hole #1)

The kids were in bed, tucked in with their stuffed animals and nightlights casting faint glows on the walls. Sarah moved through the house in a daze, still distracted by what she hadn't heard. Not a word from Matt, not even a text to share the news.

Her phone sat face-up on the kitchen counter, untouched until now. She picked it up and hesitated, her thumb hovering over his name before finally typing;

Sarah: Hey, can you chat?

Matt had just racked the barbell at the gym when his phone buzzed. He swiped the screen with the side of his hand and saw Sarah's message.

Matt: Busy. Can it wait until tomorrow?

He tossed his towel over his shoulder, grabbed his water bottle, and moved to the next set. He didn't think twice.

Back at her house, Sarah stared at his response, the three words hitting her harder than she expected. She let out a quiet exhale and replied;

Sarah: Of course. Have a good night.

She placed the phone face down and walked to her room in silence.

Later, lying in bed, she let the soft ache in her chest lull her into a sleepy trance while PM Dawn’s I’d Die Without You played from her old Bluetooth speaker.

The lyrics dug in like they knew exactly where to go.

The next morning, Sarah moved in a fog. She poured cereal, packed lunches, and nodded absentmindedly through the kids' chatter.

"Mom, are you sick?" Emily asked, peering up at her.

"No, sweetheart,”

Sarah said, forcing a smile. "Just a little tired."

"You look sad, and you sound like Eyesore," Tommy added.

She ruffled his hair. "I'm okay, baby. Go grab your backpack."

The kids left for school, and Sarah stood by the sink a long time after, staring out the window but not really seeing anything.

Meanwhile, Matt was back at the office, where Jim Holloway stopped by with a folded program in his hand.

"We're announcing your partnership at the annual charity event this weekend," he said, tapping the paper against Matt's desk. "Press will be there. Big turnout. Hope you've got a tux."

Matt sat back. "No date required, right?" Jim chuckled. "Only if you want to bring one." Matt offered a quick nod. "Then I guess I'm flying solo.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of meetings, planning, and glances at the email thread coordinating the event.

Saturday night arrived quickly. Matt stood in front of his bedroom mirror, adjusting the collar of a perfectly tailored tuxedo. Crisp white shirt, jet-black jacket.

He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

The ballroom was glittering with lights and laughter when he stepped in. Cameras flashed. Glasses clinked. And when the announcement came, "Matt Taylor, our newest partner," he stood tall, shaking hands, posing for photos, smiling like he didn't still ache just under the surface.

The celebration was wild. The champagne flowed freely, and laughter echoed off the high ceilings. Matt was pulled into toast after toast, his name repeated with admiration.

He danced with three different women, none of whom he knew well, all of whom seemed delighted just to be in the orbit of the new partner.

Lily even stopped by during one song. She offered her hand with a simple, "One dance for old times sake?"

Matt hesitated for half a second, then nodded. As they moved together on the floor, she looked up at him with a softness he hadn't seen in a long time.

"I'm really happy for you, Matt," Lily said, her voice low. "Sarah's lucky, you know. Even if she doesn't know it."

Matt didn't flinch, didn't correct her, didn't say that Sarah had likely given up on him already. He just offered a small smile.

"I'm sorry things got messy," he said. "No hard feelings." She gave a crooked grin. "Well, it wouldn't be us if it weren't a little messy."

They both laughed, genuinely this time. The press snapped a few photos, but there was no spark, no danger. Just history fading out.

By the time he returned home, he was tipsy and flushed from laughter. He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over Sarah's contact.

He wanted to text her, tell her everything, the win, the feeling, how he'd danced but thought of her every time.

But it was after midnight.

Instead, he placed his phone on the bedside table, plugged it into the charger, turned on Champagne on the Rider by Magic City Hippies, and stepped into the shower. The music bounced off the tiles as he sang along, water steaming around him.

He felt good.

Accomplished, even.

He had just stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to the mirror, when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

LILY

1:12 a.m.

Incoming Call

He hesitated, towel slung low around his waist. For half a second, he considered ignoring it.

Then it buzzed again.

He answered.

"Lily?"

Her voice came through thick and syrupy.

“Mmm. You always answer my calls after midnight. That has to mean something."

He sat on the edge of the bed, already regretting it. ”You're drunk."

She giggled, the kind of giggle that used to mean his night was about to get very naked. ”Maybe. Maybe not. Who cares?"

"Lily..."

"I'm lying in bed," she whispered.

“Alone. Naked. Wondering if the new partner wants a celebratory encore. You still know where I live, right?"

Matt closed his eyes, hard. His jaw tensed. The blood in his body was absolutely not listening to reason.

He let out a breath through his nose and stood up, pacing the room once, twice.

"Lily...no."

She laughed, but it cracked in the middle. "No? God, you used to want me."

"That's not who I am anymore."

"You sure? Because I'd put money on you being hard right now."

His silence gave her the answer.

"I knew it,”

she said, voice dropping. ”You still want me."

"I want peace, Lily,”

Matt said quietly. ”And you...you're a bad memory. One, I'm done replaying."

She went silent for a beat.

Then came the sob. Fragile. Slurred. Real.

"Why can't you just forget her, Matt?" she whispered. ”Why can't you just love me?"

He didn't answer right away. He sat down, heart pounding, towel clinging to his damp skin.

"You deserve someone who doesn't wake up every day trying to fix the mess he made," he said. ”Someone who isn't carrying around the ghost of what he lost."

She sniffed.

"Goodnight, Lily."

"Matt..."

He hung up.

The silence that followed was deafening. But it was clean.

He felt like he'd chosen the right kind of pain.