After leaving Nate’s the first time, I’d gone home, put on my pajamas and cried buckets into my pillow. I kept asking myself how over and over again.

How could he have done this to me? How could I have trusted him? How could he have fooled me so completely? How could I have been so dumb? How could he have said those things to me and not meant them? How could I have fallen in love with someone so duplicitous? Did I not have a single good instinct?

And why had he done this—what was the point? Had he only wanted my help with the baby all along? Had he only wanted to fuck me for a couple weeks? Had he honestly felt nothing for me all this time?

I didn’t want to believe that. But what choice did I have?

Eventually, I’d given up on sleep and gone down to the couch. I was channel surfing, attempting in vain to find something to take my mind off my broken heart, when I’d heard Nate talking in the hall. Unable to help myself, I’d gone to the door and pressed my ear to it.

When I heard him say something about the emergency room, I’d opened the door without even thinking about it.

Everything after that, I’d done for Paisley. Not for Nate.

I was so angry with him. He’d done exactly what he’d said he wouldn’t do—bullshit me. He’d pretended like he was better than all those other guys. He’d been good at it. He’d had me convinced I meant something to him.

He’d had me convinced we belonged together, and to each other. After everything he’d said to me, he turned out to be like everyone else. It hurt.

Maybe it had only been two weeks since we’d been dating, but we’d been friends for three years. He knew my insecurities, and it felt like he’d used them against me.

There was no excuse—not that he’d tried very hard to give me one.

I felt like such a fool.

After leaving his apartment the second time, I went home and collapsed into bed a second time. But I still couldn’t sleep. I was worried about Paisley, heartbroken about Nate, and angry with myself. I’d tried so hard to do things right this time! I’d been patient and understanding. Yes, it had been hard to keep my feelings in check, but it’s not like I could help that. Feelings weren’t something I could control. And it wasn’t as if I’d thrown myself at him and declared my undying love. I’d taken my cues from him and moved at his pace. It was Nate who’d come to me asking for a chance, Nate texting me to come over after work every night, Nate who’d said to me, I don’t deserve you.

Well, I didn’t deserve what he’d done to me—but it was hard not to feel like it was partly my fault.

After getting only a couple fitful hours of sleep, I didn’t feel like getting ready and going out for brunch the next morning. I texted my sisters that I wasn’t up for it, and they wanted to know what was wrong. I didn’t feel like going into the whole thing via text, so I called Stella.

“Hey, what’s going on?” she asked.

“Nate and I broke up last night.” I lay back on my pillow and pulled up the blankets. Fresh tears threatened.

She gasped. “Oh, no! Why?”

“He said he felt crowded and wanted space. He said he didn’t mean any of the things he’d said to me the night before.”

“What? That makes no sense.”

“I know, but it’s what happened and I’m upset, with myself and with him. I hardly slept last night.”

“Why don’t Maren and I come over with breakfast?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“Bagels? Muffins? Doughnuts?”

“Whatever.” Even doughnuts held little appeal.

“I’ll pick up Maren and doughnuts and coffee. We should be there in about an hour.”

“Okay.” I hung up, and a few minutes later dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower. I turned the water on and while I waited for it to heat up, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. My eyes, ringed beneath with dark circles, were bloodshot and dull. My eyelids puffy. My complexion sallow. I looked at my naked body and remembered how beautiful I’d felt in his arms, and wanted to cry all over again. Once I was in the shower, I let myself have one more good cry, and then I vowed to shed no more tears over Nate Pearson.

Afterward, I felt slightly more human, but I didn’t have the energy to blow-dry my hair, so when I answered my sisters’ knock, I was dressed in leggings and a sweater, but with my hair still damp. They each gave me a hug.

We sat down in the living room, Stella and I on the couch and Maren cross-legged on the floor.

“Stella told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Maren asked. “You look so sad.”

“I am sad.” Even a cruller wasn’t making me feel better, although I was eating it, anyway.

“So he asked for space out of the blue?” Stella questioned. “That really surprises me, after seeing you two together Friday night.”

“You and me both,” I said. “But he told me that was an act. That he was just saying the things he thought I wanted to hear. And I was the one who asked for total honesty at the start, so…” I shrugged.

“But do you think he was being honest?” Stella asked, setting her coffee cup on the table. “Or was he panicking and thinking, Whoa, I better take a step back.”

“That’s a good point.” Maren nodded. “Maybe he wasn’t acting Friday night. Maybe he was acting last night.”

