Have you ever been filled with a burning urge to reach out, grab something, and hurl it across the room so it could shatter across the wall and serve as a momentary release for the fountain of rage that was spouting inside of you before that same rage grew into a waterfall and consumed your entire being?

No? Just me?

Okay, well, that was exactly how I felt as I looked at the oversized candy cane decorations I had sitting on my desk.

Why? Why can’t things just work out for once?

Time was crawling by. I came into work every day, clocked in, sat at my desk to then clock out, get home, crawl into bed, and watch brainless shows on my iPad until I fell asleep. Dinner was thrown in somewhere there when I got hungry.

I was a mess. And could you blame me?

Here, I’ll answer that: no. None of this was my fault! And that made it even more frustrating. If I could pinpoint one thing I may have done to push that cheating scum into someone else’s hands, then I could redirect all my anger and sadness, and I could focus it on that one thing.

But I didn’t do anything. I was the best damn husband I could be. We rarely argued, we split the chores around the apartment, and I never felt like the relationship was unbalanced. Our sex life was… I mean, it wasn’t anything crazy, but it got the job done. Like every other week or so we got it on, and that seemed fine.

Everything was fine.

But fine’s not enough.

I sighed, made a cave with my arms, and dropped my head in. I guess if there was one thing I could pinpoint where I may have messed up was me saying yes to the shotgun wedding in the first place. I’d only known Barry a few weeks before we decided to get hitched. It was the romantic in me that saw a handsome and kind man and was immediately ready to get swept off into the sunset, not dropped off a cliff as the sun set.

I should have known…

The front door opened and filled the room with a rush of cold air. I lifted my head and looked to the entrance, seeing Zane Holden enter first. He was the owner of Stonewall Investigations and also one of my mentors. He hired me first as his assistant and then moved me on to manage the entire office and hold down the front desk, and through all our highs and lows here at Stonewall, Zane always made sure I was okay. In fact, he was more attentive to me than Barry was after the serial killer known as the Unicorn struck and took one of our own.

“Hey there,” he said, stepping to the side. I realized someone was behind him, the harsh light of the afternoon sun blocking the man’s features from me for a second. Then he came inside, and my heart dropped to my feet only to lurch up and threaten to fall out of my mouth.

I kept myself composed and smiled at both of them, even though I felt like my insides had all been melted away. “Hey, Zane. Hi, Mr. Rose,” I said.

“Please, it’s Declan,” he said, coming over to my desk. Zane gave his usual knock on the edge of my desk as he walked by.

“Come by my office when you’re free,” he said. “I’ve got some things I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure thing,” I said. Instantly my thoughts went to me getting fired because that was really exactly what my life needed at this point (insert severe eye roll here, folks). But no, Zane would never do that to me. Especially since there really wasn’t any reason to let me go, and he also knew what was going on in my personal life.

He left the lobby, going up the stairs to his office. Stonewall Investigations operated inside a brownstone that had a homey feel to it, which was what Zane was looking for when he was opening up his agency. He told me he wanted people to feel as comfortable as possible because usually when they were looking for a detective, something was going wrong in their lives. So the lobby felt similar to a comfy living room, with a big couch for anyone waiting and a warm color palette with the soft white walls and scenic paintings done in pastels, bordered with shiny metallic garland. There was a hallway past my desk that led to the other offices, which was where Declan would want to be headed.

Except he was still standing in front of my desk, looking down at me with a weird smile on his face. I couldn’t really read it, and it was making me uncomfortable.

Not in a creepy “this guy’s wearing a trench coat and might kill me” kind of way. It was more a feeling like there was a warmth in the pit of my stomach that was starting to expand the longer he stood there.

“You’re looking for Detective Masters, right?” I asked, looking down at my desk as if there were some important paperwork I needed to deal with all of a sudden.

Too bad there wasn’t even a speck of dust on my desk, much less a pile of papers I could use to distract myself.

“I’m actually a little early,” he said, his voice drawing my eyes up from my empty desk. I swallowed. There was a clock hanging on the wall behind him, and sure enough, it was smack in the middle of Mark’s lunch hour. I remember seeing him walk out, like, twenty minutes ago.

“Right, you can take a seat and get comfortable, then. There are some magazines if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

He laughed at that, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He was wearing a different leather jacket, with zippers and buttons on places that absolutely needed no zippers or buttons, and yet somehow he looked so damn cool in it. If I put that on, I’d look ridiculous, even with my penchant for interesting fashion, but Declan pulled it off effortlessly. It helped that his hair looked professionally styled, with short sides and a well-combed and hair-sprayed top.

He started to take off the jacket but didn’t move to the couch. He stood by my desk, putting the jacket on his arm as he looked around. “This is a really great place. You guys are doing a lot of good for the community.”

