Page 6 of What Broke First (The Cheating A$$hole #1)

Sarah was sorting laundry when her phone buzzed, a text from Matt.

Matt: I am sorry about today. Thank you for yesterday. I’ll bring their soccer ball back tomorrow. Also, I didn’t forget the bunny’s name. It’s Mr. Buttons.

She stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered for a second before she set the phone facedown on the dryer. She didn’t need thank-yous. She needed a time machine. Or a therapist with a wand.

In the living room, Emily was combing Mr. Buttons’ matted fur with a toothbrush.

Tommy was drawing something on the coffee table that would later require a magic eraser and some deep breathing. They were calm today. Whole. And that scared her more than anything, because they still thought Matt hung the moon.

And once, she had too.

She remembered the night he turned their backyard into a glowing campsite after a week that had unraveled her sanity. He strung up lights, grilled s’mores, told ghost stories in ridiculous accents, and held her hand like they hadn’t missed each other for months. Emily had fallen asleep with a marshmallow in her hair. Tommy whispered.

“Dad made the sky for us.”

Sarah had believed it. Every word.

But now she knew: Matt didn’t make the sky. He set the whole damn universe on fire and walked away whistling.

Matt sat in his car the next morning, gripping the soccer ball like it might explode. Or confess to something he couldn’t. He finally made it to the front porch, rang the doorbell, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Too late.

Sarah opened the door in jeans and a sweatshirt that still made his stomach flip. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the familiarity. Or perhaps it was because it looked better than anything Lily ever wore. Sarah didn’t have to try.

“You’re early,”

she said. He held up the soccer ball as if it were a sacred artifact.

“Peace offering, part two.”

She stepped aside, allowing him into the entryway, but no further.

“They’re still eating.”

He nodded, unsure what to do with his hands, his face, or his entire past. She leaned against the staircase railing, arms crossed.

“Lily still screaming?”

Matt blinked. “What?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“I am sure she had quite a bit to say after yesterday’s confrontation."

Matt looked away.

“She’s... passionate.”

Sarah tutted.

“She’s unhinged."

"She threw a wine glass,”

he admitted, surprising even himself.

“The other day, when I got home from seeing the kids...and you.”

Sarah’s mouth twitched. It could have been amusement. Could have been pity.

“You sure know how to pick 'em.”

Matt sighed.

“I didn’t pick her.”

Silence stretched between them.

“I know that doesn’t mean anything now,”

he said, quieter.

“But I’m trying. I’m starting therapy. I’ve stopped pretending I didn’t blow up the best thing I ever had.”

Sarah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced toward the kitchen, where laughter and cereal crunches echoed like a lullaby from a different life.

“The best thing you had,”

she repeated.

“But you didn’t even know it until you were in someone else’s bed.”

Matt looked at the floor. “I know.”

Sarah’s voice was cool, but not cruel.

“Don’t say you’re trying to fix us, Matt. Fixing us isn’t on the table. Fixing yourself is.”

He nodded.

“I’ll see you Thursday,”

she said, already backing toward the kitchen.

“Bring juice boxes. No sugar-free crap.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

That night, Sarah poured a glass of wine, opened her laptop, and stared at the blinking cursor in her dating app profile.

She delete.

“recently separated”

and replaced it wit.

“still deciding.”

Then she added.

“loves red wine, bookstores, and revenge served cold.”

She sipped her wine. Smirked. She hit save and scrolled. Within minutes, a match popped up.

Jason, 42. Likes hiking, grilling, and quoting Jimmy Fallon.

Jason: Hey there, beautiful. What’s a smart, sexy woman like you doing on an app like this?

Sarah: Hiding from the patriarchy. You?

Jason: Haha. You’re funny. I like that. Want to skip the small talk and meet up?

Sarah: Bold. But I don’t meet men whose entire personality i.

“owns tongs.”

Jason: Excuse me?

Sarah: You said grilling. It’s a red flag. I’ve been hurt before.

Jason: Wow, okay. You’re intense.

Sarah: I prefe.

“emotionally well-seasoned.”

Jason unmatched her. She chuckled. Another ping.

Elliot, 39. Former DJ turned financial advisor. Voted most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse.

Elliot: So what’s your favorite revenge story? Asking for a friend.

Sarah: I once sent my cheating ex a fruit basket with a card that said.

“Hope your vitamin C deficiency is as temporary as your loyalty.”

Elliot: That’s... strangely hot.

Sarah: It was a citrus-themed burn. Took effort.

Elliot: I like a woman with edge.

Sarah: I come with edge, trauma, and a deeply unhealthy relationship with cheese.

Elliot: Marry me.

She laughed then unmatched him.

Not because he said the wrong thing.

But because she wasn’t ready for the right thing.

Not yet.

She closed her laptop, sipped her wine, and whispered to herself.

“Well... that was foreplay, I guess.”