Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

by Carly Alexander

  I nearly spit my water out through my nose. “Don’t tell me you believe in that soul mate theory? Think about it, Ryan. It’s the stuff that romance novels and Hollywood films are made of—a big, fat load of marketing crap.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, the commercial world plays it up. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

  “Oh, please!” I stabbed a spoon into my frozen hot chocolate. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a grown man. Do you really think there’s one woman out there whom you’re destined to be with?”

  “I know it. And I think, subconsciously, you know it, too. That’s why you haven’t settled. You’re waiting for the one.” He seemed so confident and calm that I couldn’t resist needling him a bit.

  “And how in the world are you going to find her, Ryan? I mean, you’re the math whiz engineer. What are the odds of every person on the planet finding their one and only soul mate? Talk about a needle in a haystack.”

  “The sad thing is, some people don’t wait to find their soul mate. They settle for a more practical choice—a person they can share a home with. Now if that’s what you’re looking for, there are thousands of choices. Face it, Madison, there are plenty of men you could manage to live with and still find a modicum of happiness.”

  “Do you think?” I glanced around the restaurant. “In this restaurant? Or do you mean, in the world? Because I would love to meet one of them.” I grinned. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. I need to start that mating thing. Preferably before Christmas, so,” I gestured to the room, “do you see any likely mates here for me?”

  “Go on, be facetious,” he said. “But you’ve got to admit, if you held out all these years, there must be a reason. Sure, you could settle.” He scraped at the top of the dessert. “I settled for practical when I married Katie. And she was a really nice person—just not my soul mate.”

  I shook my head. “So you let a marriage end because there were no fireworks?”

  “It’s about more than that. It’s about connection. When you know it’s out there, once you’ve felt it, falling back on a secondary relationship is like, well, it’s like settling for second best. An admission of failure.”

  He seemed so genuinely moved that I realized I’d better back off on my criticisms. “It’s a nice theory, Ryan, but I think you’re setting your expectations awfully high.”

  “Maddy, don’t you believe in magic anymore?”

  I shrugged.

  “The way I see it, a soul mate is the one magical thing left in life. To know there’s a person out there who can bring total fulfillment . . . it’s a miracle. The way Christmas brings magic to your life every year? That’s how I feel when I’m with her.”

  “Wait a second. So you’ve met your soul mate?”

  He looked at me, his eyes intensely blue. “Mm-hm.”

  I felt a little shiver. Nicole? Had I introduced Ryan to his soul mate? Whoa . . . big developments in the little PR offices of the Taft Museum. “Okay, then. Wow. So I guess you’d better move on that.”

  He smiled. “It’s a work in progress.”

  I swallowed back a little mound of frozen chocolate. Ryan was zeroing in on Nicole, right on target. He was going to find his soul mate for a happily-ever-after. They would probably get engaged for Christmas.

  And meanwhile, I hadn’t even stumbled on someone to settle for from the “second-best” list. Suddenly my throat felt tight, and despite my best efforts to shut down the emotion, tears stung my eyes. I was a colossal failure at love. I was going to die alone. I didn’t have a clue how to go about finding a true soul mate.

  A brass quartet version of “Silent Night” was playing as I dropped my spoon and sobbed. The music amplified my feeling of being a lost soul in a snowy, cozy universe of soul mates who had found each other.

  “Maddy, what is it?”

  I shook my head and pressed my napkin against my eyes. If I weren’t so overcome with emotion I’d have had the good grace to be embarrassed at getting all choked up in the center of Serendipity. “Nothing.” My voice trilled like a nervous sparrow. “It’s nothing.”

  But that was a lie. I’d just gotten a glimpse of the biggest failure of my life—the failure to connect with my soul mate. How had I wasted so much time looking for love when I should have been searching for sheer magic?

  “We should get back to Bloomingdale’s,” Ryan said, checking his watch. “I mean, we don’t want to hold up the guys at the loading dock.”

