Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Matteo
The magic doesn’t leave me alone.
A few days later, I’m woken up by a newspaper to the face, that lovely old chestnut. I opened my eyes just in time to watch it disappear in its familiar way.
I wonder if Iris is getting woken up the same way, and I chuckle to myself, imagining her yelling at the air, rubbing her forehead.
Soon, I think. Soon it will all be out of my life for good.
Later that day, after my post lunch-service break, I’m headed back to work when I see Winnie in the lobby of The Serendipity. She’s with a lanky, bald man wearing a brightly patterned sweater vest and holding his coat.
At the sight of me, Winnie throws up her arms and calls out my name. It catches me off-guard. I’m used to staying relatively invisible in our building.
Usually, the newspapers allow me to stay behind the scenes. Most of the people don’t even know I’ve helped them at all.
That’s how I prefer it.
With Winnie, that wasn’t possible, and now every time I see her, this is what I’m in for. Small talk. I force myself to be kind. To remember that I like Winnie.
There’s no harm in letting myself like someone new.
That thought brings an image of Iris to my mind.
“I want you to meet my new friend, Jerry .” Winnie says his name like she’s showing a picture of her grandson who just got the lead in the school play. “Iris introduced us. We’re going square dancing!” She looks at the old man, who smiles wide, deepening the lines around his eyes.
He reaches a hand toward me, and I shake it. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Jerry laughs. “Oh, heck, you can call me Jerry. We’re not formal around here.” He looks at Winnie, and I see it, the spark I’ve come to recognize after years of bringing people together. Because while they didn’t always see me, I usually stick around to make sure the meet-up actually happens.
Like the other couples, Winnie and Jerry will take it from here, and I have a comforting, almost gleeful thought.
Iris did great. This will be the end of my magical matchmaking.
But then Jerry says, “Winnie says you make the most amazing Italian food. We’re going to come to your restaurant tonight after we dance.”
“Great,” I say. “I’ll make you whatever you want.”
“And you’ll join us?” Winnie asks. “I hope that’s not too presumptuous of me to ask.”
“I’ll be working, so I won’t be able to,” I say. “But I promise—we’ll take good care of you.”
“Then I’ll make you and Iris a meal to thank you for finding me a dance partner.” She smiles, and at that moment, as if summoned by the universe, Iris walks in from outside. When she sees us standing there, she stops.
“What’s up, guys?” she says, caution in her voice.
My body tenses at the sight of her, and I remind myself of the goal here—to share what I know about the magic so it fully transfers over to her and I can go on about my business.
By myself.
The sooner, the better.
“I was just telling Matteo that I’m going to cook a meal for you two,” Winnie says, a smile taking up a good portion of her face. “I’ll be in touch with details, but we’re going to an early class, so we have to go.”
“Sounds great!” Iris frowns at me as they pass by her and walk out the front door and onto the street, leaving us standing in the lobby alone.
“Well, they’re cute,” Iris finally says. She smiles. “We made that happen.”
My disinterested expression holds.
“Oh, come on, Chef Crabby Patty, you can’t tell me you’re not a little bit happy to have found Winnie someone to hang out with and possibly given her a second chance at love,” she says.
I stop and stare. Did she just call me Chef Crabby Patty?
“It’s sweet, right? We made a real difference in her life.”
When I don’t respond, she starts fidgeting. Probably because I’m just standing here, mute.
She shoves her hands in her pockets. “What happens now?”
I shrug. “Now, they do whatever they’re going to do, and I go back to my life.”
“So, that’s it?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t ever, I don’t know . . . keep in touch with the people you’ve matched? I mean, you’re basically Cupid, and it seems like they’d want to keep you around? The sentimental ones, anyway.”
I start toward the door, and this time, I’m not surprised when she follows me. “No, I don’t keep in touch with them, and no, I’m not Cupid. Usually I can arrange the meetings without being seen.”
She suddenly laughs out loud.
I give her a confused look. “What?”
“I just thought it would be a hilarious movie if someone made Cupid totally against type. You think he’s this round little cherub guy, diaper and a bow and arrow, but instead he’s a hot chef who can’t stand people and just wants to be left alone.”
My bland expression holds.
“An anonymous, grumpy, very talented matchmaking chef. Obviously his last name would be Cupid.” She stops and holds out her hands like she just had a huge eureka moment.
She slowly turns to me.
“ Chef. CUPID. ” She points at me, grinning and enjoying herself way too much.
I shake my head. “You’re not calling me that.”
“Chef Cupid! It’s too perfect! Can’t you see that as the title of a movie?!”
I ignore her and walk outside.
She follows. “So, C.C., how does that work?” she says with a lilt in her voice.
