Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Fifteen

There’s no drooling over a shirtless Ryder from afar the following morning. He’s already standing in the kitchen, Scout panting at his feet when I enter the room.

I approach him to fill a mug with steaming coffee from the pot he’s standing next to.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” he repeats.

“Looks like you two had a busy morning?” I nod toward my exhausted dog.

“Yup. He should be nice and tired for your drive back.”

“An hour’s nothing. I brought him all the way to Pennfield.”

He doesn’t say anything, but Ryder’s knuckles lose any color as he grips his mug.

“What’s the fight about?” I ask. Our silence has exacerbated Tommy and Eliza’s loud voices on the opposite side of the kitchen.

“What to cook for breakfast, I believe.”

“Should have guessed.”

“It’s a common source of controversy."

I nod toward Eliza and Tommy. “I thought that might be us one day.”

“Arguing about breakfast foods?” he replies dryly.

“Engaged.” Obviously, I’m a masochist.

There’s a long stretch of silence, and I’m pretty sure I’ve pissed him off for the I’ve-lost-count-how-many-th time. We’re all departing shortly. I’ll see him at the wedding, but that’s not for another month. This might be my last chance to talk to him.

“It’s how I would have proposed.”

“What?” The single word isn’t enough to convey the shock I’m feeling. The counter’s the only thing keeping me steady and upright. That was pretty much the last thing I was expecting him to say in response to my blunt admission.

Ryder picks up the coffee pot and keeps his gaze on the steady stream of caffeine entering his mug as he refills it. “With breakfast food. Joe told me if I gave you blueberry scones, you’d say yes to just about anything.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I’m drowning in a deluge of emotions.

The knowledge Ryder considered our future to any extent is overwhelming.

That he talked to Joe about it is heartbreaking.

But most concerning?

If I could choose between breakfast in bed and a proposal in front of my parents and half the wait staff at Boston’s most exclusive restaurant—the proposal I accepted—I would choose blueberry scones.

“Ryder!” Tommy calls.

Ryder shoves off the counter and heads over to the island without another word.

Maybe he senses my turmoil.

Maybe he thought that revelation wouldn’t matter to me.

Either way, he misses how I have to turn away to hide the solitary tear sliding down my cheek.

* * *

Everyone prepares to leave shortly after breakfast. None of us linger for long, all having various commitments and work tomorrow. Plus, we all know we’ll see each other again at the wedding.

I give all the girls hugs. Then Tommy gives me one as well. I work my way through the guys, until I reach the last one.

Ryder and I stare at each other.

We’ve talked, both pleasantly and angrily. Teased. But we haven’t really touched.

He shrugs and I swallow, both of us trying to act like we’re not aware everyone else is surreptitiously watching us. We step forward simultaneously, meeting in the middle. Ryder loops his arms around my waist, tugging my body flush with his. I go willingly, tucking my head underneath his chin as I wind my hands around his back. Even through the cotton of his t-shirt, I can feel ripples of musculature. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his scent. Even in the salt air, he still smells the same as I remember. Like cedar and mint and clean laundry.

I exhale, and step away. His arms drop. Neither of us say anything. I pick up Scout and set him in the backseat of the sedan, shooing him inside the crate I brought but never used.

“Bye, everyone.” I wave, then quickly turn away to slide into the driver’s seat. I turn on the car and start driving immediately, worried I’ll find a reason to stay longer if I think about it for too long.

The drive back to the city is a long one. It takes closer to two hours than the one it’s meant to, thanks to heavy traffic. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who opted to flee the busy, sticky city for the weekend in favor of a sea breeze.

My brownstone feels too quiet and empty after the hustle and bustle of being in a house with almost a dozen other people. I get Scout settled, change into a dressier outfit, and head into the office to tackle some of the work I neglected during my weekend get-away.

The office is bustling when I arrive, just like I knew it would be. William jumps up from his cubicle when I enter the floor reserved for summer associates.

“Eleanor! I thought you wouldn’t be back until later!”

Since we’re at work, he just gives me a hug of greeting. I try not to compare it to Ryder’s. And fail.

“I wanted to beat the traffic. Didn’t do much good, unfortunately. Plus, Paige hardly let me do any work there. Figured I could catch up on some stuff before we head to dinner.”

“I don’t think Gray and Ellington is going to revoke their offer because you slacked for a weekend, Eleanor.” William grins, crinkling the corners of his brown eyes.

“More worried about my father,” I respond, and his smile turns knowing. He can certainly relate. “What time did you make the reservations for?”

“Seven.”

“Okay, perfect. Come get me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Will do,” William replies, dropping back down into his chair.

I continue down the row of cubicles until I reach my assigned one. Most of the ones I pass are occupied, and I smile at everyone who glances up to look at me.

I may be uncertain about a legal path, but it’s not because I’m unsure about my own abilities. I’m good at the research and writing that comprise the bulk of my duties. I quickly get lost in the familiar tasks and templates, startling when William approaches me hours later, ready to depart.

“Ready?” He gives me a tired smile.

“Yeah.” I save the document I was working on and close out of all the open tabs on my computer, standing and stretching.

Most of the cubicles still have residents, and I’m sure many, if not all, of them are judging the fact I arrived after them and am leaving before them. That’s one aspect of being a lawyer I definitely don’t enjoy. The cutthroat competitiveness.

