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Or maybe I do.
A week ago, I didn’t feel this way about Mark.
“So, the special, then?” Erika asks.
“Please. And oh, what the heck, another glass of wine.”
“Sure thing,” she says, her smile back in place as she tops off my glass of wine with a generous pour. Normally I wouldn’t, but since I can catch a ride home with Mark, I might as well embrace the holiday season, am I right? I’ll sip it slow, promise.
Erika starts to walk away. Then she taps her palm on the bar and walks in reverse, as though she’d just remembered something. “Oh! Kell, I’ve been meaning to tell you…” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “I’ve got something for you.”
Erika pulls something out of the back pocket of her black jeans and slides it toward me.
I pick up the business card, read the name, then glance up in confusion. “A private investigator.”
“I know, it sounds cheesy, but he’s my cousin and he’s actually super-good at his job.”
“Are you…” I try to put the pieces together here. “Are you setting me up?”
She gives a good-natured eye roll. “No, it’s for your ex list. I know you’re having trouble tracking them all down, and I thought CJ might be able to help.”
My stomach flips. “How did you know—”
Erika merely smiles.
Mark.
Mark told his ex-girlfriend all about my plan.
Now I really have lost my appetite. The sense of betrayal is biting, although I’m not even sure why. I never explicitly told him it was a secret, it’s just…
Yesterday in the snow, and again in that moment under the mistletoe, I’d felt a bit like maybe there was a chance of something.
Now, when faced with his gorgeous ex who seems to want him back, and with the fact that I’m supposed to be in love with one of my exes…
Most. Complicated. Christmas. Ever.
I blink rapidly to keep my eyes from watering. An overreaction, for sure—but I just can’t shake the sense that I’m losing him.
And it scares me to death.
“Yeah, thanks,” I manage, holding up the card, and then dropping it into my purse. “I’ll take the special?”
“You got it,” she says, although she gives me a searching look, as though trying to read me.
Good luck. I can’t even read myself.
Erika wanders away, thank God, because I feel my eyes fully watering now, despite my best anti-tear strategies at work.
“Hey, Kelly Byrne! Anyone sitting here?”
I turn toward my name, grateful for a distraction—any distraction. And Hugh Corgy’s perfect for the part. My last year in school, Hugh had the distinction of being the only openly gay kid in our class, and he owned it with the same happy confidence he does now.
He plops onto the stool beside me and surveys the scene. “Where’s your hot bestie?”
Probably shagging his ex.
I force a smile and turn toward the kitchen, relieved that my tears have retreated. “Cooking tonight.”
