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I didn’t pick up, but I did listen to the voicemail message he left me.“Hey, hon. It’s me. Sorry again about that little mix up we had on Monday. I still feel like a goof for that. Give me a call back.”
Hon. He called me ‘hon’, like he used to. He sounded easy-breezy, which made me doubt everything I saw on Monday afternoon. How could he call and leave a message like that, given what unfolded in that hotel lobby?
He made plans to have coffee with me, forgot said plans, and then practically threw his current relationship with his raven-haired lover in my face.
None of that was hinted at in his message though. He spoke into my voicemail as though nothing at all had happened. So, did it? Or did I read into the whole thing, painting it the way I wanted to see it?
I was already into Parker when I made that drive to Broad Hollow. I get that now. My old feelings for Parker came to life the minute I walked out of the guest bedroom in that seaweed mask and saw him standing in the entryway.
So, did I mis-interpret my interaction with Mortimer, because Iwantedto?
Doubt’s a tricky thing.
It sneaks in, burrows down, and then refuses to leave.
Ever since Mortimer left me that voicemail, I’ve been wrestling with doubt. And with that number. 93%
I love numbers.
Itrustnumbers.
I know how fickle and unpredictable human behavior is, while math equations and statistical models remain constant, no matter what.
Once you solve a formula, it’s always solved.
Forever.
Plenty of journalists have written about my Right Match formula, and all those articles say pretty much the same thing: that I ‘cracked the code’ for finding love. The articles applaud my company for our rigorous, scientific approach to romance. Thousands upon thousands of data points went into the making of the software we use for matchmaking.
The system has worked for hundreds of clients.
So… it should work for me, too.
In all my years of setting up matches for other people, I’veneverseen 93 percent compatibility.
86 percent, sure. Even 87.
On a rare occasion, 88 or 89.
But that’s it. Never anything higher.
The fact that Mortimer’s questionnaire and interviews, which were carefully processed by my staff, led to a compatibility of 93 percent is nothing short of a miracle.
Maybe we didn’t give it enough time,a little voice in my head whispers.Maybe me and Mortimer are a slow-burn kind of couple. One that takes years to actually shift from mutual respect and civility to something closer to love.
What would that kind of love look like?
What would it feel like?
What I have with Parker feels like a free fall. I’m tumbling head over heels through space, and I don’t even know what direction the ground is in. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why it’s called falling in love.
Or… maybe the ground is closer than I expect, and I’m about to know what doing a cannonball onto rocks feels like.
The sight of the cutest kitten ever pulls me back to the festival—thank God.
It’s much more pleasant to be here on this still-damp, sun dappled grass than in the shadowy, doubt-riddled corridors of my mind.
“Oh my gosh, she’s adorable!” I say, as Delilah deposits the squirming ball of fur in my arms.
