“Don’t.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re saying ‘Marcus’ in a tone that implies many things.”
“I’m saying ‘Marcus’ in a tone that implies I noticed how you looked at him when he laughed.”
I scrubbed a mug that was already clean. “He laughed at something Tequila said. It wasn’t a moment.”
“It was a little bit of a moment.”
“There are no moments. He’s grieving his dead wife and I’m drowning in magical romantic chaos. That’s not a foundation for moments.”
“And yet.” Cassie’s voice was gentle. “The magic chose him.”
“The magic is an idiot.”
“The magic is responding to something. Something you won’t admit to yourself.”
I set down the mug. Turned to face her.
“Cass. I can’t do this. I can’t start catching feelings for a man who explicitly, repeatedly, loudly does not want feelings. And even if I could—he doesn’t want this. He said so. Multiple times. In several different creative phrasings.”
“People say a lot of things.”
“He said he was done with love. He said he had his chance and it’s over. He said?—”
“He also came here. When he could have ignored the notification. He stayed. When he could have left.” Cassie touched my arm. “Di. I’m not saying you have to fall in love with him. I’m saying maybe don’t close that door before you see what’s on the other side.”
My phone buzzed from the living room.
I went to check it, grateful for the interruption.
1,847 matches now. The number had been climbing steadily since Marcus left. But only one new notification made my stomach drop.
Todd Martinez.
Present-day photo. Not the nineteen-year-old version the app had pulled up before—the actual, current Todd. Fifty-one years old. Greyer than I remembered. Looking directly intothe camera with an expression I recognized from five years of marriage.
The look he got when he’d decided something and was going to make it happen.
His message read:“Di. I know we ended badly. But I’ve been dreaming about you. Something’s pulling me back. Can we talk?”
“Oh no,” I whispered.
Cassie appeared at my shoulder. Read the message. Her expression went carefully neutral in a way that meant she was holding back approximately seventeen opinions.
“You don’t have to respond.”
“I know.”
“You don’t owe him anything.”
“I know.”
“He was terrible to you and the divorce was the best thing that ever happened and you’ve spent five years healing from his particular brand of emotional damage.”
“I know all of that.”
