A good night’s sleep is nice, but it does nothing for a broken heart. Ice cream, usually a more effective cure-all, is also doing fuck-all for how I feel today. I’m still shoveling down spoonfuls of a tossed-together sundae from a large bowl while Lana watches.

“You’re really not gonna have any, Lana?”

“Maybe later.” Lana’s resting her chin on her hand. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Lucky her.

“This is breakfast today. I don’t care...I mean, I don’t wanna keep complaining, but I can’t believe it. Still.”

I consider the soggy, melting mess in the bowl. I throw the spoon down and give up.

“Tossing in the spoon already?” I don’t know if Lana’s trying to lighten the mood or if she just doesn’t want to deal with this shit today. I, on the other hand, have no choice but to deal with this shit.

“Fuck ice cream. Nothing can undo last night. I had my opportunity right there. Now it’s gone forever.”

Lana sits up a little, trying to at least attempt to humor my grave tone.

“Remind me, Em, what’s this opportunity exactly?”

I slide the ice cream bowl closer and start in on it again. Lana tries to suppress a smile.

“I can’t let it melt.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. Anyway, so WineBar, he’s right fucking there, standing outside a freaking taxi. He asks if I’m okay, and like gives me this look for half a second, but then he just leaves.”

“Back up a little. He was around for the bar or something?”

I shake my head, trying to convey how irritatingly unclear it all is.

“I don’t fucking know. That’s one thing that maybe I could have found out. You know, if I knew how to play my fucking cards right!”

I pick up the bowl. I’m feeling so frustrated with myself—with everything—that I want to smash it on the floor. I close my eyes, take a breath, and settle for placing it back down on the table kind of hard.

“What can I say, Em? That sucks.”

I sit back sullenly, crossing my arms.

“To put it mildly.”

“But what about before that?”

I sigh heavily. I can’t help it.

“What is this, a hypothetical situation analysis?”

“Um, yeah, sure. Okay, so let’s say WineBar shows up randomly in a taxi for some reason.”

I uncross my arms. I don’t know what Lana’s point is, but maybe she’ll have some advice to help make this situation less shitty.

“Yeah, but that’s what really happened, unfortunately.”

“Right, but instead of you being there with some dude, let’s say you’re by yourself, walking home, or you’re still in the bar with me.”

I close my eyes and take another breath.

“What are you getting at already?”

“Maybe you didn’t fuck it up with what you said or didn’t say before, maybe you fucked it up by being there, at that moment, with some other guy.”

Christ. I mean...fuck, seriously? Okay, I close my eyes once more, and now I’m literally seeing red.

I open my eyes and give Lana a look that I hope says everything. She looks startled, but she tries to recover with a guilty shrug. I start eating my ice cream again.

I think the sugar’s starting to kick in because I feel some tension drain out of me as I finish the last couple bites. And some motivation, for something. Not sure what, yet.

I enjoy the last solid spoonful of ice cream, firmly put the spoon down for good as I push the bowl away, and stand the fuck up.

“Whoa, that’s not regular standing, woman. You’ve got something to say!” Now Lana’s catching up.

“That’s right. And that something is—I’m leaving.”

“Wait, what? Leaving? Why do I feel like I’m getting dumped?”

I pick up the bowl and spoon to carry them to the kitchen. I need to formulate my words and my plan, a little more clearly.

I’m a top 100 romance author for fuck’s sake, crafting the stuff fantasies are made of—fabricating from nothing the types of love lives that most people can only dream about.

But right now, it feels like all I have are dreams as well.

After getting back from the kitchen, I feel like I have some things, if not everything, figured out. I walk confidently back to the table, almost strutting. Lana looks up from her phone.

“Um, who the hell are you? And what have you done with today’s sad version of Emily?”

I can’t quite force a smile, but Lana’s effort is appreciated.

“She’s still here, just with a bit more of a plan this time.”

Lana tosses her phone down on the table and narrows her eyes.

“You mean leaving? Whatever the fuck that means?”

“By leaving I mean going somewhere. For a while. My life’s too far off track right now, despite what I’ve accomplished as an author.”

Lana shrugs. That seems to be her thing today.

“Not everyone’s going to have perfect lives, no matter how successful.”

I sit down at the table, push back my seat a little, and look at Lana. I know she has to realize the spectrum between perfect and the mess my life is right now is fairly fucking wide.

“I need to get away and spend some time in the last place where my life was decisively not a mess. It might not make everything perfect, but maybe I can clear my head and start things in the right direction again.”

Lana picks her phone up from the table and starts looking at it again.

“Okay, I don’t know, Emily. I can’t argue with you.”

“Why would you want to?”

Lana puts her phone back down.

“I don’t. I just want you to be sure you’re making the right decision.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to worry about what the right decision is. Not today.

“Decisions. Who the fuck knows, anyway?”

“Can’t argue with that, either.”

Thanks to that, I’m finally able to smile a little, and Lana’s smiling back at me. It’s probably the closest we’ll get to laughing right now.

“Then it’s settled.” I’m trying to sound conclusive, because now I want to stop talking so I can start planning the trip.

“Just one last thing, Em. Where are you going?”

I guess I forgot to say.

“New York. Naturally.”