“So? How was it?” William asks as we wait for the elevator to arrive.

“It was nice. Eliza and Tommy seem really happy.”

“Tommy was there?”

“Yeah. He was already planning to have his bachelor party on the Cape before Vegas got scrapped.”

“Huh. So not much of a girl’s trip after all?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“Scout cause any problems?”

“No. He loved it.”

The doors ding open, and we step inside the elevator.

“Garage,” William instructs the attendant.

The office building’s parking lot is half-full when the doors open again. An elite address such as this requires residents who don’t rest on laurels.

“I’ll meet you there?” William suggests.

“Yeah, sure.” Romantic.

“I’ll text you the address.” He gives me a quick kiss, and heads to the right. I walk left, toward my sedan. It’s dark when I drive out onto the street, headlights and the everlasting glow of fellow skyscrapers the only force against the night. I follow the directions the navigation system is expelling, heading in the direction of the seaport. I pull up in front of the restaurant and climb out, handing my keys to the valet.

William arrives a couple minutes later, and we head inside. It’s located right on the water, with sweeping views overlooking the harbor that was teeming with tea, once upon a time. The decor is classy and elegant, decorated in shades of white, pale blue, and navy with a clear nautical inspiration. William gives his name to the hostess, and she leads us over to a table tucked in the corner with an unobstructed view of the water. She hands us menus and rattles off the specials.

“My parents came here last week,” William tells me once she departs. “Said it was one of the best meals they’d had in ages.”

“I can’t wait,” I tell him. “Dinner last night was cod.”

“What’s wrong with cod?” William asks as he studies the menu.

“I don’t like it,” I reply, startled to learn he didn’t know that. I guess I never told him directly, just never ordered it. “Or any fish.”

“Too bad,” is William’s response. “The ceviche here is supposed to be amazing.”

The waitress returns, and I order a watermelon mint martini. William opts for a scotch.

“Did you end up leaving at a decent hour last night?” I ask him once she leaves again.

“Nope.” He yawns. “Almost three.”

“That’s not healthy,” I tell him.

He shrugs. “The work needed to get done. Not all of us got to go to the beach.”

His tone is teasing, but I take it as an affront.

“Right.”

The waitress returns with our drinks, and I seize the opportunity to order. “I’ll have the truffle fries, burrata toast, and the gnocchi.”

William raises his eyebrows at my large order but doesn’t say anything. “Just the salmon,” he adds.

The waitress scribbles down our requests and heads back in the direction of the kitchen. I take a long sip of my drink. Basil, watermelon, cranberry, and mint hit my tongue, along with a healthy dose of vodka. Paige would probably be beside herself.

William swishes his scotch around in his glass, then sniffs it.

I turn my gaze to the water, watching the city lights dance across the calm surface. William and I have been dating for almost three years. We ran out of small talk a long time ago. But it’s never struck me quite the same way as it is right now. Shouldn’t we have something to say to each other?

We don’t. Until the waitress returns with my fries and toast. My mouth waters as I stare down at the plates. The fries are drizzled with aioli and topped with shaved Parmesan. The toast is covered with prosciutto, burrata, pickled rhubarb, and a pomegranate reduction.

“Do you want any?” I ask William as I dig into the fries.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” He takes a sip of his scotch. “We should have ordered champagne.”

“Why?”

“To celebrate Gray and Ellington!”

“Oh. Right.”

William studies my less-than-enthused expression. “Are you worried about telling your dad?” he questions. More than anyone, he knows the pressure I face when it comes to following in my father’s footsteps. Even for what is objectively a better opportunity career-wise. I know that prestige is the only reason William is in full support.

“Sort of. But I’m also just… I don’t know.” It would be a lot easier to let this drop, but I forge ahead anyway. “Should I even take it?”

“What?”

“The job at Gray and Ellington. Should I take it?”

William looks at me with total shock. His handsome features are frozen with it. “What?” he repeats again. “What are you talking about, Eleanor?”

“I don’t know if I want it,” I admit.

“Don’t know if you want it… It’s the best law firm in the city! The job everyone we graduated with would list as their top choice!”

“Yeah, I know. But what would I really be doing there?”

“What?” William says for the third time. “Are you worried about the pressure? Because I’m sure it’s nothing you won’t be able to handle.”

I grab my cocktail and take a long pull. Even before I instigated it, I had a feeling this would be one of those conversations where hard liquor is a necessity. “No, I’m not worried about the work. I just feel like… maybe it’s not the work I want to be doing. I mean, what’s the point of it?”

William unfreezes his face to gape at me. “The point of representing clients? Settling lawsuits? It’s how issues are resolved, Eleanor.”

“Yeah, but what issues would I be resolving at Gray and Ellington, exactly? Helping a corporation pay off a mistake? Making sure an injured party receives as little money as possible?”

“Everyone deserves an attorney,” William replies. “Your job is to represent your client’s interests, not make judgments about their actions.”

“Not everyone receives an attorney with endless resources at their disposal, though,” I argue.

“So, what? You want to work for a non-profit?”

“I’m not sure what I want,” I reply truthfully. I’m not just talking about my job, but William doesn’t seem to sense that.

“I’ll support whatever you want to do,” he tells me. “But I think you’d be crazy to turn it down.”

“Noted.” I turn my gaze to the waitress approaching with our food.

Hating how uncertain I feel.