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“Just because that’s how you met your girlfriend doesn’t mean it works that way for everyone. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s, well, a ‘she’. Remember, I haven’t seen them. Plus, I think they’re a recluse.”
Amber rolls her eyes and I sense a lesson coming. “Don’t be insensitive. She might have social anxiety or something close to it.”
She has a point. A good one. “You’re right. That was rude of me.”
“Good. I’ll make a decent person out of ya yet. And they are a ‘she’. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Call it women’s intuition.” Amber shrugs, a secret smile playing on her lips. Come to think of it, it’s the same smile she had when I first told her about my new place and the mystery person next door. Curious.
Putting my neighbor and blind dates aside, I steer us back to pouring over overtime laws. I have a big case coming up, which could net my clients thousands if I win. They need that money, after being short for so many years. I wish there was a better way to monitor these shady owners, but unless somebody files a complaint, it’s hard to catch the scumbags. But once they do, it’s game over. I’ve forced numerous mid-size business owners into early retirement, while elevating their former employees to a better quality of living, feeling like a minor hero each and every time.
Several hours later, Amber and I have made excellent progress, and I decided to call it a day. I still need to put together what Amber calls a “look.” Whatever that means.
“We kicked some corporate butt today!” Amber exclaims, packing up her desk.
“We did. You ready for your test?” I ask, following suit.
“Yep. I got this. The question is… do you have your look picked out? What are your colors? I still think this whole idea is terrible, but if you insist on going, at least look your best.”
“I have a couple of ideas. Leaning towards evening date casual… black chinos and a red polo.” Amber nods her head in approval.
All packed, I turn off the lights in the office and we head for the main door, walking past the now-empty receptionist’s desk. Tyler has to pick up his daughter from daycare, so he leaves at four. I’ve always believed a good boss is a flexible one.
Once outside, Amber and I say our goodbyes and part ways, but not before she leaves me with her latest premonition.
“Hey, bossman. Don’t worry, your future wife will be at that event. Maybe not the person those charlatans matched you with, but she will be there.”
“You think?” I’d laugh but her face is so serious and hopeful I’m afraid I’d hurt her feelings.
“I know.” She winks.
I love her to death, but she is one strange girl.
3
Sarah
Slowly turning, I study every angle of my outfit in the full-length mirror, cursing the position my boss has placed me in. I could’ve fought harder, and explained my crippling fear of social events, but honestly, the outcome would’ve been the same. I’d still be here in my bedroom getting ready to go to a dinner I have no business being at.
“Are you sure I look okay?” I ask Amber for the millionth time. She talked me into going with a simple red long-sleeved shirt dress and black leggings. No sense in pulling out all the stops for a man I have no interest in.
“You look fine.” Amber sighs, probably tired of feeding the insecurity monster. “Besides, you’re not dressing to impress him, anyway. You’re dressing for the other guy.”
I frown, confused as to what guy she’s talking about. This is a one-on-one, not speed dating. “What other guy?”
Amber rises from her reclined position on my bed, eyes lighting up with excitement at my question like she’s been dying to tell me about this mystery man. I haven’t seen her this pumped since I told her about my new neighbor. She keeps pressuring me to go over and introduce myself, but I tune her out, content with my window spying. Before him, it was her boss, a man she greatly admires but for some reason doesn’t call by his name, just ‘boss.’ I would’ve found out his name eventually if I hadn’t kept shutting her down. Not that it matters. He doesn’t sign my paychecks.
“The one you’re going to meet at this stupid dinner. The one who’ll keep you from becoming a spinster. Thirty is way too old to be single. And don’t roll your eyes.” Ignoring her, I roll them anyway. She’s been on this spinster kick for months, ever since I turned thirty. She’s a firm believer in finding love sooner rather than later. A hopeless romantic, her favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day.
Amber and I have been friends for several years now, ever since I met her at the park by my apartment. Sometimes my four walls feel suffocating and I have to get out and breathe some fresh air. I go early in the morning, when most people are either at school or work, having practically the whole place to myself. Despite my awkwardness, we became friends—the best of friends.
“We all can’t be as fortunate as you and meet our soulmate in our twenties, Amber.”
She goes all starry-eyed, minds off my dilemma, and now on her girlfriend. Then, shaking her head slightly, she comes back to me. “No, we can’t but we can be open to love. And I’m telling you, your soulmate will be at that dinner.”
There’s no sense in arguing with her. Once Amber believes something to be true, then it’s true. So I shift gears, calling her out on her inconsistency. “What about the guy next door? I thought he was supposed to be ‘the one’?”
A shrug and a noncommittal hum are all the answers I get. Not having time to waste on this topic anymore, I let it be, chalking the whole thing up to Amber being Amber. Fifteen minutes, a messy bun, and a quick swipe of lip gloss later, I’m out the door and on my way to my first—and last—blind date.
* * *
