“You weren’t bullshitting. You really are breaking up with me,” Martin said as I took my bag to the car.
Trying not to cry, I said, “Yeah,” and went out the door to put the tote in the car.
I hoped I would not have to ask for my key back. I figured since we were not together, he should not have access to my house whenever he wanted. Martin must have read my thoughts because as I walked back in, the key to my apartment lay beside the ring box. I wordlessly picked it up, put it in my pocket, and put my key down in its place. As I turned to say good-bye and walk out, Martin spoke in a soft, hurt voice I never heard before.
“Muffin.”
“Yeah?”
“I will always love you,” he said as I stood in the doorway willing myself not to be weak. I’m-doing-the-right-thingcycled through my thoughts.