The note sits in my purse, folded and refolded so many times the creases are starting to tear. I know every cold, impersonal word by heart. "Called back to New York on urgent business." The professional tone. The fucking bonus payment, like I was just another transaction he needed to close out.
My phone buzzes with a text from Izzy.
Coffee in 20? Need to see your face and make sure you're alive.
I text back a thumbs up and force myself off the couch. A shower helps a little, hot water washing away the airplane smell if not the hollowness in my chest. I dress in jeans and an oversized sweater—attempting to create some cozy-ness against the April chill.
Izzy's already at our usual spot when I arrive, two steaming mugs on the table and a plate with my favorite lemon scones.Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I realize I must look worse than I thought.
"Jesus, Cami," she says, standing to hug me. She smells like that expensive perfume she splurges on. "You look like you got a first-class ticket on Heartbreak Airlines."
I sink into the chair across from her. "That's pretty much what happened."
Izzy pushes a coffee toward me. "Spill. And I don't mean the coffee."
"He left." The words taste bitter. Izzy knows so much of this story through texts but she doesn’t know about the ending. "After... after everything. After the things we did. He just... left."
"What do you mean 'left'?" Izzy's perfectly penciled eyebrows scrunch together.
I pull the crumpled note from my purse and slide it across the table. Izzy reads it, her expression darkening with each line.
"That motherfucker," she whispers, then louder, "Asshole."
An older woman at the next table glances over with disapproval, but Izzy doesn't notice or care.
"He left you a NOTE?" She slaps the paper down. "After taking your virginity? After all that romantic shit on the sailboat you told me about?"
I wince. "Keep your voice down."
"I will not." She lowers her voice anyway. "Please let me hate-bomb that asshole. I'll write shit reviews on his properties. I'll tell everyone he has a tiny dick."
Despite everything, I choke out a laugh. "He definitely doesn't have that problem."
"Ugh, that makes it worse." Izzy tears a scone in half with unnecessary violence. "So he's good in bed AND a complete dickhead. The worst combination."
I wrap my hands around my mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. "I feel so stupid, Izz. I knew what this was. Whathewas. But then he'd look at me a certain way or say something that made me think..."
"That he wasn't just another rich asshole using his power to get laid?" She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "You're not stupid. He's manipulative. It's what guys like him do."
"The worst part is I still want him." My voice catches. "How pathetic is that? He treated me like a fuck buddy, and I'm sitting here missing him."
Izzy's eyes soften. "Not pathetic. Human." She takes a sip of her coffee. "It was your first time. With an experienced guy who apparently knows what he's doing. That creates feelings, even when the guy doesn't deserve them."
I pick at my scone, my appetite gone. "I don't even recognize myself, Izz. A week ago, I was this focused, ambitious person with a plan. Now I'm... what? Pining over some jerk who couldn't even say goodbye to my face?"
"You're still that person." Izzy's voice turns fierce. "You nailed that project. Don't let what happened in the bedroom erase that."
I nod, wanting to believe her. "It just feels like he took something from me that I can't get back. And I don't mean my virginity."
"Your dreams?" Izzy suggests, gentler now.
"Maybe." I stare into my coffee. "Or maybe just my confidence that I know what I'm doing."
"None of us know what we're doing, babe." She reaches for my hand again. "Especially not with men. They're basically a different species."
We sit in silence for a moment. A barista calls out an order. Someone laughs too loudly. Life continuing as if mine hasn't been upended.
"Seriously though," Izzy says, her tone lightening. "Just say the word and I will destroy him online."
