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Can I call you?
I frown. Harper doesn’t usually ask for permission to talk.
Me:
Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?
The three dots appear immediately, then disappear. Then reappear.
Harper:
Rob and I broke up.
Oh shit. Harper’s been with Rob since…forever. Literally. I’m talking middle school, when they were like twelve. She thought he’d propose when they were out of college, but he didn’t propose until five years after they graduated. They’ve been planning their wedding for almost two years now.
Me:
What happened?
Harper:
Can’t text it. Too much. Are you free?
“Is everything okay?” Violet asks.
“Uh, well, I don’t know. Harper wants to talk. Apparently, she and Rob broke up.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh, wow. You can head inside if you need some privacy.”
I nod, already halfway out of my chair. The sliding door sticks for a second before giving way, and I step into the quiet of the house. The noise of the backyard dulls to a muffled hum as I dial her number.
She picks up immediately. “Hi, Whit.” Her voice is smooth. The same tone she uses when she’s walking a client through a contract clause or politely dismantling someone in a boardroom.
“You okay?” I ask gently, lowering myself onto a barstool.
“I…guess. Rob and I decided to end things. It was mutual.”
“Okay…” I say carefully. “How are you feeling?”
There’s a pause. I can almost see her standing in her immaculate apartment, spine straight, probably still in work clothes even though it’s Saturday, auburn hair perfectly in place.
“It was the logical decision,” she says. “We have different long-term goals.”
“I see. Can I ask what these…goals are?”
“Rob wants children immediately after the wedding,” Harper says. “I don’t. He keeps reminding me that I’m twenty-nine, and we’ve been discussing it for months, but neither of us is willing to compromise on that particular issue.”
My stomach drops. “Harper.”
“It’s fine, Whitley. Really. We had a very productive conversation about it last week. We both acknowledged that continuing the relationship would be unfair to both of us.”
I close my eyes, gripping the phone tighter. This is so Harper—reducing heartbreak to bullet points and logical conclusions. But I know her. I know the way she processes things.
“How long have you been thinking about this?” I ask softly.
“A while.” Her voice wavers, just barely. “I kept hoping I’d change my mind. That maybe I’d wake up one day and suddenly want what he wants. But I don’t. I can’t force myself to want children right now just to keep him.”
“No, you can’t,” I agree. “I’m so sorry, Harp.”
