My world goes perfectly silent with only the buzzing of my ears for a moment.
I hold up a hand. “What? Sorry, what?”
Her expression is really baffled now. “Cedar and Salt is expanding to New York. He just bought a little place down in the Village. He didn’t tell you?”
I open my mouth, then shut it again, managing to shake my head, although it still doesn’t clear the cobwebs.
“That can’t be right. How much whiskey sour have you had?” She laughs, but it’s not unkind. “Obviously you need a bit more. He didn’t tell you?”
“I—No. He didn’t. You’re sure?”
She shrugs. “Pretty sure. It’s why he’s hired a new head chef, and why he’s been so extra scowly all the time. His stress level’s been through the roof.”
“Places!” booms the voice of Ken Prismill, Haven’s go-to Santa for the past ten years. “We move out in five!” He lowers his voice slightly. “Kelly, good to see you, dear.”
I try to manage a wave, but my hand only gets as far as my forehead as I rub at the sudden dizziness. Mark’s opening a restaurant in New York?
And he didn’t tell me?
Best friend my ass. Best friends tell each other these things. Where will he be living? What about his house here? What about Rigby? What about—us?
The panic claws at my throat now, and Erika places an alarmed hand on my arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.”
“Take a deep breath,” Erika says. “Maybe he just didn’t want to tell you until he has the details. Or maybe he was trying to surprise you. You guys will be closer now, right?”
Physically? Sure. Emotionally? I have no freaking idea. Here I am falling in love with the guy, and he’s making the biggest move of his career and not telling me about it?
I let Erika maneuver me over to the side of the float. I listen to Santa and Mrs. Claus tell me how I’m to drop the mini candy canes to the crowd, not fling them.
I nod, I smile, I even manage a laugh when I see that Ken’s dressed his new puppy as Rudolph and set him at the head of the float.
Inside, though, I’m a mess.
I barely register when the float starts to move. I hand out candy canes, I wave, I smile, I sing along with “Jingle Bells,” but all the time I’m trying to figure out why he wouldn’t mention it.
Like most of the town, the parade’s always a Christmas highlight for me, but this year I barely register it. All I want is to get out of this too-tight elf costume, put on sweats, snuggle my dog, and maybe yell at my best friend.
I don’t see Mark in the crowd, but then I don’t really see anyone, courtesy of the fact that my eyes keep watering.
I know. Go ahead and say it. I’m a hot mess.
After what seems like days, the misery finally ends. Santa ho-ho-hos until the float finally, mercifully, comes to a stop at the end of the route.
Every year there’s a makeshift photo studio set up at the end of the parade line, where kids can make last-minute requests to Santa, pet Rudolph, et cetera, so my job’s not quite done yet.
We’re met by a cheerful mob, most wanting selfies with Santa, although there are a few demands for us elves as well.
Even as I smile for camera after camera, I keep an eye on the crowd for Mark. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see him.
Why didn’t you tell me about the new restaurant? And by the way, I love you. Yeah, that should go over great.
The crowd starts to thin out a bit, and I do another quick scan, wondering where Mark is—
Wait, what?
I swing my gaze backward. I could have sworn I saw . . .
I go perfectly still when I see the man standing off to the side near the photo table where the high school yearbook staff manages the Santa photos.
It’s not . . . it can’t be . . .
“Colin?” I say in a whisper.
He gives a smile when I meet his eyes, and my whole world seems to spin.
My ex-boyfriend—the ex-boyfriend—is here. In Haven. Just in time for Christmas.
Just like the fortune-teller promised.
December 23, Saturday Evening
Somehow I force my feet forward, moving toward my ex, who greets me with a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile. “Hi, Kelly.”
I can only stare.
He looks the same, but different. Familiar, but . . . wrong?
That’s my first thought. He looks wrong. I mean, not the man—he’s fine. Good-looking as I remember.
But his presence here feels wrong, and . . . weird.
Colin’s from Oklahoma, and he’s got a big family there. What in the world is he doing here in my little hometown two days before Christmas?
He shoves his hands into his coat pockets, smiling a little wider as he looks me over. “You look . . .” His expression is warm. “You look amazing.”
“You too,” I say, although my voice sounds wooden. I don’t know that he looks amazing, but he looks pretty darn good. He’s lost the scrawniness of youth—his shoulders are broader. His belly, too, if I’m going to be picky. Which I shouldn’t be, given the fact that my own belt’s too tight.
It’s just that it’s hard not to look at him and see Mark. Or rather, see all the ways that he isn’t Mark.
Someone bumps into me from the back, and I stumble forward a bit. Colin catches my arm.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking up into his eyes. They’re brown. Were they always brown? I could have sworn he had hazel eyes, but all the details seem murky now.
He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
Ever in the habit of putting other people at ease, I spread my arms to the side. “I’m wearing an elf costume. Try me.”
Colin’s arm drops, and he takes a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I stare at him. “What?”
“I know,” he says, lifting his shoulders. “It’s been years, and I’ve always remembered you—us—fondly, but for some reason these past couple weeks or so, I just . . . I can’t get you out of my mind.”
I can’t help it. I close my eyes and try to hold back my disbelieving laugh, because it’s so exactly what I pictured. It’s my fantasy come true—the one guy I never got over showing up out of the blue, saying he wants me back . . .
Well, sort of. I mean, Colin hasn’t actually said that, but he’s here, and—
“I want another chance,” he says, reaching forward and gently setting his hands on my arms. “I know it’s been years, and this must seem crazy, but . . . come on, Kell, you’ve always loved this stuff.”
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.”