I cock my head at her.
“Okay, okay, fine,” she surrenders. “I’ll only use it in dire emergencies.”
I take a breath and try not to be amused. It’s getting harder to hide my smile around Iris. It’s been a while since someone made me laugh, but her ability to amuse herself is contagious.
“Usually, I’m just the guy who initiates the meeting.”
“The meet-cute,” she says.
I glance at her. “The what?”
“The meet-cute. Good grief, how do you not know this?”
“Is that a real question? ”
She ignores me. “In romance, they’re called meet-cutes. The first cute meeting between two people.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “You’re the meet-cute guy.”
I roll my eyes.
“It actually makes sense that the magic chose you,” she comments, almost as an aside.
“Why?”
She looks at me like I should know. “You’re a chef. An amazing one, to be fair. What better way to bring people together than over food? That’s like the whole point of food in the first place.”
In all the three years of doing this, that has never once occurred to me.
Huh. Maybe she’s right.
“Speaking of, you will come when Winnie invites us to dinner, right?” she asks.
“Sure,” I say. “But after that . . .” I shrug. “She’ll move on. I’ll move on. That’s the way this works.”
Her forehead crinkles. “I don’t know if that’s true.”
“Oh, really? You don’t know if that’s true?” I say in a repeated scoff. “In the seven days since you found out about the magic, you’ve figured that out?”
“I’m just saying—I don’t want that to be it.” She jogs to keep up with me.
“Are you going to barge into my kitchen again?” I ask, fully expecting her to realize I’m going to work.
“If you’re lucky,” she jokes as she falls into step beside me.
A pause.
“I want to see Winnie again. I like her. And think about what we did for her. I mean, she was so lonely, and now she has Jerry. And a cat. And us. Also, it’s kind of nice to have people to say ‘hi’ to in the lobby.”
I glance over and find her struggling to keep up with me. I have no idea why I’m walking so fast. I slow down, not so drastically that she’ll notice, but enough so she can stop half-jogging.
She goes on. “I’m trying to figure out what to do now. I mean, do I just pretend this never happened? Wait for the next newspaper? You said it could be months, but I want one now. Now that I know I’m not hallucinating, I think this is kind of fun.”
I stop walking and face her. “This isn’t fun, Iris. It’s disruptive and annoying, and yeah, maybe you give some old lady a cat and maybe you help two people meet, but it gets in the way. Of everything.”
She frowns. “Right, but I actually like people, so to me, this isn’t a chore.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets and shake my head. She really doesn’t get it.
“What about when you have to help someone during your regular work hours? Or in the middle of the night? What about when ‘helping someone’ requires you to put yourself out there in ways you don’t want to—and it’s awkward and uncomfortable?”
She seems unbothered. “I think it will be worth it.”
I laugh and look away. “You’re so na?ve.”
My insult lands. She looks away.
I instantly want to take it back.
“I like the idea of magic.” She shrugs. “I like knowing it exists.” And then a little more quietly, she adds, “For other people, anyway. It’s nice.”
There’s something in the way she says it that makes me curious. And as a general rule, I don’t get curious.
She pulls a pair of gloves out of her pocket and stretches them on. “Winnie is a good person, so if we can help find her other good people to spend time with, I think that’s kind of great.” She eyes me for a long moment. “Maybe that’s why I’m here. Maybe I’m supposed to find people for you to spend time with.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say probably not,” I say.
She stops. “Did you ever stop to think how cool it is that you get to be a part of so many people’s stories? Of helping so many people find happiness?”
I don’t respond. Because what am I supposed to say? That helping other people find happiness leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when this kind of happiness is the last thing in the world I want to find?
“You’re so closed off,” she says. “No wonder you need my help with this.”
I scoff and start walking again. “I don’t need anyone’s help. What I need is for someone else to be responsible for this junk.”
She follows me. This time, I don’t slow my pace. “Well, apparently, the building thinks you do. Maybe it wants to make sure that the person playing Cupid actually cares about who he’s helping.”
“I will gladly hand you my bow and arrow and let you take over,” I say. “It’s not like I asked for it in the first place.”
“You really can’t see how cool this is, can you?” she asks.
“I really can’t. Because it’s not .” We’ve reached the restaurant, and I put my hand on the door as I stop walking. “But the sooner I share everything I know with you, then hopefully , the sooner I can be free of it.”
She cocks her head, studying me. “Is it because you don’t believe in soulmates? Or romance or whatever?” she asks.
“That sounds like a personal question,” I say. “And those are off limits.”
“Right.”
I walk inside the restaurant and, like a lot of things I don’t want to face right now, leave her on the other side of a closed door.