Cassie
Derek didn’t make it easy on me by being angry.
I almost wished he had.
Instead, he sat across from me Tuesday afternoon with his coffee between both hands and listened while I stumbled through an explanation I’d rehearsed at least twenty times and somehow still couldn’t get right.
“This isn’t because you did anything,” I said.
“I know.”
“You’ve been amazing.”
“I know that too.”
I frowned. “You’re making this really difficult.”
That made him smile. “Would you prefer I throw something?”
“Maybe a napkin.”
He picked one up, tossed it at me, and it landed pathetically beside my coffee.
“There. Feel better?”
“A little.”
We both laughed, which somehow made my eyes burn.
Derek’s smile faded.
“You’re ending this.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
He leaned back an
