“Why do you suppose I do that?” I asked. “Do you think I have bad self-esteem?”

Greg leaned back, resting his head against the couch, too. “No. I don’t think that’s it. But you do seem to have an issue with your self-worth. You have a pattern of picking guys who are broken or damaged or whatever you want to call us, and then you throw yourself into trying to make everything better, which is lovely but—”

“But what?”

“You can’t fix other people, honey. They have to want to fix themselves. You need to stop settling for the diamonds in the rough, Annabelle. You deserve so much more. You deserve someone who is willing to fix their shit for you.”

We were quiet for a while. My brain was reeling. This new self-awareness changed everything.

“So are we good?” he asked.

“We will be,” I said. “Now that we’ve figured out what’s wrong with me, let’s do you.”

“Not necessary,” he said. “I already know what’s wrong.”

“Oh, really,” I said. “What’s that?”

“I’m an asshole.” He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and I burst out laughing. For the first time since we’d split, I realized I’d missed him.

“Sophie’s wrong, you know,” I said.

“About?”

“You.”

“You told her I was in town?” he asked. I nodded. “Does she still call me the big disappointment?”

“We shortened it to the BD,” I said. He laughed and shook his head. I reached across the couch and patted his hand with mine. “But I think maybe you’ve outgrown it.”

“Well, I’m kind of partial to the initials,” he said. “I’ll just tell people they stand for something else.” He wagged his eyebrows at me, and I shook my head. Musicians.

We sat side by side for a long time, reminiscing about the good times we’d had and sharing news about our mutual friends and acquaintances. I made dinner and we laughed all the way through the meal, especially when Sir arrived and looked at Greg with his whiskers twitching as if he’d taken his seat.

When it was time for him to leave, I was genuinely sorry to see him go.

“Stay in touch?” he asked when he hugged me good-bye.

“Definitely,” I said.

He tipped his head to the side as his gaze met mine. “It was good to see you, Annabelle.”

“You too, Greg,” I said.

He put on his helmet and climbed onto his motorcycle. With a roar of the engine, he shot out of the drive. I waved until he disappeared from sight.