That was it. I was done fighting with him … for him. I’d promised myself, after Chad, that I wouldn’t wallow over a man who didn’t deserve me. Sure, there hadn’t been anyone truly serious between him and SJ, but if ever there was a time to put myself first, this was it.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. “Fine. You want to take the coward’s way out? Consider us broken up. Or whatever you want to call it, since according to your revised version of events, this was never real to begin with.”

His lips parted, his eyes glistening. For a moment he said nothing, just watched me in a way that made me want to howl.

“This … is for the best, Mou … Jemma.” His voice cracked, and it took everything in me not to rush to him, to snuggle into his arms, to console him. To demand that whatever happened in Hell, he should talk to me, tell me how I could help him through it, not lie to us both and push me away.

But I held myself apart, steeling myself to finish this. If he was going to break my heart, I was bloody well getting the last word.

“You know, you’re right. This isn’t a romance novel. This is real life. And in real life, when a man runs like a coward at the first sign that things might be getting serious … when he freaks out the second he realises that he’s feeling all these big, scary feelings, that’s not cute. It’s a massive red flag. You are a walking, talking red flag, Satan Junior!”

He said nothing, but his eyes were so terribly sad that I almost couldn’t bring myself to make my final point. Almost.

“So, since this is real life, and not a romance novel, everything I said about third-act breakups to you before—all the grovelling to get her back stuff—that doesn’t apply. There is literally no amount of grovelling you could do that would convince me to take you back.”

“I … alright,” he muttered. My heart lurched painfully as his gaze slid away towards the window again. The world outside was sunny. Spring was really digging its claws into the city.

I would have loved to show him my favourite warm weather haunts. To take him to all my markets and let his fiendish ferret-Hounds cavort all over Luci while he watched me work. To share cinnamon donuts with him while snuggling on the couch. Perhaps I’d even let him read over my shoulder while I devoured a new release book. To have him tag along to my hospital visits—give the nurses more to swoon about and the girls more to gossip about.

We wouldn’t have any of those things. Not that he deserved them with me, the jerk.

But that didn’t stop me from mourning the loss of them.