“Thanks. We make sure to help anyone who walks through those doors.” I looked over as he sat down on the couch. He crossed one leg over the other, and his eyes met mine, and that warm feeling in my stomach expanded further. “But it does feel good knowing we offer a safe space for people who may not feel comfortable walking into a police station. It sucks to think prejudice and bigotry still exist, but it’s dumb to think they don’t.”

“Very, very true.” Declan took a deep breath in, letting it out through his nose. My mood was still in the dumpster out around the corner, but at least the seconds weren’t moving at a slug’s pace anymore. I turned my chair and tried to find something to do on the computer, but I was way too aware of Declan sitting only a few feet away from me.

“Any plans for the holidays?” he asked as if sensing my desire to break the silence.

“Nope,” I said. “I’m not really in a celebration kind of mood this year. I’ll save it all for next year’s Christmas.”

“That’s weird—a few weeks ago you seemed to be all about the Christmas spirit. Remember, you almost made me blind with that chemical powder attack you pulled on me?”

I looked up, my eyes wide. There was a smile playing on Declan’s face, and it made me want to get up, go over there, and kiss it right off of— Whoa, wait, what? No, no, not kiss. I definitely didn’t want to do that. “I told you to go wash it off right away,” I said, smirking. “Not my fault if you didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry, you just froze me in place there. Eyesight be damned.” He laughed again, the sound filling the small room. “So what happened? Why are you subtly cosplaying the Grinch?”

“Huh?” I looked down at what I was wearing, and sure enough, the asshole had me pegged. I was wearing a fuzzy green sweater that just so happened to be the exact shade of green as the Grinch’s. “Goddamnit.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said, “Grinch green is a good color on you. Brings out your eyes and your two-sizes-too-small heart.”

I cocked my head, narrowing my eyelids. “Thank you.” And then I laughed. Declan was starting to feel like someone I hung out with regularly, not someone who I barely even knew. “It’s a long story,” I said, stopping my eyes from rolling.

“I’ve still got some time,” Declan said, glancing down at his Apple watch. I took that moment to appreciate how well his light blue jeans fit, especially around the crotch where there was a noticeable package on display. The kind of package I wouldn’t think twice about overnighting.

Uggh, Mark, if you don’t get back soon, I’m going to lose it.

“No, seriously, it’s a long story, and it’s not even that exciting.” Except for the fact that it was like a freaking personal soap opera. “How about you?” I asked, wanting to take the attention off me. “Do you have any plans for the holidays?”

He looked at me, a smile playing on his face that told me he knew exactly what I was doing. Was he going to play along and let me switch topics, or was he going to press?

“I’ve got a big family thing.” He let it slide. “My mom’s really into the season. She started up this annual retreat six years ago. We rent a big ranch property in Ridgefield, Connecticut, and my mom gets it transformed into a Christmas theme park basically. We hang out there for a week and some days.”

“That sounds like a great time.” Much better than my plans, which are eating takeout and drinking a bottle of wine by myself.

“It won’t be,” he said, surprising me. We both laughed, and then he went on to explain. “My family’s been a mess lately, more so than usual. I have a feeling that this year things are going to get even crazier. On top of that, I’m going by myself while everyone else is pretty much paired up, so that’s definitely not ideal.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see that being problematic.”

“Very.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find someone over there,” I offered.

“At my family’s retreat?” he said, arching a well-taken-care-of eyebrow.

I laughed and shook my head, feeling myself start to blush. “Obviously not anyone from your family. But maybe there’s a delivery person who shows up, and you both fall madly in love with each other, surrounded by your family’s Christmas wonderland getaway. You can make cute little snow angels and throw snowballs at each other and adopt a beautiful little puppy with floppy ears and a red velvet bow around his neck.”

Declan looked at me, his eyes seeming to scan me. The warmth inside me was now a full-on fire. I still wasn’t even sure if he was gay, so I kept my use of pronouns vague. He could pass as almost any number on the Kinsey scale, and I’d believe it, although the looks he was giving me were definitely throwing him toward that six-end of the scale.

“You watch a lot of Lifetime movies, don’t you?” he asked, smirking.

“A few,” I said. “Okay, fine, a lot. Well, I used to. Not so much anymore.”

Not since I realized love was something made up to sell cute cards and pretty flowers.

“I love those movies, man.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhmm,” he said, nodding. “I’m a big sap. I like happy endings and sweet love stories. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good action flick, too, and the Star Wars films always get me excited. But there’s something about a good romance that gets me. I love the idea that there’s someone out there for everyone. A special, almost celestial kind of match. As if the same forces that arranged the Little Dipper got together and arranged the pairing of two perfect souls.”

He sounded… Jesus, he sounded perfect.

Nope. Don’t even think that.

I had to rein in my thoughts because I was going on a wild ride in my head. One thing that helped bring me back down to earth was rubbing my ring finger, feeling the empty space there and being reminded about how much hurt I’d felt over the past weeks. It brought me back to reality, but it still didn’t put out the flames that were fanning through my chest with every heartbeat.

Mark! Where the hell are you?