create a follow-up survey to find out who sent this? Or she could call them all again? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. None of them were right for her, except for Ian. And if it was him who’d written this letter, he was a jerk for sending it while he was married. She tucked the letter in the kitchen drawer where she stashed bills and appointment reminder cards she wanted to ignore.
***
The next day was Valentine’s Day, and Aubrey read the letter again and again whenever there was a lull in calls at work. After a torturous afternoon, signing for bouquets and balloons for her co-workers, she stormed home, crumpled the letter and threw it away. He probably thought he’d been nice sending that letter, but it only managed to reignite her feelings for him—and crush her heart once again.
She turned on the enormous Jacuzzi in her bathroom and got in, then unwrapped the giant chocolate heart Kyla had sent her. She fished out a coconut candy and wondered if she’d ever have the passion to work at a relationship again. Maybe the survey had been helpful—she’d certainly never try too hard again. She didn’t have the heart for it. The coconut candy slipped from her fingertips and disappeared under the bubbles. Bummer. Her favorite.
***
The next day was unseasonably sunny and warm for February, and since she had at least four thousand calories in chocolate to burn off, Aubrey decided to take a walk after work. She found herself heading toward JuJu’s and thinking of Ian, of course. It wouldn’t be so bad to have lost him to someone who really appreciated him, but his wife didn’t seem to love him like Aubrey would’ve loved him. His wife didn’t seem like she tried hard at all.
That’s probably how she got him .
Lost in her thoughts, Aubrey walked through the stream of people outside enjoying the day. She stopped when she got to JuJu’s and stared inside through the window. How many times had she and Ian come here? She’d always narrow her selection down to two choices, and Ian would order her second choice, just in case she didn’t like the one she’d chosen. They usually ended up splitting their meals and arguing over who’d take more than their fair share and whose was the best.
She sighed and looked down the sidewalk.
“Aubrey?”
She looked up and blinked. “Ian?” She would’ve thought it was a hallucination if not for the baby in front of him bundled up in a stroller. The little guy was cute, but he certainly didn’t have a guest role in her Ian fantasies.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“It’s a nice day. I’m done with work. I’m just taking a walk while it’s still light out. Is Joshua still sick?”
Ian was moving his mouth to say something, when Ian’s wife came out of JuJu’s. Aubrey heard the Wicked Witch of the West music playing in her head.
Monica took the stroller from Ian. “They can get us a table in fifteen minutes.” She looked over at Aubrey. “Oh, it’s you again.”
Aubrey tucked her hands in her pockets. “Yes, I was just out taking a walk and ran into Ian.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence,” Monica said. She shoved Ian. “And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” he said.
Monica narrowed her eyes at him. “You coward.”
Aubrey stepped forward. “Stop it! Why are you so mean to him? Don’t you know what a great guy you’ve got?”
Monica looked at Ian and laughed.
Aubrey clenched her teeth but she couldn’t hold back her words. “You don’t deserve him. Ian should have someone wonderful who cares about him. He’s smart and kind and funny and caring. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s hot as hell!”
Monica doubled over, laughing. “Oh, my god. I would stab myself to death with a plastic spork if I had someone like Ian. He never picks up after himself. He’s a lousy cook and clearly, he’s a chicken shit.”
Aubrey cocked her head. “What do you mean, if you had someone like Ian? He’s your
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