  I nodded, swallowing back tears. “Sure,” I squeaked. Through the haze of sorrow I could still see the tiny glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Okay, maybe I would be alone this Christmas and every holiday season henceforth. But at least Ryan and I were making a difference with the toy drive.

  Although it felt like a consolation prize, I had to remember that generosity was the real purpose of this season—the season of giving. It was a painful lesson, but I had to absorb the fact that Christmas wasn’t about having a man to share my tree.

  I dried my eyes, added a twenty to the one Ryan had put on the check, and stood up. “Okay,” I told Ryan, “let’s go play Santa.”

  35

  December 24, 2003

  “I’ll bet tonight is the night,” Nicole said as she ladled cups of wassail from the punch bowl on Ryan’s dining room table. I couldn’t help but notice that her nails were perfectly manicured, trimmed short, and lacquered with cherry red polish adorned with tiny holly leaves. All the better to show off the fat, sparkling diamond after Ryan slipped it on her finger.

  “Well, good luck,” I said, though I didn’t really mean it. For the past few days in the office, Nicole had been harping on her Christmas gift from Ryan, so sure she was getting an engagement ring, so much in love with him, so grateful to me for introducing them, blah-blah, blah-blah, blah-blah. Her bliss was killing me.

  I pushed Leo up the stairs and around the balcony that overlooked the wide-open living room.

  “Nice place,” he said, touching the mahogany newel post.

  “Psst!” I tugged him into the game room, which was still empty as the party had just begun and most of the guests hadn’t made it this far yet. “Was I that bad about Ian? That obnoxious? That smug?”

  “Please, honey, don’t compare yourself to that Pamela Anderson wannabe.”

  I sighed as we sank down on a buttery leather couch. “Why does that girl bother me so much?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?” he said.

  I leaned back and let my head roll over the arm as I took in the room’s exposed beams, the track lighting, the stucco walls hung with portraits in watercolors, the Oriental rug, the pool table. There was also some sort of video game setup in the corner, as well as a pinball machine beside the windows. For a Manhattan abode, Ryan’s carriage house was downright decadent. “Does Nicole get under everyone’s skin? Am I missing something here?”

  “Only the fact that you’re in love with Ryan.”

  I bolted upright. “What?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that eons ago? Granted, Nicole is an annoying little twit, but she was not a threat until she stole your man away.”

  “Ryan is not my man,” I said in a hushed voice. “Yes, he’s become a good friend, and I care about what happens to him. Maybe that’s why Nicole irks me. I don’t think she’s good enough for him.”

  “Of course not. How could she be when you are his perfect match?”

  “Leo, you’ve been watching too much of The Bachelor.”

  “And you’ve been living in denial. Every time I talk to you, you’ve got Ryan on your lips. Something you did together, something he said, some intellectual topic the two of you have been debating.”

  “Can’t I have a good friend without being in love?”

  Leo sighed, clearly frustrated with me. “Then let me ask you this: Is this man the Ryan you expected when he turned up in the lobby of your building?”

  I thought back to that morning when I’d been so annoyed to see him han
ging behind the doorman. “No. He’s changed.”

  “That’ll happen to a person in ten years,” Leo said. “How has he changed?” When I rolled my eyes, Leo put up a hand. “Just humor me with this little exercise.”

  “He’s not as naive and cloying,” I said. “He seems very straightforward, but he’s got a nice sense of humor when it’s put to the test, and he’s incredibly generous with his time. He takes an interest in the world around him, in the people around him.”

  “Plus he’s got a dynamite job and lives in one of the best properties on the isle of Manhattan,” Leo added. “Face it, the guy is a great package, inside and out. Tell me, why would you want to palm him off on someone like Nicole? Isn’t this man a keeper?”

  Letting my head loll back again, I tried to picture myself with Ryan . . . having dinner with him, going on outings like our toy deliveries, engaged in intimate conversation . . .

  The visions were so similar to the highlights of my last two weeks—the best moments of my recent life. I hadn’t really thought through the fact that my times with Ryan would be coming to an end so soon.

  I wasn’t ready to give him up.

