2. Chapter Two
As I stride into Metro Matchmakers on a mission to bring love to the heart of Dallas, my heels click across the polished floor like a metronome keeping pace with my heart. This place is my baby, born from countless hours of meticulous planning and an unwavering belief in happy-ever-afters.
“Morning, Rose.” Sarah, my personal assistant, greets me with a cheerful smile.
“Good morning!” I beam back, convinced that today will be a fantastic day.
I sip my triple-shot latte and scan the success stories framed on the wall—each one a testament to true love and, not-so-secretly, my matchmaking prowess when Sarah interrupts my self-congratulatory moment. “Rose, your 10 o’clock is waiting in the lobby.”
“Perfect! Send them in.” This is it, I think—the part of the day when I shine brightest.
Or at least it would have been until the universe decided to play dirty.
Just before I reach the door to my office, a look on Sarah’s face stops me dead in my tracks. “Sarah, what is it?”
“Um... Rose?” Her expression goes white as she stares down at her computer screen. “I think you might want to see this.”
I step behind her desk to glance at the screen, and my world tilts on its axis. There, in full HD betrayal, is Jace — my Jace — with his arms around a woman who is definitely not me.
What’s even worse is that she’s one of our clients. I watch in horror as she thrusts her tongue so far down my husband’s throat that it’s a wonder how he’s still able to breathe.
A pang of hurt pricks at my heart like a cactus needle. “Is this...?” I can’t even finish the sentence.
“It’s footage from the security cams last night.” Her voice is small and tight. Similar to how my heart feels.
The room spins. This is more than just betrayal. It’s the ultimate professional embarrassment and a PR nightmare if this thing leaks. A sour taste fills my mouth when I think about all the nights he told me he was staying late to work while I fought back suspicions.
“I need you to cancel my appointments until further notice. Tell them I’m tending to an urgent family matter, and we will contact them at a later time to reschedule,” I manage to choke out, clutching at the back of her chair for support. “And no one else sees this video. Understood?”
“Of course, Rose.”
I turn on my heel and return to the elevator with my shoulders back and head held high. Sarah may be my favorite employee, but that’s no reason to go soft and let her see me fall apart.
On the elevator, I fish my phone out of my purse with a shaky hand.
Hey, Dad. I’m coming home for a week or two. Tell Mom to make up a room for me, and I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Can’t wait to see you guys! Love you.
I hit send just as the elevator dings at the parking garage level, and when I make it to my car, I can’t help but feel relieved that I managed to do so without ugly crying in front of Walt, the parking attendant.
It’s a shame to admit that this empire I worked so hard to build suddenly feels more like a house of cards, threatening to collapse with the slightest breath. And there, right in the center, is Jace—pulling the ace from the deck, smirking as everything crumbles.
Back home, I rush to toss the last of my essentials into a suitcase, the sound of the zipper whizzing like a curtain closing on my seemingly perfect Dallas life. I take one last look around our luxury apartment and pause on my reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back appears strong and confident--from the outside, at least. Like the kind of woman who’s got it together. Mascara? Still intact. Smile? Well... it’s more of a grimace, but I’m working on it.
“Okay, Rose,” I pep talk myself, “Sugar Plum is just a pit stop. You’ll bounce back from this just like you always do.” My hometown is the only place I can think of where Jace’s infidelities won’t smear my reputation.
I grab my phone again, scrolling through the contacts until his name burns holes into my retinas. Jace Thatcher. The man I made a vow to, and now the reason for my hasty retreat.
I feel a tiny flicker of false hope as I foolishly wish he’d call and say this was all some horrible mistake. Then, he’d ask me to meet him at Del Frisco’s for a romantic candlelight dinner where he would grovel and order enough champagne and chocolate butter cake to make me forget how mad I am at him. Lord knows, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
“Come on, Rose, snap out of it,” I mutter, tapping the video call button.
An almost inaudible voice crackles on the other end, and my mother’s worried face appears on the screen.
“Mom?!” I shout as I lug my suitcase downstairs. “Can you hear me? Tell Dad I’m about to load up my car. I’ll be home in time for dinner, okay?”
“You’re coming alone?” Mom’s eyebrows shoot up like she’s just seen a pig do a pirouette. “Honey, what’s going on? Your father and I are worried.”
“Everything’s fine, Mom. Can’t a girl miss her parents?” I plaster on a smile that feels as fake as a three-dollar bill. My mother doesn’t need to know the whole sordid story—not yet, anyway.
“Do you want us to come pick you up? You know I hate the idea of you driving at night.” Dad pokes his head over my mother’s shoulder and looks into the phone’s camera with a quizzical look.
“Daddy... I’m a grown woman, remember? Besides, I’ll be there before the sun goes down.“ Firm words to mask the feeling that my knees are made of Jello.
“Alright, honey. Call us if you need anything.”
“Will do,” I promise.
“We’re so excited to see you, Rose. This will be such a nice treat for both of us.” Mom’s eyes are misty, and I feel a pang of guilt for not telling them everything.
“Bye, guys. Love you!” I wave into the camera, the finality of the moment hanging heavy in the air.
“Love you too, sweetheart!” Their chorus rings as if nothing’s changed since our last visit over Christmas break.
But everything’s changed.
I load up my suitcase into the trunk of my Lexus and pull away from the curb, the weight of my wedding ring feeling like an anchor on my finger. Maybe Jace will come to his senses. Maybe pigs will also start pirouetting.
“Here’s to fresh starts,” I say, catching a glimpse of the Dallas skyline fading in the rearview mirror as I drive further west.
