Made To Be Broken - The Boston Hawks Hockey Series

Rory’s POV ‘What the f.uck?’ I hiss, my hands gripping tightly to the silver cutlery I’m holding, poised over the meal I can’t even pronounce the name of in this fancy as hell restaurant we are currently sitting in, my eyes glued to the man across from me as he holds my stare unflinchingly. ‘I’m breaking up with you’ he repeats, his tone bored, stoic, as though he might be ordering an accompanying bottle of wine instead of turning my whole world upside down. Around us, the soft bubble of conversation continues as the other diners enjoy their meals, before no doubt heading home or to a fancy cocktail bar to see in the new year in a few hours time. ‘You’re serious?’ I demand, my shock morphing into anger as I stare at the unruffled man across from me. ‘You’re actually serious? You’re breaking up with me tonight? At a f.ucking five star restaurant on new years eve?!’ My voice echoes around the intimate area of the restaurant we are currently sitting in as it loudens with each word I utter. The chatter falls silent around us as attention turns toward me and my boyfriend Stanford. ‘For God’s sake Rory, keep your voice down’ he growls back, glancing around us as he grabs his scotch and swallows a mouthful. ‘You are causing a scene, have a little class, please, I know you lack etiquette, but I really thought that bringing you here might encourage some semblance of decorum.’ My eyes widen as I stare across the table at him, ‘that’s why you brought me here?’ I demand, a bitter laugh falling from my lips, ‘you thought I’d just accept you throwing me away like trash quietly if you placed us in some swanky restaurant in the middle of the city?’ My now ex boyfriend doesn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed, instead he looks bored, like I’m somehow inconveniencing him with my feelings. ‘It can hardly come as a surprise Rory’ he sighs, rolling his eyes, ‘you must have realised that things between us had run it’s course.’ ‘Oh yes, because I always wear an eight hundred dollar dress to dinner when I’m getting dumped’ I snap back bitterly. ‘Everything about my face right now just screams that I had every idea that you were going to kick me to the curb tonight.’ The preppy b.astard just shrugs, indicating to a passing waiter and waving his now empty glass at him for a refill. ‘You couldn’t have thought to bring this up, I don’t know, say six months ago? You know before I uprooted my entire f.ucking life to come here and be with you?’ I hiss. Stanford’s gaze snaps to mine, his eyes narrowing, ‘I didn’t ask you to do that’ he mutters defensively. A bitter laugh falls from my lips, is he serious right now? ‘You BEGGED me to come here’ I retort, ‘I had months of your incessant whining about how hard it was for you to be away from me, how much you missed me, and how you didn’t care what it took, you just wanted me to come here and be with you.’ I suck in a breath, trying to calm the storm that rages within me, ‘I left my whole life behind for you, my friends, my family, a promising career! For you!’ Stanford waves my words dismissively, as the waiter appears beside him, taking his empty glass and handing him a new one that he takes a sip of before placing it on the table and picking up his knife and fork. I watch him in disbelief, cutting into the steak that has been growing cold in front of him as though he hasn’t just shattered my entire life. My own meal sits untouched in front of me, but I ignore it, knowing if I even tried to eat something I’d probably throw up right now. ‘It’s not like you were that serious about us, about me anyway’ he comments, spearing the sliver of meat he’s just cut, and bringing it to his lips. ‘You don’t even have a job Rory, never even tried to put down roots here, it was like you always had one foot outside the door.’ He raises a sculped eyebrow at me as he pulls the meat from the tines and chews, swallowing the morsel before picking up his napkin to pat at the corner of his lips like the rich w.anker he is. ‘You were more than happy to live off my finances, let me pay for everything, sometimes I wondered if you were only around for my money’ he muses. His words leave me speechless as white hot rage flows through me, and it takes me a few seconds to regain use of my tongue. ‘Are you kidding me?’ I finally spit, ‘you were the one that told me not to rush to find something. You wanted me to find my feet, get used to the city, be at your beck and call for all your f.ucking galas and s**t at your company’ I add furiously. He’s calling me a gold digger? I showed him no end of job opportunities I had found over the months, and each one he turned his nose up at. Too many hours, not prestige enough for the girlfriend of Stanford Beckett the fourth, too far of a commute which would have him coming home to an empty condo. Every time I got myself an interview, something would come up that made me miss it. Sandford’s car broke down and he needed to borrow the second one that was supposed to be for me, he was sick and needed me to look after him, once it was because I couldn’t find my f.ucking keys to lock the front door! Turned out that the asshole across from me had ‘accidentally’ put them in his pocket and taken them to work with him. ‘I . . is there someone else?’ I hate the way my voice cracks at the end, not wanting to show this asshole just how much he’s destroyed me. Stanford frowns, ‘I am not a cheater Rory’ he growls, incensed at my blatant accusation. ‘Then what Stanford? Why are you doing this?’ I demand, biting down on the inside of my cheek to stop my voice wavering. The twenty eight year old shrugs, ‘I’m getting older Rory’ he replies airily, ‘I’m on track to make partner by thirty five, I need to start thinking about my future.’ ‘I thought I was your future’ I mutter, my gaze falling to my untouched plate. Stanford sighs loudly, ‘Rory, you are a nice girl, I care about you, but . . let’s be honest . . you are not wife material for someone of my pedigree.’ My gaze snaps to his as my mouth falls open in shock, ‘w . . what?’ I stammer. The asshole gives me a condescending look, ‘come on Rory, be honest with yourself, you’re fine for a good time, adequate girlfriend material, but now I need someone who I am not ashamed to introduce to the partners. I need a woman from a family like my own, one who has grown up with the higher classes, who knows how the world works, who is on my level.’ ‘Are you saying . . I’m to lower class for you?’ I ask, staring at him. Stanford shrugs, ‘your Electrician father, and diner working mother are not really something I want brought up to the partners at a business dinner’ he concedes. ‘Honestly Rory, really, I’m sparing you by doing this, you are out of your element around my acquaintances and it’s only going to get harder.’ ‘Oh! So you are doing this for me’ I laugh humourlessly, ‘well thank you Stanford, that is so kind of you.’ My now ex boyfriend, takes another bite of his food, swallowing, before speaking again. ‘I’ve already had my assistant, Marcy come over tonight and pack up your belongings, she will leave them with the concierge for you to collect’ he adds carelessly. ‘I’m also going to need my key back’ he adds, placing the knife down and holding out his hand expectantly. I drag out my keys, tugging the door key from the ring and pulling it free before ignoring his hand and slamming it down on the table. Blowing out an exasperated breath, Stanford pinches the top of his nose, ‘I was really hoping we could end things amicably Rory’ he sighs. Pushing back my chair, I scoff loudly before grabbing my uneaten dinner and throwing it into his lap. ‘What the f.uck Rory!’ he yells, jumping to his feet, the finely prepared salmon falling from his tailored trousers onto the floor. I shrug, giving him a saccharine smile, ‘ooops’ I gasp, ‘though what more can you expect from someone as low class as me?’ Flipping him off, I grab my coat from the back of my chair, along with my clutch, and turn on my heel, storming out of the restaurant, and into the freezing Boston weather. I stagger down the path, trying not to slip in my three inch heels that are in no way built for walking, especially not in the slush covered walkways of the Boston streets. As I walk, my ritzy upper class surroundings morph into department store shopping until I find myself in a seedier part of the city. I suck in a breath, glancing worriedly around me, but no one gives me a second look, everyone to busy enjoying the last night of the year. A flashing neon sign ahead catches my attention, and I move toward it until I can make out the name, Aces Bar. I look down at my dress, one that screams how much I’m not meant to be here, for a second, before I straighten my shoulders. I'm low rent remember? and low rent people frequent dive bars and get stupid drunk. Nodding my head determinedly, I suck in a breath and shove open the door, loud music crashing over me along with the chatter of revellers already inside.