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I nod. Take a sip of my drink. Heave an exaggerated sigh. “Yep.”

Lena blinks, looks over at the TV and tilts her head. We’re at a bar on a Wednesday night, drowning our work exhaustion in cheap cocktails and salty appetizers. “You must be lying to me.”

“I am so not lying.” I almost wish I was ly

ing sometimes.

It’s really difficult to forget your ex when he’s everywhere. Like right now. There he is on the seventy-five-inch TV screen, the camera zoomed in on his ridiculously handsome face that he can’t hide even when he’s wearing a stupid helmet.

The restaurant we’re at replays the football games from the weekend. I know this, yet I still choose to come here. And that says a lot.

Like I’m a glutton for punishment.

“And you claim he was your first.” Lena’s eyebrows go way up—like disappear-in-her-hairline up.

“He was totally my first.” Not my last, though. He promised me forever and that so didn’t happen.

“I am having a really hard time wrapping my head around this.” It’s Lena’s turn to take a drink, and she practically drains her glass before setting it on the round table between us with a loud thump. “You really went out with the Jordan Tuttle?”

“Oh yeah. For most of my senior year. And a little bit into college.” That’s where we fell apart. I was stuck at home. He was gone, the new big man on campus at USC. Instantly famous, with adoring groupies and people wanting to be his friend and the media wanting to talk to him about his stats, his future, his charisma—and this all happened during his freshman year in college.

It only got worse as time went on. Not that I knew much about it, since I was a giant idiot and broke up with him.

Yes. You heard me right. I broke up with him.

What the hell was wrong with me?

When you’re nineteen, broke and feeling alone with a brain full of insecurities and not much else, you make stupid, selfish choices. Now that I’m older and supposedly wiser, I can see there was a lot wrong with me.

“So what happened? Who broke up with who?” Lena asks.

When I admit my connection to Jordan, this is where it always gets sticky. “I, uh, broke up with him.”

Her mouth drops open. She’s quiet for a beat, two beats. Three. “Say what?”

“It’s true.” I take another sip of my drink, then shake the glass so the ice rattles. “It wasn’t working between us.”

Cheers erupt from the television and I glance up to see Tuttle throwing another touchdown pass to Niner wide receiver Tucker McCloud.

Of course he did. That’s what Jordan does.

And he’s very, very good at it.

“Was he a dick?” Lena makes a sympathetic face. “Did he cheat on you?”

“No, he didn’t. He just…didn’t have time for me.” Oh, that sounds pathetic, but it’s true. He was so busy all the damn time. It’s not like he meant to ignore me, but it felt that way. I was sad and all alone and massively insecure, which was a big problem throughout the entirety of our relationship. I never felt like enough in Tuttle’s presence, even though he reassured me countless times that I was more than enough. That I was his entire world.

And I still ended things with him.

I felt stuck in my going-nowhere life, while his had taken off. It was like his life changed every single day, with opportunities being thrown at him from every direction. I couldn’t compete. I didn’t feel good enough. I wasn’t strong enough to deal.

So I broke it off. Via text.

Groaning, I prop my elbows on the table and rest my head in my hands. “I think I broke his heart.”

“What? He doesn’t look like he’s missing you or anything.” I look up to glare at my friend and coworker. “Come on! It’s true! He’s gorgeous. And he always has a girl on his arm every time I see him in a magazine or on a gossip site. Wasn’t he going out with that one famous model? The one who’s always on the cover of Vogue?”

“Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about him right now.” I cover my face with my hands, tempted to scream. Tempted to straight up lose my crap and punch something.


Tags: Monica Murphy Forever Yours Romance