Arranged Read Free Page B

shake the feeling that my life isn’t what it’s supposed to be. And it got worse when I ran into John, the guy I’d been trying to get over when I met Stuart.
    John and I met when I started working at Twist magazinesix years ago. Twist is a monthly city-based magazine. John was the hotshot features writer. I was happy to have my own desk. I noticed him on my second day, when we crossed paths in the fax/copy room. He looked so much like the potential James Bond actor on that month’s cover that my heart skipped a beat. A few weeks later, I did some research for him on an article about the mayoral candidates. We hit it off, falling into an easy, flirty banter, and started dating soon after.
    He broke it off two years later. On my birthday. Apparently, commitment wasn’t his thing. In fact, he never dated anyone for longer than two years, his “best-before date,” as he so charmingly called it.
    It was a messy breakup, one of those heaving “But whyyyy???? I donnn’t underrrrstaannd!!!” moments. He didn’t have any answers other than “I told you I wasn’t into long-term relationships.” “Buuttt you saiidd you loovveeddd meee!!!,” etc., etc., until he convinced me he wasn’t going to change his mind, and I moved out and onto Sarah’s couch. Not long after, he got offered a column at the Daily Chronicle. I hadn’t seen him since.
    It was a few weeks after the Tadd sighting, and I was behind on a deadline. I got my own column a year ago, covering consumer products. The article was about the latest in ebook readers. I was having trouble finding an angle. Truth be told, I’m still waiting for life to look like it did on The Jetsons.
    I ran into John outside the coffee shop on my corner. I was wearing beat-up jeans, an oversize wool sweater (an old one of Tadd’s, I think), and a baseball hat. This time I was the one who did the recognizing.
    “John! Hi!”
    He took a moment to connect the dots. “Anne . . . I almost didn’t recognize you.”
    Why oh why did I have to run into him looking like this? Of course, he looked perfect in his camel-colored hunter’s jacket.
    I adjusted my baseball hat nervously. “Oh, I just popped out for a coffee. I’m in the middle of writing. Anyway, how are you?”
    “I’m good . . .” He raised his left hand to run it through his hair. He has great hair, black and thick. I followed the path of his hand through it. It was then that I noticed a glint of platinum.
    “You’re married!?”
    “Sure. Aren’t you?”
    “No, I’m not married.”
    “Oh, sorry. I thought I heard you were.”
    He heard I was married! Maybe he heard that, and it broke his heart, and he married the first girl who came along, out of misery and spite, and—
    “Earth to Anne.” He waved his wedding-ringed hand in front of my eyes.
    “Sorry, I spaced for a moment. How long have you been married?”
    “Three years.”
    “Three years!?”
    Several people on the street turned around at the sharp tone of my voice.
    “Anne, calm down.”
    “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I said, just as loudly as before.
    His powder-blue eyes clouded with annoyance. “What’s your problem?”
    “ What’s my problem? Mister I-Break-Up-with-People-on-Their-Birthday is asking me what my problem is?” My voice rose with each beat of my heart.
    “Will you keep it down?”
    “Jesus Christ.”
    He looked ashamed. “Look, Anne, I’m sorry if I hurt you, and I’ve had regrets about the birthday thing, but it wasn’t right between us. Not like it is with Sasha. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it’s true.”
    I knew immediately what he meant. I didn’t know Sasha or anything about their relationship, but we weren’t right together. Not past the surface. Which is my problem. Those damn handsome surfaces that make my heart race and my brain turn off.
    “So you met the right woman, and you were suddenly ready to settle down?”
    “Yeah.”
    “It was that simple?”
    “Love doesn’t have to be