"He knows Dave," I say to Kit over the phone an hour later. "Can you believe it?"
"I guess New York really is a small town."
"Beyond."
"What are you going to do?"
Hide on my couch under a blanket forever? "I'm not sure. I've been gathering intel."
"Do tell."
I adjust my laptop on my legs. I've spent the last hour cyber-stalking Fake Jack. I mean Ben. Ben. His name is Ben, because of course it is. Only my favorite boy name ever. Damn it.
"His name is Ben Hamilton. He's twenty-nine and runs an indie record label."
"Interesting."
"He's from New York, but we knew that already."
"Right."
"And get this—he does have a girlfriend."
"What?"
"Well, they might be broken up, it's not entirely clear. Her name is Rachel Wise and she's beautiful."
I toggle to a photograph of Rachel that I found on her Facebook page, which isn't set to private. She smiles at me through the camera, her head slightly tilted back and laughing. She's everything I always wished I was—two inches taller, hair a little blonder, ten pounds lighter. Like I'd been put through some Instagram filter that shows you an idealized version of yourself. She seems much nicer than me also. She volunteers as a Big Sister, loves hiking on the weekend and is a freakin' kindergarten teacher. She also hangs out with her parents on a regular basis and probably never had a serious fight with them. She also has a younger sister—dark-haired, luminous, alive. She doesn't have her relationship status set, but there are plenty of pictures of Ben on her feed, none of them that old. There are a few of her on his page too, but he doesn't post that often. They look happy in those photos, the way Jack—Ben looked when we were sailing the boat or having lunch. The way he looked right before he kissed me.
"We hate Rachel, obvi," Kit says.
I do kind of hate her, which is stupid. She hasn't done anything to me other than get to Ben first. "She seems nice. She, like, volunteers for things."
"You could do that."
I grab the mohair throw from the back of the couch and wrap it around my shoulders. It's hot out, but I feel cold, chilled, like I'll never warm up. "I don't though."
"True. So, what now?"
"I don't know. Can you imagine if I'd gone to that party at Dave's? I would've died."
"Or maybe you'd be dating him by now."
I try to imagine it. Us running into each other in the small kitchen in Dave's apartment each of us looking for a drink. Would he have smiled or looked horrified when he saw me? I want to think smile, but I keep seeing his face fall in a way that breaks my heart. "Do you think it's significant that I didn't go to the party?"
Kit laughs. "The universe again?"
"Maybe."
"Nah. You found him didn't you?"
"Basically when I'd stopped looking."
"That's the way it is. It doesn't have to mean anything. But you did find him, so if you want meaning, there it is."
I expand a picture of Ben from a year ago, and my heart gives a strange beat. He's wearing a polo shirt with the collar open and his face is tanned. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, but they're crinkled around the edges, a wide smile on his face. He looks happy and free, attractive, and open. And he does look like Jack, real Jack, but something about him is more appealing. I don't know why; relationship alchemy is an odd thing.
And what about Ben? Rachel and I could be sisters. Should I read anything into that? It's okay to have a type. Maybe I do, too, though I've never thought about it. But maybe he wasn't into me, exactly, but a memory of Rachel. Maybe I was a way to start over with her again, with a clean slate.
Maybe I'm reading way too much into this as always.
"What do you think I should do?" I ask Kit.
"Reach out."
"What, through Facebook?"
"Why not?"
I shiver under my blanket. I'd thought of doing that but then realized it was a terrible idea. "Ugh, no. Facebook Messenger is the worst. You can tell when someone's read your message."
"So?"
"What if I message him and he reads it and doesn't respond?"
"You'd have your answer, then."
"Only about whether he was interested. Not about the rest of it."
"What's the rest of it?"
"Why he pretended to be Jack. Why he didn't tell me the truth over the course of a whole day. What he wanted from me."
Why he kissed me? That's what I wanted to know most of all. Why'd he have to go and kiss me?
"That's a lot of questions. He might not answer any of them even if you met him in person."
"Yeah, I know."
"You want to, don't you?"
I close my laptop screen. Staring at Ben isn't helping. "In my head again?"
"It's an interesting place."
"Ha. Am I crazy?"
"For wanting to see him? No. But are you ready for that, Chlo?"
"For face-to-face rejection? Probably not. But look at all the trouble I went to, to meet him. I can't turn away now."
