Our server reappeared, pouring a small amount of ruby wine into each of our glasses and waiting expectantly. It took a moment to realize he was waiting for us to sample it, but I didn’t know what wine should taste like in the first place. I watched while Luke swirled the dark red liquid in his glass and tasted it, then nodded in approval. The server filled our glasses partway before leaving again.

“It looks like it’ll be Tampa Bay or Dallas,” Luke began.

“That’s great.” I took a sip of my wine, suppressing a grimace. It was astringent, like sour grapes and sadness. How did anyone find this enjoyable? “I know you’ve been hoping for that.”

“I have. But…” He trailed off.

“What is it?” A money issue? Or a disagreement over the terms? Luke wanted a clause in the contract to ensure he’d get playoff time in his first year, should the team make it that far. But not all organizations were willing to agree to that.

“I think we should take a break.”

My mouth went dry. “A break?”

Luke nodded. “I’m leaving soon. Let’s not make that harder than it needs to be.”

I blinked, trying to process his words, but my brain kept freezing like a glitchy computer. Error: does not compute.

“You’re not leaving until the end of the school year.”

“But you knew this was coming…right?” His expression was somewhere between pity and incredulity.

My breath snagged and my eyes pricked with tears. Of course I didn’t. If I did, why would I have poured myself into this sexy, low-cut dress I couldn’t afford, borrowed Amelia’s four-inch heels from hell, and put on this much makeup? Hell, I was even wearing lipstick. Lipstick.

Obviously, I thought we’d discuss commitment, not coming to an end.

“Wait.” I frowned, working through the subtext behind what he’d said. “Are you asking for a break? Or a breakup?”

He hesitated. “The second one, I guess.”

“You guess?” My voice climbed an octave, drawing the attention of the people dining around us. Several turned and stared. A few even glared. “We’ve been down this road before, Luke. This time it’ll be permanent.”

Luke cringed, making a lowering motion with his hands. “Let’s not make a scene, B.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I grabbed my wine and took an unladylike gulp. Gross. Slamming the glass down, I shot figurative daggers at him.

“Am I embarrassing you while you break up with me in public on my birthday? Is that why you did it here? So I couldn’t make a scene?” Hot tears welled again. I gritted my teeth and swallowed. Right now, it was easier to be mad than sad.