We went to the Starbucks round the corner, where I sat and ugly-cried into a raspberry and white chocolate muffin.
Matthew would have had a perfect, probably monogrammed silk handkerchief to give me. Instead I am with George, and she pushing a stack of paper napkins across the table to me.
But then, she’d never broken my heart a bunch of times and topped it off by engaging herself to a man I knew was the last person in the world who could make her happy.
In any case, I eventually ran out of tears. Also gulps and hiccoughs and wails and snot. And then George brought me a big glass of water and said, “Do you want to have s*x?”
“Um.” I blinked my sticky eyes. “What?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m really bad at reassuring people and really good at f*****g them. But I’m open to either.”
“I…
