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Chapter 4
Abbi
There’snowayIcan go back to the office right away, I just can’t.
That meeting with Dean wasa lot. Probably the first time I’ve ever felt distracted during an interview. It was like jumping out of a plane and free-falling without a parachute. I was clutching at air as I went with no plan for how it would end. He’s a good-looking guy too, so if his date is lucky enough to have chemistry with him, I think she’s in for a treat.
I think I kept up a pretty good front, but I was nowhere near my usually calm and collected self, which is why I find myself stopping by my favorite little store on my return walk. Smash Beauty is a mecca for girls who like makeup. I don’t necessarily wear a lot, but what I do wear, I want to love. Everything here is sustainable, has cute packaging, and is cruelty-free. Oh, and it all does the job it promises, unlike half the products on the market.
Sniffing a few perfumes, I start to relax, and by the time I’ve decided to treat myself and chosen one, I’m feeling much calmer. I also grab a bright coral red lipstick because the color brings me joy. Retail therapy mixed with aromatherapy is powerful stuff.
As I resume my walk, I reflect more clinically on my meeting with Dean. He’s reluctant for sure, but I think I might have a match for him that will smooth over some of his jagged edges. I pull her profile up on my phone, and as I stride up the sidewalk, I think over the match. Yes, I’m sure I’m onto a winner here.
By the time I get back to the office and run my meeting and proposed match past Ellen, I know I’m on the right track. I’ve even managed to line up a couple more options, so in theory, Dean is all set.
I hit send on the email and cross my fingers.
Finally, Friday morning rolls around, and by nine-fifteen, I can’t wait any longer to call Dean. I was hoping I might have heard from him or his date by now, but that might be more of a reflection of my failure to think about anything but Dean for the last few days.
Dean’s date, I mean.
My fingers drum on the table’s surface in the tiny little office the staff shares fordelicatediscussions. As I pace waiting for the call to connect, I’m nervous, excited, hopeful, and fluttery.
The voice that answers is all business.
“Dean Lawless,” he barks. I glance at the display, thinking I must have called his work number by accident. Nope. This is his private mobile.Sheesh, he needs to work on that.
I put on a cheerful, professional tone. Despite how rude Dean was to me the other day, which is partly understandable given his mom has forced this on him, I actually care about how his date went and not just out of self-interest to do with my ongoing employment.
“Hi, Dean, It’s Abbi from Match X. I wanted to check in with you to see how last night’s date went.”
There’s a pause.
A pause that’s a fraction longer than it should be.
A pause that tells me the date was an unmitigated disaster.
“So… bit of a strange story.” Dean sounds almost sheepish. His tone of voice has completely changed. His lack of directness in answering tells me it was probably his fault, and he feels bad about whatever happened. Because God knows, if Dean were inconvenienced or put out in any way, he’d have called me at the time and given me an earful.
“Oh, yes? Well, how did it go?”
“It didn’t.”
Oh my God. I immediately feel bad for the poor woman, Melinda, who I set him up with. I sort of felt bad matching her up with him in the first place because of his attitude issue, but she’s such a lovely woman, gorgeous too, and so ready to settle down—I figured I should go for broke and give him the perfect woman, or as close to it as I’ve ever seen, right off the bat. Not hold anything back.
God, I’ll have to call her right after this and make sure she’s okay. She’s had a run of bad dates and thought she’d have a better chance at love if she went to professionals. She wants a genuine match. Real love. She has her own money, her own business, and no patience for timewasters. She’s also set up a charity sending books to children who can’t access libraries. Honestly, she makes me want to be a better woman.
And Dean blew it.
“Okay, you want to expand on that a little?” I somehow manage to keep my voice level.
“It didn’t happen...”
“Ibegyour pardon?” I my voice rises about two octaves.
“Well, it started out all right… we exchanged emails and organized to meet,” he explains slowly.
Fuck, get to the point.
