“Mark. Mark! Stop! Would you wait?”

My best friend doesn’t turn around, but I don’t stop chasing him.

And neither one of us so much as glances at the horde of people staring at us.

And don’t even ask me about Colin. I don’t know where he went, don’t care. I’ll owe him an email later, but Mark . . .

I owe him so much more than that.

“Mark. Damn it!”

I see a mom cover the ears of her kid and glare at me, and I feel bad, I do, but this is my heart on the line, people!

I catch up with him just as his hand is on the handle of the truck door. I bat it away, and he whirls around.

What I see on his face nearly takes my breath away. Anger, yes, but also hurt, hurt that’s so unabashedly undisguised that my own eyes water.

“I—” I realize I’m so ill-prepared for this moment. For this whole scene, really.

“What?” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders braced against the wind and the increasing snow, and . . . me. He’s braced for hurt from me.

“He just showed up,” I say. “I didn’t tell him to come, I swear.”

“Did you want him to?”

“I—no. I haven’t really thought about him since you and I . . .”

He steps closer, expression angry. “Since you and I what, Kelly. Hooked up?”

“Don’t make it sound so cheap,” I say, pushing him back slightly.

“I’m not the one cheapening it, Kell. I’m the one planning picnics for us. You’re the one kissing other guys.”

I wince because he’s right—so right.

“What’s he doing here?”

Right. Colin. I shrug. “I told you. He just showed up.”

“To kiss you. And have drinks.”

“The kiss was just because of the mistletoe—”

“Yeah? How’d he do?” Mark asks, his voice cold. “He pass your test? That’s been the plan, right? Get them beneath the mistletoe, find out if they’re the fated Prince Charming?”

“Yes, but that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I didn’t ask him here. I couldn’t even find him!”

“But you tried.”

“Would you stop interrupting me!” I shove at his shoulders in pent-up frustration, although he doesn’t budge.

He runs a hand through his hair, his own frustration evident. “Fine. Just answer me this. If you could have found Colin, would you have asked him here? Found a way to see him?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Mark winces, just slightly. “And the fact that he showed up. Coincidence? Destiny?”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” I say, before I can think better of it.

He lets out a joyless laugh. “Right. No, of course not. The ex-boyfriend who broke your heart must be here as part of the universe’s grand plan, right?”

I rub my hands over my face in frustration that we can’t seem to get on the same page. “Look, Mark. I chased after you. I’m not ready to end this yet.”

“Why?”

The question’s brutally simple. As the answer should be . . .

“I think I’m in love with you.”

He goes very still, his gaze darkening with something that looks like hope before he shuts it down. Mark shakes his head. “You think.”

“Well, I mean . . . this is new, and—”

“It’s not new, Kelly,” he shouts. A couple of people give us startled looks, and he closes his eyes, lowering his voice. “I’ve been right here for ten years. Ten goddamn years I’ve waited for you to get over your childish assumptions that we’re not meant for each other because of our birthdays, or because your damn Magic 8 ball didn’t say ‘soulmate’ whenever you said my name, or whatever.”

Wait, what? “Mark—”

“Ten years, I’ve been right here,” he says again, his hands wrapping around my upper arms and giving me a little shake, “waiting for you to see that I’m the one for you. You want to know why Erika and I broke up? You. You weren’t with Colin anymore, and any fool could see Doug was going to be a short-term rebound. Like a fool, I thought it was time, but then you were gone again, with some other guy. Then another.”

“You were in relationships, too! Plenty of them. How was I supposed to know you . . . Wait, have you had feelings for me all this time?”

Instead of answering my question, he looks away, his gaze distant. Then his eyes swing back to mine. “I’m opening a restaurant in Manhattan.”

Weird timing.

“I know, Erika mentioned it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’ll be seven days a week at first, until I get it up and running, but then I’ll split my time. Weekdays there. Weekends here.”

Just like my schedule. “That’s great, but what was with the big secret? You didn’t think that I’d want to know my best friend was going to live in the same city all the time instead of half the time? That I wouldn’t be thrilled that my best friend was taking a huge step forward in his career?”

“I was hoping that when you found out you wouldn’t be my best friend. Or at least not just that. I was biding my time, hoping that when I found an apartment there, it wouldn’t be my apartment, but our apartment.”

My brain scrambles to sort all this out, but it’s too much. I can’t think, I don’t know how to feel—

“I’m in love with you, Kelly. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. I loved you like a boy loves a girl back then, when you were the only one there for me. And now I love you like a man loves a woman, because you’re the only one I want. For always.”

My heart leaps, but he’s not done.

His voice is sad. Resigned. “But I don’t . . .” He gives his head a quick shake. “I don’t want to take it slow. I can’t sit around and wait for you to figure out if you feel the same.”

My heart stumbles in my chest. “Mark—”

He lifts his hand to my cheek, and though the gesture’s gentle, the expression on his face is resigned, and my heart beats faster in panic.

“I can’t keep waiting for you, Kelly. I can’t keep wasting year after year hoping you’ll feel the same, only to lose you every time a tarot card or crystal ball leads you elsewhere.”

His lips are soft against mine, a whisper of a kiss that’s both meltingly tender and heartbreakingly bittersweet.

“Mark.” My voice is a shattered whisper, and I lift desperate fingers to his wrist, clinging. “I told you I think I love you.”

His smile is sad. “I want more than ‘I think,’ Kell. I deserve better.” He gently eases away, handing me the car keys. “Take it. I’ll find another ride.”

Helplessly I watch him go. And as tears run down my face, I realize why his kiss seemed so brutally bittersweet.

The kiss was a goodbye.