“Manda, he didn’t love me. End of story. What better reason is there than that?”
“Kelli, that’s malarkey. Real men don’t walk away and never speak to you again just because you say you love them. And they don’t just show up out of the blue thirteen years later for no reason either.”
“All right, wise one, what possible reason could there be?”
“Did you find out if he’s married?”
It drove me nuts when she responded with a question not an answer. She did that more often than I liked. “I didn’t ask, but he didn’t have a ring on. Hold on, I want to google him. Let me put you on speaker.” I set my phone down and typed in Ian Greyson on my laptop. The first listing was for an attractive actor who shared his name. Too bad I didn’t have time to ogle handsome men online. I scrolled down the page and found an article about the sale of Ian’s software company, IAG Inc. It sold for a cool thirty million.Wow!I scrolled a bit farther down as I listened to my sister bark commands at my nieces, who were balking about going to bed. One of them yelled, “Come save us, Aunt Kelli!”
I laughed.
“Just wait until you have your own,” Amanda retorted.
“I can’t wait.” I tried to keep the longing out of my voice.
“Kelli, you’re going to have your own.”
I hope so.
A very interesting article popped up. Well, well, it looked like Ian married Denver socialite, Marissa Randall, eight years ago. I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or, dare I say, jealous.Wait.I was definitely not jealous. Their engagement photo was pretty hoity-toity. Ian was in a black tuxedo, and she was in some silver evening gown. She was what I would call a buxom blonde with overdone make-up and hair. I wasjust about ready to tell my sister he was married when another article caught my eye from two years ago.
Amanda was now yelling for Zane to come deal with his offspring.
“Hey, sis, it looks like he’s divorced.” I chimed in before she really raised her voice. “Or at least he was a couple of years ago.”
“Does he have kids?”
I scrolled down the article. It was a gossip column from theDenver Post. I couldn’t believe Ian was popular enough to get mentioned in the society pages. No wonder he looked like a runway model now. I honestly preferred the Clark Kent version. Don’t get me wrong, he was easy on the eyes, but there was something sweet and innocent about the man I knew so long ago. Now he looked like he lived in a boardroom.
“There were no children from the union.” I read out loud to Amanda. “So, no kids, at least not from Ms. I-May-Tip-Over-Because-My-Hair-And-Boobs-Are-So-Big.”
“Send me a picture of her,” Amanda requested.
I snapped a picture like a thirteen-year-old girl and texted it to her.
“My, my . . .” Amanda responded.
“I know, right?”
“You’re way prettier.”
“Thanks, sis, but I don’t care.”
“Sure, you don’t.”
“Really, I don’t. Why would I?”
“Every woman cares about who their ex-boyfriends end up with, even if there are no longer any feelings there.”
“Well, I don’t. It was a long time ago.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad, Missy.”
I set my laptop down and lay down on my couch. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. I thought I would never see him again. It was something I had come to terms with. And now here he is, and not only that, I could be working for him. What do I do?”
“Honey, I think you need to be honest with yourself about why you don’t want to work with him, and if you can come to terms withthat, then I think you should go back and show him what Kelli Bryant’s made of.”
“What do you mean, be honest with myself?”