"So, there's your answer, then."
"Right."
I put the laptop aside and stand up. I'm stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, so I raise my hands above my head, then bend to touch my toes. I've always been flexible, and I stretch out my back, placing my hands flat on the floor, the phone tucked under my chin.
"What are you going to do if not a message?" Kit asks.
"Not sure."
"You could ask Dave for his number."
"And then Dave would know I was interested. No."
"Who cares?"
"I do."
"You could make up some story."
I stand up. "I've made up enough stories."
"True."
"But, hmmm, you've given me an idea."
"What?"
"I'll tell you if it works out. Thanks for the pep talk."
"Anytime."
We hang up and I text Dave. Hey, so sorry to miss the engagement party last weekend, congratulations again! Great photos on FB. Let me know where you're registered so I can get you a gift.
Dave answers almost immediately, which I knew he would. He's always on his phone.
Hey, hey. We missed you!
Couldn't be avoided!
We should get dinner soon, all three of us.
Ugh. The last time we'd done that his girlfriend had glared at me across the table all night, clearly worried that something had happened between me and Dave, which nothing ever had.
Yeah, for sure! Hey, I didn't know you knew Rachel.
Rachel?
Rachel Wise? I think she's dating Ben Hamilton? I bite my lip nervously.
Oh, right. You know Ben?
We've met.
Small town.
Right? I wait for him to write more but he doesn't. So, Rachel?
Oh, yeah. Nice girl.
Are she and Ben dating goddammit??
Where did you meet them? Dave writes.
Ugh. Them. They are together. Despite what Ben said. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
I met Ben a couple of weeks back. NBD. Anyways, got to run, but let's hang soon!
Most def.
I throw my phone down, wanting to scream. This is what everyone warned me about, but did I listen?
Nope. Not one little bit.
###
I spend the next day at work going back and forth on what I should do, while I sort through a pile of books to try to triage down the selections for our next book picks. We pick the books four months before they're announced so we have time to print our special editions and the publishers have time to adjust their sales in other channels. The BookBox can make a book, and when we pick one, it's good for everyone.
Right now I'm picking for October, and that's when Christmas books start to appear. I've got three of them in front of me, with nearly identical plots and covers.
I hold them up. "All I Want for Christmas? Starry Night? Or Jingle Bell Rocked?"
Addison scowls. She hates Christmas almost as much as she hates romance. "Let me guess, a twenty-something who's just broken up with her boyfriend goes home for Christmas and re-meets her high school boyfriend who's hotter and nicer than he was ten years ago?"
"Ding, ding, ding."
"Dysfunctional families and snarky sisters."
"Of course! Bonus question: which one of these features a same-sex couple?"
She squints. The books usually have the couples drawn on the cover so that question is easy to answer. But none of these do. Instead, each of them has some version of a Nancy Meyer's house with a wreath on the door.
"None of them?"
"No, they all do!"
Addison shakes her head. "Huh. They trying to hide that with those covers?"
"Unclear."
Jameela pops her head up. She's been deep in some drama involving the #Polin stans (the name for Colin and Penelope, the love story from the fourth book but the third season—long story) and those who are rooting for Rene-Jean Page to come back to the show on a regular basis. "If they aren't out and proud, then I say ditch them."
"I agree," Addison says.
"But the covers aren't the author's fault. Should we really ditch them just for that?"
"Are these books good?" Jameela asks.
"They're so similar it's hard to tell."
"Next!"
I laugh because they're right. Rom-coms follow a formula, but that doesn't mean they can't be original within it. I put them aside to put in our discard pile and pull the next three toward me. I need to have one holiday book in the selections, and it's dispiriting to have to start over.
"Chloe," Tabitha says in a sharp voice, startling me from behind. "Have you found him yet?"
I turn around slowly. I know what she's asking because she's been asking it of me every day for a week. I think, briefly, of lying to her, but that's a bad idea. "Yeah, I did actually."
Jameela and Addison react and look at one another. I know I'm going to get it from them later for keeping this information to myself all day.
"Through the ad?"
"No, uh, he was tagged in a friend's photo on Facebook."
Jameela barks out a laugh, then covers it. "Sorry."
"It's fine," I say. "It is kind of funny when you think about it."
"So, what now?" Tabitha asks.
"Not sure. I think he might have a girlfriend."
