Page 13 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

I snorted. “I’m not worried about that.” There was no fear of me actually catching feelings because I was almost certain at this point that I was incapable of it, but I wasn’t beyond faking it. People were questioning why we needed the rules—I was going to show them. Give them a cautionary tale that would stamp out any lingering doubt once and for all. It would take a dash of truth for believability’s sake and probably a little embellishing to make it podcast-worthy. A story juicy enough to overshadow Jo’s wedding and reel our listeners back in. I could make that happen.

She unsealed the bottle from her lips with a pop. “There’s one glaring problem with this whole ‘no rules’ thing, though.” I shot her a curious look and she continued, “You haven’t hooked up with a guy in, what, the last year?”

“Ten months and counting,” I confirmed, only a touch wistfully. I missed sex, but I didn’t miss the way I sometimes felt afterwards: a sort of hookup hangover, like I wasn’t happy but couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It didn’t happen every time, but it happened often enough that I’d stopped sleeping with strangers altogether. It was just sex; I could live without it.

I routinely ignored that nagging thought that maybe just sex was the problem.

“It’s not going to make for very exciting content if it’s just a bunch of stories of you sitting around doing nothing,” Jo pointed out.

“I’ll worry about that.” She didn’t need to know the way my stomach bottomed out thinking about it, that I couldn’t picture myself enjoying a hookup these days any more than I could imagine myself committing to someone. “You focus on getting married.”

I reached over to pinch her cheek and she smacked my hand away, laughing. “Shut up.”

With a clear vision for Season Seven forming in my mind, I grabbed my phone.

Ramping up some fresh content for Season Seven

July 15 at 1:34 PM

Hello, all our lovely Patrons,

We’ve been reading your recent comments and want to say first and foremost that WE HEAR YOU.

You started listening to 7R4BH because we were doing something fresh and interesting, pushing the limits of what girls are “supposed” to talk about. But after six seasons, we recognize that some of those conversations have grown stale. So, we’re hitting the pavement in search of new content that challenges our way of thinking. We want to start a whole new dialogue by putting our philosophy to the test, forcing ourselves to confront the question: What really happens if you don’t follow the rules?

To our long-term listeners, we’re so grateful for your continued faith in us. To our new listeners, welcome to the #SingleNotSeeking revolution.

Get ready to shake things up.

Love you all,

Go & Jo

CHAPTER6

Peter and Declan returned about half an hour later with Autumn in tow, and Lucas Montpelier trailing after them. “They arrived on the same ferry,” Peter explained. “We took them to the hotel to change and drop off their things.”

While Jo got up to introduce herself to Lucas, Autumn came to join me. She was her usual elegant self in a print sarong swept over a black keyhole one-piece, her ink-black hair slicked into a high ponytail. “Hey, girlie.” She moved an oversized pillow out of the way so that she could settle on the wicker lounge beside me. “How you been? How’s the podcast?”

“Great,” I said, because I couldn’t even begin to summarize all the various things I’d been since I last saw her over a year ago, great not necessarily among them. “It’s the off-season, so, you know …”

She cast a glance over to where Jo was shaking hands with Lucas before lowering her voice. “Listen, I’m ecstatic to have Jo for a sister-in-law and everything, but even I can recognize that a wedding doesn’t really make for the best content.”

“We’re not too worried about it,” I said in what I hoped was an offhanded way. “I’m actually working on some new stuff, starting today.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Under wraps for now. What about you?” I asked, hoping to change the subject. “Any news on the romantic front?” Outside of her expensive and particular taste in bags and shoes, Autumn was notoriously selective in what she revealed about her dating life. Assuming she even had a dating life, because I was pretty sure she intimidated the shit out of any man within a twenty-mile radius.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about that.” She smiled coyly. “My dating life is pretty boring compared to yours.”

“You’d be surprised.” Scaring men off seemed like as reasonable an approach as any to avoiding the pitfalls of modern dating. No need to worry about being ghosted the morning after if there was no night before. “What about your brother’s friends?” I nodded in Lucas’s direction. He wasn’t unattractive—his boyish looks were tempered by premature grays and sharp blue eyes—but he’d always struck me as a little conceited. Winking at paparazzi, posting shirtless gym selfies all over Instagram, the rumors that he slid into a different girl’s DMs every day of the week. We all played the game, to some extent, but the Montpelier family was batting in an entirely different league.

“I’m not twelve.” Autumn rolled her eyes playfully. “Declan is a sweetheart and I’ve known him forever, but he’s not really my type. And Lucas is … well, Lucas.” She inclined her head in his direction, where the server was touching his arm and leaning in closer than needed to take his order.

I was more stuck on her comment about Declan—a sweetheart? I watched him take a long drag from his beer, Adam’s apple bobbing. But before I could pick Autumn’s brain any further, Jo rejoined us on the lounge. The wicker crackled beneath the newfound weight. She passed me a michelada with Tajín. So much for keeping the drinking to a minimum, but this was my first full day on the island, and all things considered, it wouldn’t kill me to loosen up.

I took a healthy swig of the michelada, the bright, salty flavor a welcome change. “Where’s Liv?” I asked. If my memory of the cheat sheet served, she was the only member of the wedding party still absent.