I shook my head. “Stop. I can’t even wrap my head around that. I didn’t want any games this time around, you know? And what would he have to panic about? I wasn’t pushing him. I wasn’t asking for anything. And I sure as hell wasn’t crowding him—if anything, he was the one taking us to the next level each time.”

“That’s what I mean,” Stella said thoughtfully. “Maybe he scared himself.”

“And then took it out on her?” Maren asked.

Stella nodded. “Right. Broke it off so he wouldn’t have to deal with true feelings of intimacy, which he’s admitted being uncomfortable with.”

“But he didn’t break it off,” I said, reaching for another cruller, feeling like a broken heart justified two of them. “He was all, Emme, this doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other, and I was like, Uh, yeah, Nate, it does. You just told me you lied to me.”

“Oh my God. He probably thought you’d still come over and have sex.” Maren rolled her eyes.

“Or,” said Stella, “He was forcing you to do the leaving, so that he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. He could even blame you for the breakup.”

“That’s kind of messed up,” Maren said.

“You know what? He is kind of messed up right now.” I took a bite of my cruller and thought for a moment. “The whole fatherhood thing forced him to reevaluate his life. He’s dealing with huge changes, in himself and in his future. Plus we went to his mom’s house yesterday, and—” I shook my head—“it was emotional for him, because he lost his little brother to cancer when he was twelve. The house holds a lot of painful memories.”

“That’s sad, but it doesn’t give him an excuse to be a jerk.” Maren reached for her cup.

“No, but it might help explain it,” said Stella. “All those changes might have snowballed in a way that made him feel really threatened all at once. And the house is a reminder of someone he loved and lost.”

“Still,” I said, “he was a total dick and he knows it.” I told them about how I’d ended up going over to his apartment in the middle of the night. “And before I left, he asked me if I hated him, and I think he expected me to say yes.”

“What did you say?” Maren asked.

“I told him the truth. That I don’t hate him, I hate what he did. And I hate myself for falling for his act.” My throat went dangerously tight, and I had to take a few deep breaths to prevent a meltdown.

Stella reached over and patted my leg. “Don’t blame yourself, Emme. This is not your fault.”

But I couldn’t help feeling like it was.

We were silent a moment before Maren started giggling. “I’m sorry, but I keep imagining Nate’s face when you handed him that rectal thermometer.”

“Oh, he was so appalled.” Despite everything, even I cracked a smile. “You’d have thought I asked him to eat the thing. It actually was kind of funny.”

Later, when they were leaving, I said to Maren, “Your offer still good to help me find some peace and balance? I think I could use some.”

“Of course,” she said. “I think it’s a great idea to use this opportunity to work on yourself. Turn your focus inward.”

I nodded. “I’d like to break out of my harmful romantic patterns. I feel like I keep doing the same thing over and over again, like a hamster in one of those wheels. I need to do something different, change my approach or something. I really thought Nate was something special, that what we had was the real thing, but—” I lifted my shoulders as my eyes teared up—“I was wrong again.”

“Listen, I have just the thing,” she said. “Can you meet me at the studio at four?”

I had no work event scheduled that night, so it would work. “Yes. See you then.”

Just the thing turned out to be a really difficult yoga class. I did my best to wrangle my feet behind my head and put my knees next to my ears and balance on my butt with my arms and legs in the air, but I was pretty much abysmal at all the poses except for Happy Baby, which actually made me laugh a little, it was so pathetic. Maybe that had been her plan all along?

Nope.

“You’re not supposed to laugh in class,” Maren whispered to me afterward. “People might think you are laughing at them.”

“I was laughing at myself,” I told her. “All those poses were so hard. I failed at all of them, and even on Happy Baby I had to try like three times to get my left foot in my hand. Aren’t I allowed to laugh at myself? I either had to laugh or cry, and I figured crying would be more embarrassing.”

Maren sighed. “Instead of laughing at yourself, why not focus on your breathing instead, what your muscles feel like, or what your body is capable of instead of thinking of it as failing?” She handed me a bottle of water from the fridge behind the desk. “Here, drink this. It’s important to stay hydrated. You can bring it into the next class with you.”

“The next class? I have to do another one?” I was already drenched in sweat and looking forward to a shower, my pajamas, and a glass of wine.

“I think this one is going to be very good for you.”

“Good for me how? Is it another yoga class? Because I feel bad enough about myself as it is.” And nothing was taking Nate off my mind.

“It’s not a yoga class.” She busied herself with something on the desk, and I immediately got suspicious.

“So what kind of class is it?”

