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Ivy twirls a red curl around her finger. “Track down, meaning…stalk your exes?”
“Locating my exes,” I correct.
Although, truth be told, it may come to stalking.
I woke up this morning with a deliberate refocus on my cause. I keep telling myself it’s because Christmas is right around the corner, so the clock is ticking to find The One. It’s a logical explan
ation, but…it’s not the full explanation.
Truth is, I spent half the night tossing and turning, thinking not about my exes but about Mark. And, well…we can’t have that, can we? For starters, he’s not an ex. Thus he’s not The One, and…
Wait, holy crap. When have I ever even considered that Mark could be anyone, much less The One?
He’s just…Mark. Best friend. The guy who’s always been there. The guy who…
Well, he cooks me dinner, he stays with me so I don’t have to decorate my tree alone, he half adopted my dog, and he felt really, really good pressed up against me underneath the branches of an evergreen tree yesterday.
Ivy tilts her head as she studies me. “You okay? You look weird.”
I feel weird.
Which is why I spent the better part of my morning on the couch with my laptop, admiring my new tree, all while figuring out the best way to contact my five remaining ex-boyfriends.
Two of them will be easy. Doug Porter and Chad Morrister both live here in Haven.
Stephen will be a little harder since he lives in the city, but I’ve been contemplating heading into Manhattan to do a little last-minute holiday shopping anyway. But he and I are on good terms, and he already replied to my text letting me know he’s staying in town until Wednesday, when he leaves for his brother’s house in Kansas City.
That leaves only Adam Bartley, who, from what I can tell, has disappeared off the face of the earth, and…
Colin Austin.
Colin will be tricky. One, because, well, he broke my heart. And because if Google knows what it’s talking about, he lives in Portland, Oregon, now.
Which doesn’t make sense. The Colin I knew had New York blood running through his veins. I rarely saw him out of a suit, never saw a hair out of place. And admittedly, I’ve never been to Portland, but it seems very cool and chill. Those aren’t words I associate with my college boyfriend.
“Hoooo boy,” Ivy says, exhaling and then taking a sip of her eggnog latte. We’re at Steam Bean, a local coffee shop whose lattes are a heck of a lot better than their shop-naming abilities.
I sip my own peppermint mocha, complete with crushed candy canes on top. “Lay it on me.”
“Well,” Ivy says, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs, “I think…I’m in love with this plan. Like, totally.”
I smile, because it’s no less than I thought she’d say. If Mark’s the best friend who keeps me grounded, Ivy’s the best friend that plays with me up in the clouds.
She’s good people. Tall and broad, with great curly hair (bottle red, but it works for her), and a loud, happy laugh, Ivy’s just about as likable as they come. We’ve been super-close ever since junior high, and the only reason she’s sort of second-best friend to Mark is because she got married to her high school boyfriend when they were nineteen.
And though I love both her and Jim to pieces, even back in high school they were always a unit. Then they had kids, and you know how that goes. So though I love her like a sister and have always known I can count on her, over time I found I just turned to Mark first.
Anyway, how’d I get on that?
The point is, she’s my people. She believes in karma. She reads her horoscope daily and frequently sends me insights on mine. She also had a fortune-teller at her birthday for three years in a row. Need I say more?!
“So, be straight with me,” Ivy says, reaching across the table to drag her pinky along the edge of my whipped cream, then sticking it in her mouth. “Which one do you think it is, really? I mean, I respect the process of dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s with the whole list, but you can’t have possibly thought it was Joey Russo. That kid used to put ketchup on his mashed potatoes.”
I cringe at the memory. “No, I guess I never really thought it was Joey. Jack I had a little more hope about, but…nope.”
Ivy taps her fingers on the table. “Okay, dilemma. You said you crossed off married/involved guys. What if it’s one of them?”
I give her a look. “Seriously? You think my soulmate is married?”
