Page 39 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

He kept that smile, though. Not smug, not mocking. Just… amused.

We looked at each other for a moment too long, the silence stretching just enough to become uncomfortable.

“How are you?” he finally asked, and there was something in his voice that caught me off guard. His question was not casual. Not polite. Something sincere. Something that sounded a little too close to concern.

And the first thought that came to my mind was, “Fuck! He must’ve seen my love-life rants on TikTok for sure!”

There’s something humiliating about your ex seeing the version of you that didn’t survive a breakup.

“I’m fine,” I said. Which was true. Technically. No, I wasn’t. “But I’m so confused,” I added, letting out a small, awkward laugh as I started gathering my things. “I—uh—I have to go.”

I stood up too quickly, reaching for my Andiamo Bottega bag from the chair beside me.

“Wait—”

I was halfway out of the moment when he pulled out his iPhone and gently tapped it against mine. A soft vibration passed between the devices. Quick and seamless. My screen lit up with his contact details.

I froze.

He looked at me, calm as ever. “Ring me if you need someone to talk to,” he said. “Okay?”

I nodded, because I didn’t trust my inner voice anymore.

“I’m serious, James.”

I looked away for half a second before nodding again.

Then I picked up my things—too fast, too messy—and walked out of Bluebird like I hadn’t just been ambushed by my past in broad daylight.

By the weekend, I found myself at a resort I didn’t choose, attending a family day I didn’t belong to.

Mel’s company had rented the place out, which sounded luxurious in theory, but in reality, it was just a lot of employees pretending to relax while keeping their children alive near large bodies of water.

I sat between Andi and Mel on a poolside lounger.

Oversized sunglasses on, iced drink in hand, and trying to convince myself this counted as rest.

Well, it didn’t, because children were everywhere. Screaming. Running. Splashing like they had something to prove.

A cannonball landed three feet away from us, sending a wave of pool water straight onto my legs.

I flinched. “Oh God.”

Andi didn’t even react. She just slowly wiped her arm with a napkin like this was her villain origin story. “I swear to God, if one more child is born today⁠—”

“Andi,” Mel warned.

“They’re aggressively existing!” Andi said, leaning back into her lounger.

Another splash. But it didn’t reach us this time.

“Why are they so wet?” I asked.

“We’re in the pool, James,” Mel said.

“This is exactly why I can’t have kids,” Andi said, watching a group of kids scream their way across the shallower end of the pool.

“Can’t?” I turned to her. “Or won’t?”