Romance is dead.
Somewhere between the normalization of situationships and “u up?” as an acceptable form of romantic interest, we seem to have all given up on the whole flowery enterprise. The bar for men is so low that a thoughtful text practically constitutes a marriage proposal. These days, Mr. Darcy could probably send Elizabeth Bennet a fire emoji and call it a day. But Katie Jung’s “You’re the One That I Haunt” suggests there might still be some life in romance — even if the man doing the romancing doesn’t exactly have much life of his own.
For 15 years, Carter Coldwell has been Libby Lakoski’s best friend, secret crush, and the center of her universe. She keeps holding out hope that one day, someday, he’ll offer her more than just the crumbs of his affection. There’s just one problem: He’s recently engaged to Sabrina, a British diamond heiress. Still, Libby isn’t exactly ready to give up her extra happily ever after. Just as she’s contemplating how to win Carter over, his cousin Trip appears in her life — or, well, haunts it. His body is in a coma, his spirit is wandering around New York, and he’s determined to break the family curse responsible for his predicament before it claims Carter, too. Libby is the only person who can see Trip, making her his partner in an investigation with one particularly cruel catch: Saving Carter means making sure he marries Sabrina. So Libby teams up with one Coldwell to help another, even as her feelings for both become increasingly complicated.
This book has a wonderfully messy setup, and Jung has a lot of fun with it. There’s a love triangle, a family mystery, a ticking clock, and enough romantic tension to make a Victorian chaperone feel nervous. The whole thing has all the energy and charm of an early-2000s romantic comedy: The story is funny and sweet and delightfully ridiculous, and the plot has enough mystery to keep the characters busy between bouts of flirting. Jung puts New York City to excellent use, sending Libby and Trip across the city in pursuit of clues (and giving me yet another reason to contemplate a move I can’t exactly afford). The city feels lively and romantic, a place full of possibilities and interesting people — and apparently, the occasional super sexy ghost.
Libby is easy to root for — she’s funny, loyal, quick-witted, and hopelessly romantic, even though her devotion to Carter has made her remarkably good at ignoring what everyone else can see. (Babes, he’s just not that into you.) Fifteen years is a long time to spend waiting for someone to fall in love with you, and Libby is so invested in the future she has always imagined that she can barely entertain the possibility of a different one.
It doesn’t help Carter’s case that his cousin is considerably better company.
Trip is funny, flirtatious, and cares about Libby in a way that makes her lifelong crush seem increasingly questionable. The duo has terrific banter, and Jung makes good use of the fact that they can’t touch — the whole ghost thing, duh — making even the smallest moments of attraction carry extra weight. If Trip makes a compelling case for dating outside the land of the living, Carter makes a compelling case for women raising their standards. Sure, Carter and his wealthy Upper East Side family have offered Libby a sense of belonging that she has struggled to find elsewhere, but it’s still hard to understand Libby’s devotion to a man who seems to take her presence in his life for granted. There’s hardly a competition between the two men. Trip is hot. Carter is… not.
Libby’s hope that Carter will finally see her as more than just his emotional safety net occasionally tests the limits of sympathy, but Jung eventually makes something worthwhile out of that frustration: Trip challenges Libby to recognize how much she’s been willing to give up for Carter, and her friendships help her find perspective beyond him. I loved watching her become more confident and realize she doesn’t have to keep waiting around for someone else to decide what she’s worth. The romance in this book is sweet, but it’s Libby’s development that gives the story its staying power.
Jung is so good at making the people around Libby worth knowing. Sabrina could be designed to be insufferable — she’s gorgeous, fabulously wealthy, sweeter than pie, and marrying the man Libby has spent half her life wanting — but the unlikely friendship that develops between the two is one of the book’s best surprises. I like a rom-com that recognizes that two women can care about each other — even when one is (unbeknownst to her) marrying the other’s dream man. (Especially when the dream man isn’t actually all that dreamy.) Ysenia is another standout, and Libby’s grandmother Babcia brings humor, personality, and a little supernatural know-how rooted in her family’s Polish heritage.
These women have distinct personalities and special places in Libby’s life, and Jung never reduces them to a Greek chorus telling her which man to choose. Instead, they make Libby’s world feel full, even when she can’t quite see that for herself. Because “You’re the One That I Haunt” is at its most interesting when Libby starts to realize how much of herself she has been willing to sacrifice at the altar of a relationship that doesn’t actually exist — and never actually has.
Unfortunately, the family curse isn’t nearly as compelling as the family drama. The magic feels thin — and more than a little confusing — compared with the attention Jung gives her characters and setting. The Coldwell curse is an interesting idea, and reversing it provides a good excuse for Libby and Trip to spend time together. But the supernatural elements don’t seem to follow particularly clear rules, and the eventual resolution raises almost as many questions as it answers. For a mystery that occupies so much of the plot, I wanted the clues and revelations to come together more convincingly. I also wanted a little more explanation of how the curse worked in the first place.
Still, I found it rather easy to forgive those shortcomings. Jung folds the supernatural into an otherwise recognizable world, and the magic works well enough for someone (me) so taken by the spell the book casts. There’s plenty happening outside the curse, and, anyway, I was much more interested in seeing how Libby handled those complications.
I finished this book thoroughly charmed — even if the state of romance in the real world is another story entirely. Modern dating has made disappearing without explanation practically routine, yet here’s a literal ghost who pays attention and actually sticks around. I thought the bar for men was on the floor. Apparently, it’s been six feet underground — and the dead are doing a better job of clearing it.
