Page 9 of Heart Breaker

Me: I didn’t think I’d end up in a made-up marriage, but here we are.

Wes: Fair. How about Brew House for coffee? 3pm?

I hesitate, my thumbs hovering over my phone. If I’m going to get myself out of his mess, we need to talk.

Me: Fine. Don’t be late.

Wes: I won’t.

I stare at the screen for a second longer before tossing my phone back onto the couch. My heart thuds in my chest, like it’s reminding me it’s there. It’s a steady rhythm I don’t take for granted, a reminder that I’m still here. I feel it move through me—chest, lungs, everywhere—grounding me in a way that still catches me off guard. I inhale slowly, letting it settle.

My mind flickers—did I take my medication this morning?

I did. I always do. Still, I press my palm lightly to my chest to confirm everything feels normal.

Still beating. Still here.

And I am too.

FOUR

Lottie

My thoughts spiral on the drive to Brew House. One question after another race through my mind until it feels like I have twenty tabs open in my brain. More than once, I think about calling my dad, knowing he’d say exactly the right thing to help make sense of everything. But he has enough to deal with without adding my problems to the mix. He needs rest right now.

My dad’s been sick for a long time. He was diagnosed with heart disease when he was in his early twenties. He’s managed it with medication and a healthy lifestyle for most of his life, but last year he suffered a heart attack and it’s been a tough road ever since. Now he’s in the United States undergoing an experimental regenerative treatment that’s supposed to strengthen his weakened heart. It’s expensive—more expensive than my family can comfortably afford, but we’re all clinging to the hope that it will buy him more time.

I pull into an open spot just outside of Brew House, Deep Cove’s busiest little coffee shop. Pausing outside the door, I take a deep breath to steady myself before reaching for the handle.

Wes Winters, you have some serious explaining to do.

The door swings open before I even have a chance to push it. Madeline steps out, iced coffee in hand, and stops abruptly when she sees me standing right in front of her.

“Charlotte Hart.”

I wince.

Madeline and I met in boarding school, where we somehow ended up in the same orbit despite being completely different people. She was on the debate team while I was always lost in my music. That pretty much sums up our personalities. She’s composed, thoughtful, cautious. I’ve always been the opposite—spontaneous and open. I say yes and then deal with the consequences later. Our friendship didn’t make much sense at first, and it probably still doesn’t, but she’s my best friend in the whole world and somehow despite our differences, we just get each other. There’s no one I’d rather spend my time with.

“Why,” she says, stopping in front of me, “have you not returned a single one of my messages?”

I give her my most innocent look. “It’s only been twenty-four hours. I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve heard. How are you?”

I shrug. “Oh, you know…adjusting to married life, obviously. It’s been a big transition. New last name, new family…” I gesture between us. “On the bright side, I think this makes us sisters-in-law.”

She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I heard all about it from Jesse. I’m sorry. I hate this.”

“Imagine how I feel.”

Her expression softens just a little. “You’re going to see Wes now, aren’t you?”

I nod then glance back toward the coffee shop entrance. “Did you see him in there?”

“I did.”

Madeline exhales. “What a mess. I’m so glad I’m not you.”