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“No, right.”
“How did it happen?”
“I used to climb.” He turns his head back to the pictures of the wall, breaking eye contact. “It doesn’t always go as planned.”
An accident, then. Not that getting information out of him is easy.
“That sounds thrilling, climbing,” I comment, notingadventurouson his client profile. “I’ve only tried on one of those indoor gyms once. God, that was difficult.”
“Hmm,” he says.
“I didn’t plan on going, but it was with a boyfriend, and he insisted. It didn’t last. My interest in climbing, I mean. Well, he didn’t last, either.”
I never ramble on like this with a client. But here I am, filling up the silence. Perhaps he’ll feel more comfortable if I make a fool of myself.
Anthony’s gaze shifts back to me. “Indoor climbing gyms aren’t fun. He should have taken you somewhere outdoors.”
I clear my throat. “Yes. Well, perhaps one day. Let’s see here… oh, this is a fun one. Give me two truths and a lie about yourself.”
“Two truths and a lie?”
“Yes. I’ll see if I can parcel out the lie.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and glances back at the half-open door to my office. “I’m born in January, my social security number ends in thirty-seven, and this suit is new.”
Oh, this man is frustrating.
I don’t let it show, giving him a smile. “One of them is a lie?”
“Yes.” There’s challenge in his eyes. Clearly, he thinks he’s outsmarted my prompt. His three things are about as personal as asking someone about the weather.
“You’re not born in January,” I guess.
“Wrong. My social security number does not end in thirty-seven.”
I smile, like he’s won a point, and return to the client profile.Enjoys being difficult,I write.Could be devastating if he decides to flirt with a woman in earnest. Doubtful he’ll ever do something he doesn’t want to.
“You learned a lot about me from that response,” he says. “What did you just write?”
I ignore his question. “What are your thoughts on marriage?”
He drums his fingers against the armrest again. A cue that he’s uncomfortable? Or just bored?
“Good for some, bad for others,” he replies.
“And where do you land?”
“I doubt it’s something for me.”
My stomach sinks at that. He really is going into this with a cynical mindset, not just to the matchmaking service, but at the idea of love and relationships in general. I might lose this bet.
But I refuse to admit that until it’s time. And who knows, by then he might have found one of our fellow clients far too attractive to remember this little sparring match.
“Not what you wanted to hear?” he asks.
I shake my head. “The thing that makes Opate Match work is that we don’t set people up based on what they project to the world. We set them up based on who they actually are. So I won’t suggest you to one of our clients who are looking for marriage within the coming years.”
“Good,” he says.
