On sitcoms, after a split the man typically finds some new girl to fuck around with while the girl sits around sobbing into her Häagen-Dazs ice cream. But in real life, men don’t move on so quickly or get over it so easily, either.

Regardless of the reason for the break, and mine is pretty damn good—he is the better man for her, he has his shit together—straight and simple.

Even knowing this, I still feel like shit.

That doesn’t matter. We needed to end. I could see she was waffling, knew she was second-guessing our decision, and when the text presented itself, I pounced.

I mean if Chase and Gigi couldn’t make it, how the hell could Amelia and I?

Yeah, I knew Amelia wasn’t carrying on with him. She was in this thing we had going on together all the way. A guy can tell. But we had to end, and there it was—the perfect reason.

The way to let her go.

A clean break.

The end.

The truth is, though, there is no good way to break up. It’s always messy. Always. Amelia and I were fooling ourselves into thinking our end wouldn’t be.

Breakups suck. No ifs, ands, or buts. The only breakup I remember being amicable was my first. It happened the summer before college. I had graduated; she hadn’t. I was going off to college and leaving the show; she wasn’t. For months, we knew it would be ending. When it did, we enjoyed a candlelit dinner and swapped breakup gifts, complete with wrapping paper. As breakups go, it was flawless. But the niceties can account for only so much—in the end, it did nothing to dull the hurt.

Since then, besides Sasha, I haven’t let a girl in, other than Amelia. Seeing Sasha last night was strange. I felt nothing but a fondness for all the years we shared. And later, when we talked, she told me she felt the same. It felt good to put her in my past once and for all.

Setting my coffee mug on the counter, I wonder when I will be able to say the same about Amelia because right now, it fucking hurts.

I grab my pencil and take these feelings and pour them into this intimate exchange between Kellan and Kate.

It’s the only thing I can do with them.

Suddenly, the kitchen door swings open.

My head jerks up from my manuscript to see Cam staring at me with a murderous look on his face. Fury blazes in his eyes, and I know. I know she’s told him. And fuck, I should have been more ready for this, but I’m not.

Stomping toward me, he grabs me by the neck of my shirt and hauls me off the kitchen stool I’ve been sitting on since Amelia left hours and hours ago.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cam roars as his fist connects with my jaw in an explosive punch.

Stumbling back against the counter, I just stare at him. I won’t fight back. I can’t. I deserve this. And besides, it’s not like I didn’t know this day would come. I knew it all along, didn’t I?

Taking the three steps that separate us in a matter of seconds, Cam takes hold of me again, but this time pushes me backward and looms over me. “I trusted you with my sister. Trusted you to do the right thing. And I just put her on a plane in tears. So tell me, friend, how is that the right thing?”

Shit, I can’t even look him in the eye. Guilt racks me, and I have no answer for him. How do I tell him it was the only way? That I did it for her. He would never see it that way. She’s his baby sister. The one he adores. The last thing he wants is for her to get hurt.

Fuck, I did this all wrong.

Did her and me all wrong.

Shoving me back one more time, he gives me a look of disgust. “You can be an asshole, you know that?” he says hoarsely, and then pounds across the wooden floor until he reaches the kitchen door. With his hand on the knob, he pauses. “I thought you were better than that.”

When the door slams, and I’m alone in his wake, all I can think is…I am.

I am.

All I need is time to prove it.

And I will.