My fingers fumble over my phone screen, typing and retyping the text to Julie Anderson, the only friend I still talk to from high school. Each version of my homecoming story feels like a layer of pride being stripped away, so I settle for the one that feels the most plausible without being pitiable.
Guess who’s coming back to Sugar Plum for a visit? celebrate emoji> I’ll be in town later this evening. Can’t wait to see you! heart emoji> Let’s plan a lunch! kissing face emoji>
There. No mention of Jace or shattered heart pieces. Just a girl boss taking a vacation because she can.
The phone buzzes immediately, and I can almost hear Julie’s excitement vibrating through the screen.
OMG! surprised face emoji> Best news EVER! Call me when you get settled in. We’ll celebrate your return in style! dancing lady emoji>
Absolutely. Can’t wait! heart emoji>
I force a smile as if she could see it, then slide the phone into my purse and remind myself to be grateful. At least I have one friend I can still call when times get tough.
As the miles roll by, the reality of Jace’s betrayal settles in like an unwelcome winter frost. I picture his arm around her and wonder if things could ever go back to the way they were. Not that they were ever great between Jace and me, but I liked the fairy tale world I lived in, even if it wasn’t my happily ever after.
“Come on, Rose,” I mutter. “You’ve matched hundreds of couples and fixed countless lonely hearts. You can fix this.” But confidence is a hard sell when the product is damaged goods.
And boy, do I feel damaged right about now.
My mind plays a montage of potential futures that don’t include Jace Thatcher. I could always take my clients and turn Metro Matchmakers into a quaint boutique agency. Or maybe I’ll write a book, “Love After Heartache,” which could be a bestseller. Rose Thatcher may be a woman scorned, but once I rise from the ashes, the sky is the limit.
I slide my Journey’s Greatest Hits CD into the disc slot, tap my fingers against the wheel to the rhythm of Don’t Stop Believing, and watch the hours fly by until a road sign welcoming me back to Sugar Plum appears. Despite the familiar stench of manure in the air, I feel a flutter in my chest as old memories come flooding back.
Once I pass through town, I take a road heading north toward the Taylor Family Apple Orchard. Gravel crunches under my tires when I pull into the drive of the same house I grew up in. It’s a sound I didn’t realize I missed so much.
Thoughts of Mom and Dad’s hugs, the way Mom always smells like apple butter, and Dad’s rough hands that are always surprisingly gentle are interrupted by loud barking from the front porch.
I step out of the car, and Toby, our thirteen-year-old English Mastiff, hobbles down the steps to greet me, my parents following close behind. Mom’s eyes glisten with unshed tears when she sees me, and Dad’s mustache twitches in what I know is an attempt to hide his smile.
“Rosebud!” Mom’s voice quivers as she wraps me in a warm hug.
“Hey, Pumpkin,” Dad says gruffly. “Welcome home.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I manage a small laugh to hide any shakiness in my voice. “It’s good to be back.”
We exchange pleasantries and laughs, all while skirting around the elephant in the room—my sudden return without Jace. But we’re Taylors. We tackle tough conversations after pie. Now is not the time.
“Your dad can get your bags. Let’s go inside and get you all settled in,” Mom says. I follow her up the steps, and when I step inside, the familiar scent of home wraps around me like a security blanket.
Soon, we’re all gathered around the Taylor family dining table with a spread of pot roast and Mom’s famous apple pie. It all smells so amazing, but the layers of deception that kept me shielded from the truth in Dallas, along with my appetite, have been stripped away. I guess the pie will have to wait.
“Mom, Dad,” I say, my voice catching slightly, “I need to tell you why I’m here.”
Silence hangs in the room as they look at me expectantly, and my heart races as I gather my nerves. “Jace and I... We have some serious issues we need to work through,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’m going to leave him.”
Mom gasps, and Dad’s eyes narrow as he reaches across the table to grip my hand.
“What happened? Did you two have a fight?” he asks.
I think back to the note I scribbled on a yellow legal pad and left on Jace’s nightstand in my flee to get out of Dallas.
Jace,
I know about you and Monica. I’ll be staying with my parents in Sugar Plum while I figure things out, and Sarah will be managing my clients in my absence. She can fill you in on the rest. Please don’t contact me. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.
Rose
“Not... exactly,” I say. “He—.” My eyes fall to the table as I fight a surge of tears. “Jace had an affair. I found out this morning, and I… I left him a note.”
“Oh, Rose! A note? That doesn’t sound like you at all.“ Mom’s eyes are now wide with concern.
“I know. I just... I couldn’t face him. Not yet. I need time to figure out what I want to do next.”
“You’ve always been a strong woman, Rose. Your mother and I are here for you, and we’ll support you no matter what you decide.” Dad squeezes my hand as Mom fills my plate with savory pot roast and a heap of mashed potatoes I know I’ll hardly touch if I want to save room for dessert.
The conversation shifts to lighter topics as we eat. Dad talks about the orchard business, and Mom tells me about her latest quilting project before dishing up a slice of flaky apple pie with a heaping scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream.
Much to my relief, my belly is full when I retire to my old room for the night, and sleep comes easy.
In my dream, I find myself standing at the edge of the apple orchard as a strong wind rustles the leaves. The sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly picked apples engulfs me, and the sky above is painted in hues of pink and orange as if nature itself is rejoicing at my return to Sugar Plum.
I walk deeper into the orchard and notice a figure in the distance. It’s a man—tall and ruggedly handsome with familiar eyes. He’s wearing faded jeans and a worn-out flannel shirt that fits him perfectly. The closer I get, the faster my heart beats, as if it recognizes him from somewhere deep within my soul.
“Rose,” he whispers.