  “Oh, Leo, you’re right,” I said as my spirits began to sink.

  “He’s . . . I’m ... I could love him,” I admitted. “I really could love him, but it’s too late now. He’s all wrapped up in Nicole.”

  “Is he?”

  “Didn’t you just see? They’re getting engaged. He brings her flowers. She’s serving the punch at his party.”

  “They’re in the planning stages. It’s not too late, Madison. Go after your man! Stake your claim.”

  “I can’t.” I tossed back the rest of my wassail and sat up straight. “I just can’t do that now, Leo. I may be a lousy matchmaker, but I will not wreck someone else’s relationship just because . . . because I was slow to see something that was in my face all this time.” I raked back my hair, feeling totally bummed. “What can I do?”

  Leo lifted his glass in a toast. “My recommendation? Drink heavily.”

  I took Leo up on his advice. The wassail didn’t seem to be a fast enough ticket, so I meandered over to the bar where Benjamin was mixing some martinis.

  Wolf was there, stabbing olives from the jar with a holly-tipped skewer. “Madison! You must let Benjamin mix you a drink. Did you know he used to tend bar at the Iguana?”

  “I poured my way through grad school,” Benjamin said, tipping a frosted shaker over a martini glass.

  Wolf popped an olive into my mouth. “Did you know, there’s no hangover if you eat the olives?”

  I chewed vigorously. “I’ll hold you to it,” I said, picking up one of the martini glasses. “Now there’s a drink with my name on it.” I took a sip and let out a little howl. “That is one kick-ass martini.” I tossed it back, letting it burn in a steady stream down to my toes.

  “You’d better watch that stuff,” Benjamin said. “It sneaks up on you.”

  I popped the olive in my mouth and handed him the glass for a refill. “It’s all right. I’m not driving.”

  “Okay,” he said, reaching for the bottle of Tanqueray. “But don’t blame me when you start seeing double.”

  “Benjamin, let me tell you. I have seen many things in the past few weeks. I’ve been visited by the ghosts of Christmas past and Christmas present. And b’lieve me, I don’t want to look into the future.”

  He smiled. “Aw, the future’s not so bad. I’m going to have a kid in the future, and I’ve gotta believe there’s hope for this world.”

  You poor, poor man, clinging to hope, I thought as the room seemed to grow a tad darker, the pain a little bit lighter. I took another drink and suddenly my glass was empty again.

  “Uh-oh!” I slid it closer to Benjamin. “Dry again. Is that why they call them dry martinis?” I giggled.

  He refilled my glass from the shaker. “I don’t know how you handle it,” he said. “Two martinis and I’m ready for bed.”

  “’Sanks,” I said as I stumbled off with my sexy, sexy drink.

  36

  Somewhere in my martini stupor I danced with Wolf to “Jingle Bell Rock.” Ryan had moved his furniture to the side for a dance floor, and people seemed to be into it. The living room was perfect for dancing, with a grand cathedral ceiling, made even more majestic by the upstairs hall that surrounded the ground floor with a mahogany balcony. Wolf was a sharp dancer, very cool and low-key, similar to his personality, and with his new haircut, trimmed close on the sides with a few thick curls on top, he looked so damned cute. We stayed in the pack when the music switched to the Beach Boys’ “Little Saint Nick,” then “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”

  At one point I spun around and found Ryan dancing behind me. He stepped up to me, laughing, but I felt a little sick, like I was flirting with someone else’s guy. I broke away from the dance floor and went straight to the bar for a bottle of water.

  Ryan came off the dance floor and waved at me. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you,” he called.

  What could I do? I followed him over to the Christmas tree, where he picked up a silver embossed gift bag and handed it to me. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  I clutched the bag, feeling like a total idiot. Ryan had gotten me a gift, and I had nothing for him. Once again, I had dissed the love of my life. “Ryan, you shouldn’t have,” I said.

  “I couldn’t resist,” he said. “Go on, open it.”

