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I frown. “What stuff?”
He shrugs. “Fate? Soulmates? Being meant to be, even after all this time.”
I inhale a long breath and think about this. I do believe in all of that. Or at least I did. And there’s the not insignificant fact that this is exactly what the woman on the train predicted—that I’d find the one I let get away before Christmas, and…
Well, he found me, but still. Same difference.
“At least have a drink with me,” Colin pleads, running a hand through his blond hair. “Or coffee. Dinner. Brunch tomorrow. Anything.”
I should say yes. I owe it to the three years Colin and I spent together. I owe it to the fact that he’s traveled God knows how far to be here on December twenty-third.
I owe it to my ex list, and my belief in destiny, and…
“Hey, hey!” A middle-aged man appears beside us, giving Colin a playful man-to-man punch on the shoulder. “Well done, coaxing the hot elf beneath the mistletoe.”
I recognize the guy. One of the patrons from Mark’s restaurant, who always seems just one drink past classy. I’d ignore him, but now others have joined in as well, nudging me forward as they point toward the mistletoe.
I swear to God, if I never see mistletoe again after this…
Colin gives me a sheepish but not entirely disappointed smile, and before I realize that he’s not about to tell them all to get lost, his hands are on my shoulders, and he’s tugging me forward, his lips finding mine…
It’s the perfect end to my story, right?
The woman who believes in fate and fortune seeks out all of her ex-boyfriends but one on the word of a fortune-teller, and then the one that got away shows up, just in time for a Christmas kiss beneath the mistletoe.
It’s perfect. In theory.
It makes for a great story, for sure, except…
I don’t think it’s my story.
Even as Colin deepens the kiss, earning us a few whistles and laughs, I feel nothing.
Or rather, I feel something, but it’s not what I thought I would.
I feel bored.
And more in love with Mark than ever.
Colin might be the guy that destiny chose for me, but…he’s not the one I choose.
I gently ease back, and though Colin lets me end the kiss, he keeps his hands on my shoulders.
“A drink, Kelly. Just to catch up.”
Ugh.
I don’t want Colin right now—not ever. But neither do I want to embarrass the guy in front of what’s a growing number of spectators.
I don’t owe Colin much, but I do at least owe him the courtesy of letting him down privately.
“Sure, a drink sounds great,” I say, forcing a smile.
The people nearest us clap happily—cluelessly.
Relief’s written all over Colin’s face as he nods, finally dropping his hands. I breathe out in relief as he withdraws contact.
But the relief is short-lived, because over Colin’s shoulder, my eyes collide with a familiar dark gaze.