"Plot twist," Addison says. "Didn't see that coming!"
"Hmmm," Tabitha says. "Well, you have to meet him."
"What? Why?"
"For our subscribers. You know they've been bombarding us with requests for updates."
I'd stopped looking at the Instagram account after the Buzzfeed article had come out. It was too much. "So, I have to go humiliate myself for our subscribers?"
"You've come this far."
"Ouch."
Tabitha softens. "I just mean ... It will complete the story, won't it? You can't leave everyone hanging like that."
"Is my job on the line again?"
"I wouldn't go that far."
This time, I think. "So it's up to me?"
"Yes, though we do have to give some update."
"Don't you want to meet him?" Jameela asks.
"Don't be silly, of course she does," Addison says. "She's been obsessing about him for weeks. She's just scared."
Three pairs of eyes look at me. "Well, yeah, wouldn't you be?"
Addison lifts a shoulder. "Can't get anything if you don't take risks."
"You also can't hurt."
"Not sure about that. You don't seem very happy since this happened."
That clocked. I wasn't happy. But who's fault was that? "Yeah, I guess."
"So, why not meet him?"
"What do you care, Addison?" I say more aggressively than I mean to. "You don't believe in love."
"Hey, now," Tabitha says. "No need to get personal."
"Sorry," I murmur and Addison does the same.
"Look, Chloe, this is your show. You want to meet him, great. You don't, that's fine, too. You decide and then we'll give our readers an update. We're going into a third printing of Most Wanted by the way. Good work."
"Thanks."
Tabitha walks away and I count down in my head to when Jameela and Addison are going to start peppering me with questions. Three, two, one ...
"Oh my God," Jameela says. "I need a photo pronto."
I pull him up on my phone and show it to her. "He's no Jonathan Bailey, but cute, right?"
"Tres cute."
Addison holds out her hand. "Gimme."
I pass her my phone. She looks at him, blowing him up and peering close, then passes it back.
"What?" I say.
"Just checking I didn't know him. He kind of looks like my cousin."
"But he's not your cousin, right?"
"Nope."
"Phew."
"I'll say. That guy is a total beta male."
"Ugh."
"So, you're meeting him, yes?" Addison says.
"I'm still on the fence."
"I'd do it if I were you."
"Why?"
"Because he strung you along all day and made you think he liked you and he had a girlfriend the whole time when he told you he didn't. He needs a piece of your mind."
"Or yours?" I ask hopefully.
"No, no, no, I am not doing that."
"I wasn't seriously asking."
"Hmmm."
"Maybe it was a misunderstanding?" Jameela says. "And he's not dating her anymore."
"It's possible."
"You'll never find out if you don't try."
"Are you about to quote that line about living in regret from season two?"
"Maybe."
"How about we not."
"You don't have to be a b-i-t-c-h about it." She turns back to her screen, her cheeks pink.
"Sorry, Jameela, I'm just stressed. This has all been a lot."
She talks to me without taking her eyes off her screen. "If you don't want our advice, you shouldn't ask for it."
"You're right. But I do, I promise."
Her shoulders soften. "If you don't talk to him you'll never know."
"Yeah. That might be a good thing."
"But then," Addison says. "You'll—"
"—Never know."
"We're like an old married couple."
I laugh. "Who's going to die first?"
"You, clearly."
"That tracks."
###
So, I do it. After dithering between anger and fear all afternoon while I try to find a holiday book that doesn't want to make me cry because I never have a nice Christmas with my family, I decide I have nothing left to lose except for some dignity, and then I chart a course to his office, which is in the Village, and I set off without knowing if he's going to be there but with the quiet certainty that he will. Because he has to be. After all this.
The universe owes that to me, at least.
That certainty evaporates when I get there. His office is just a number on a door with a small sign, and that door is locked. I press the bell, and I can hear it echo in the space above the coffee shop below it, but no one answers.
So that's it, I think. A perfect end to the story. I came, I saw, he wasn't there. I'm not going to try again.
"Chloe?"
I turn and it's him. Ben, though the name Jack still leaps to mind. Here in front of me, wearing a midnight blue shirt with khaki shorts, his hair a bit longer, flopping onto his forehead. He's got a pair of classic wayfarers on, the tortoiseshell ones with dark lenses, but they don't cover enough of his face to hide his shock.
"What are you doing here?" he asks.
And what can I say?