An Ex for Christmas(39)

I finished my first glass of wine chatting with Ivy and Jim, out for a rare kids-free date night, and am nursing the second glass that my high school principal and his wife insisted on buying me.

When both couples finally close out, I’m not quite ready to go home to my quiet house, but no way can I even think about another drink until I’ve gotten some food in me.

Which means . . . talking with Erika. Our conversation so far’s been limited to her saying, “Pinot grigio?” and me saying, “Yes please!” and her saying “Same thing?” and me saying, “Sounds great!”

We’re both nauseatingly chipper and friendly.

My options now are to wait for a table and eat there (unlikely, since there’s been a wait all evening) or to somehow figure out how to talk to Erika without giving her a piece of my mind for cheating on Mark with Doug.

She seems to read my mind, because after she pours a couple of glasses of red for the cute elderly couple at the far end of the bar, she catches my eye and heads my way.

“Hey, Kelly, another?” She leans on the bar and grins at me like we’re friends.

Which I guess we sort of are, but . . .

Has she always been this pretty? She’s got the toned look of a woman who actually enjoys working out, and a long, bouncy blond ponytail that is always slightly curled but never frizzy. And green eyes. Not hazel, not blue, green. Pretty green.

It’s hard not to hate her.

“I’m thinking I’d better start with water and food first,” I say forcing a smile.

“Sure thing. I can bring you a menu, but I can tell you right now that Mark’s special is the best thing on the menu tonight. We all had it at the staff dinner earlier, and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. He’s calling it Christmas on the Bayou Pasta—”

“Oh, right!” I interrupt. “I love that dish. I was actually his test subject, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

Erika’s smile chills just the slightest bit, confirming exactly what I hadn’t really wanted to know—she still sees Mark as her territory somehow.

A week ago I’d have shrugged and let him figure out his own love life.

But a week ago I didn’t know that she’d cheated on him. A week ago I didn’t—

I didn’t what? I don’t know how to finish that sentence, even in my own head.

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.