“It’s an affirmations session focusing on love and relationships,” she said, needlessly straightening a stack of papers. “And it’s going to be really good for you.”

“Affirmations? Is that like meditation?”

“Sort of,” she hedged, taking a long drink from her water bottle. “But affirmations are spoken out loud.”

I gaped at her. “I have to speak out loud in there? No way.”

“You said you wanted to break out of your harmful patterns, Emme. We can’t rely only on our thoughts when we need to rewire ourselves like you’re trying to do. We need to translate thoughts into words and words into actions in order to manifest our intentions.”

“That sounds like a load of horseshit. I’m out of here.” I looked around for the nearest exit, and she grabbed my arm.

“No! You don’t want to be the hamster anymore, do you?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then stay. And trust me,” she said, leading me into one of the smaller rooms off the lobby. “It’s going to be great.”

I had my doubts, but I followed her into the room anyway, figuring a hamster had nothing to lose.

Other than Maren and me, there were about ten other students plus the instructor, Harmony, in the room. Eight of them were women, and two were men. We all sat in a circle and the first thing Harmony wanted us to do was to voice one of the negative thoughts stuck in a loop in our brains. Most of the women said things like I’m not pretty enough, I’m not thin enough, or I’ll never find someone. It was so depressing. Why did so many people do this to themselves? When it was Maren’s turn, she said, “I don’t really matter to the world. I feel insignificant.”

I was so stunned by her statement that I didn’t even realize it was my turn next. Everyone was waiting for me to speak, and she elbowed me in the side. “Emme,” she whispered. “Go.”

“Oh! Uh, I only fall in love with assholes.” That hadn’t been what I’d planned to say, but Maren had me flustered. Thankfully, everyone laughed, even Harmony and my sister. “Sorry,” I said, holding up two hands. “I probably could have phrased that more elegantly. I’m failing at life today.”

“The truth isn’t always elegant,” said Harmony. “And I like your honesty and self-awareness. Look at those things as triumphs.”

After we all voiced our most nagging negative thoughts, Harmony explained that we needed to change the way we thought and felt about ourselves in order to change the frequency at which we were vibrating in the universe. I managed not to roll my eyes, but let Maren know with a giant sigh how I felt. She elbowed me again. “Just go with it, okay? For me, if not for yourself?”

“Fine. For you. But you owe me a real smoothie for this. Not one with kale in it.”

“Deal.”

So for the next twenty minutes, I listened to Harmony explain how positive affirmations could help us change our frequencies. She then gave each of us suggestions based on our individual needs. For Maren, she suggested something like I am a positive contribution to this world. For me, she suggested I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.

I kind of liked it.

“So? What did you think?” Maren asked as we sat sipping our smoothies.

“I thought the thing about our vibrations in the universe was a bunch of hooey, but the rest of it kind of made sense. I felt bad when everyone was voicing their negative thoughts.”

She nodded. “Same.”

“Do you really feel that way?” I asked her. “Like you don’t really matter to the world?”

“Sometimes.” She looked down at her smoothie. “I often struggle with what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. When I was dancing, I felt like I really had purpose. I was creating something. But I’ve sort of been wandering since then.”

“But you have a job you love, and you have peace and balance and inner homeogenius.”

That made her smile. “Homeostasis.”

I smiled back, then I tilted my head. “It really surprises me that you feel that way.”

Her cheeks went a little pink. “I do have all those things, and it feels really first world of me to complain that I don’t have purpose in life when so many people in the world are suffering. I think that might be it—I’d like to do something outside myself, something bigger. I just don’t know what.”

“You’ll figure it out, Maren,” I said, putting a hand on hers. “You’re destined for something great. I know it.” It made me feel a little better actually, to think that someone as comfortable with herself as Maren seemed had her own brand of self-doubt. Not that I wanted my sister to feel bad, but something about knowing she occasionally did made me feel less alone.

Later on, when I was pouring myself a glass of wine and waiting for my frozen Lean Cuisine Enchilada Verde to cook, I tried out my positive affirmation. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship,” I said aloud. It felt a little weird, but I did it again anyway. “I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship.”

I repeated it again as I rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher. And again as I brushed my teeth. And again as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Did it make me feel less sad about Nate? No. I missed his voice and his smile and his arms around me so badly, it was a struggle not to break down and give my pillow another good soak.

However, I did start to believe it, and feel slightly better about my decision to stand up for myself and let him know that what he did was not okay. I deserved better in life, and it was up to me to go after it.

The next morning, I texted my cousin Mia that I’d thought about it long enough, and I’d decided to accept her offer.