  I reached into the bag. Nestled in white tissue was a shiny pink object—the pink sprite I had admired in Bloomingdale’s Christmas shop. I lifted it, biting my lips as the thin glass wand twinkled in the light from the tree. “My ornament.”

  “I had a feeling it was special to you.”

  “But it was the last one in the store, and it was broken.”

  He shrugged. “There are other Bloomingdale’s in the country. I ordered it online.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling my throat grow thick as I thought of how hopeful the fairy had made me feel. She had been my symbol of hope, and now, ironically, I owned the lovely ornament, but there was no more hope. I’d missed my shot with Ryan. I’d dated just about every eligible male in Manhattan. No ... from now on, the only hope in my life would be in my job, or maybe in the toy drive. I would have to channel my energies into my career and become the old spinster maiden of my floor, taking Mrs. Endicott’s place.

  “Are you okay?” Ryan asked.

  “I need a drink. I think I sweated too much of the alcohol away on the dance floor.” I kissed his cheek, trying not to let my fingers linger too long on his shoulder, but ooh, could I just savor the electricity of touching him one last time? And his scent—soap and cedar. I had to get away from him before I started crying. “Thanks again,” I said, turning away.

  I grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses and wandered upstairs, circling along the balcony, hoping to find a room with Madison-friendly occupants. The game room was now filled with men who seemed in the throes of competition. Who were they, and where did they come from? I peered at them from the doorway, then turned away and stood at the balcony overlooking the action below. Nicole stood by the tree with Ryan now, the two of them looking like a portrait for a yuppy Christmas card. He reached over and brushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes, such a loving gesture, such an intimate gesture, I couldn’t stand to watch.

  Pushing away from the railing I moved on to the next room. It was a little library/den, and Jenna was stretched out on the sofa with her feet up. Sugar and Leo were behind her, examining book titles on the wall of shelves.

  I stepped in and held up the bottle. “Greetings and libations!”

  “For me?” Jenna grinned. “You can keep the glasses. I’ll just guzzle from the bottle.”

  I curled onto the floor beside her. “Listen, sister, it won’t be long until you’re back in the saddle. When is opening day—March? April? You, me and a few cups of that godawful swill they call beer at Yankee Stadium.” />
  “You are on,” Jenna said. “You know, sometimes I look down at this huge belly and I wonder how I got here. I mean, two years ago, I wasn’t even married.”

  I poured myself a glass of wine. “When it happened, it happened fast.”

  “Yeah, but you were a slow starter,” Leo said over his shoulder. “How many years were you with Benjamin before you even had sex?”

  “Shhh!” Jenna rasped. “Benjamin is a very private person.”

  Just then Ryan poked his head in through the open doorway. I steeled myself, hoping he would just go away, but no such luck. “Who’s telling secrets here?” he teased.

  “Jenna’s about to spill the most intimate details of her life,” Sugar said, coming around to the front of the sofa. “And I’m going to do the PowerPoint presentation.”

  “Ryan.” Jenna put her hands together, as if praying. “Could you light a fire for us? It would be so cozy.”

  “No problem,” he said, stepping over to the side of the fireplace. He flicked the switch, and flames popped up over the logs. “It’s gas.”

  “I love it!” Jenna applauded with her tiny hands.

  “Okay, Madame Cho,” Leo said. “We’ve set the stage, now spill.”

  Jenna glanced toward the door. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but someone has to warn me if Benjamin is coming. He’s such a private person; he’d die if he heard me talking about this.”

  “I’ll stand guard,” Sugar said, draping herself across the doorway.

  Ryan sat quietly in a chair beside the fireplace. Realizing that he was staying, I took a deep slug of wine to dull the pain.

  “Tell us, Jen,” I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

  “Was he holding back?” Leo asked. “I mean, you two were just friends for like, ten years.”

  Jenna shook her head. “It was totally me. I was the one holding things up, keeping us apart, pushing Benjamin away. I was so sure that I wanted to be with a different kind of person. I also had rebellion issues with my parents, and I was determined to marry a non-Asian guy just to assert my independence and prove to them that I could defy them.”