14. The Matchmakers Match.com
14
THE MATCHMAKER'S MATCH.COM
Heart & Soul Connections, Seattle, WA
ROSALIND
Eleven days until Valentine's Day, and Seattle's record-breaking snowstorm has turned the city into some sort of romantic comedy backdrop. The kind where everything looks magical until you actually have to live in it.
I've been staring at the cream-colored envelope in my hands for approximately fifteen minutes, letting my morning coffee go cold while reading the gold-embossed text over and over:
Together with their families
Joel Franklin and Samantha Carpenter
Request the honor of your presence...
"That's either a murder confession or a wedding invitation," Dani observes, appearing in my office doorway like a strawberry-blonde popup book from Hell. "Given your expression, I'm betting on the latter."
"What gave it away?" I set the invitation aside, trying to ignore how the expensive paper somehow manages to look smug. "The full-body cringe or the cold coffee? "
"The fact that you're wearing your emotional support cardigan again." She gestures to my well-worn blue sweater. "Plus, William trauma-baked three trays of 'heartbreak cannoli' this morning after seeing the mailman deliver it."
"It's not heartbreak," I protest. "It's just..." I wave at the invitation. "Inefficient."
"Inefficient?"
"I'm forty-one years old, running a matchmaking service that's being slowly replaced by apps, and my ex-husband is marrying my cousin." I grab my coat. "Meanwhile, I'm fake-dating a tech billionaire who creates algorithms about desk stability."
"Speaking of your favorite robot..." Dani scrolls through her phone. "The Thursday Night Singles group is very excited about having him speak tonight. Apparently, the promise of 'Seattle's Most Eligible Tech Bachelor Explains Love Through Data' is quite the draw."
I freeze halfway into my coat. "That's tonight?"
"Along with Marvin the Magnificent's first performance as my new suitor." She sighs dreamily. "He's a street magician who exclusively refers to himself in the third person. Very mysterious."
"Of course he is." I check my watch. Six hours until I have to introduce Grayson to my group. Six hours to prepare for whatever chaos ensues when Seattle's most logical bachelor meets Heart & Soul's most emotional clients. “Dani, do you think it’s a good idea to bring another one of your dates to Thursday Night group?”
“Of course I do!” Her doe-like eyes pull down at the corners. “Don’t you? I mean, isn’t that what Heart & Soul is all about? Finding love?”
Guilt tugs at my guess. “I guess you’re right. It is. I’m sorry.”
"Marvin the Magnificent predicts great success!" a voice announces from somewhere above us. We look up to find a man in a sparkly cape hanging upside-down from what appears to be invisible wires.
A white dove materializes out of nowhere, landing on my desk with what I swear is a judgmental expression.
"Marvin the Magnificent apologizes for the early entrance," the magician continues, still dangling. "Marvin the Magnificent's timing was slightly off."
"You don't say," I mutter, just as the wires give way.
The next six hours pass in a blur of wedding invitation-induced anxiety and impromptu magic tricks. By the time our Thursday Night Singles group assembles, the back room at La Famiglia looks like a dove sanctuary and Marvin the Magnificent has somehow made three different pieces of furniture "temporarily" disappear.
"Remember," I tell Dani as we set up chairs, "no spontaneous illusions during the meeting."
"Marvin the Magnificent makes no promises!" her cape-wearing suitor declares, materializing between us. "Magic, like love, cannot be constrained by mere schedules!"
A dove appears in my coffee cup.
"Sorry I'm late." Grayson's voice carries from the doorway, and my heart forgets how to beat right for a second. "CORA had some thoughts about presentation strategies for discussing relationship algorithms with—" He stops, taking in the scene. "Why is there a bird in your coffee?"
"Marvin the Magnificent works in mysterious ways!" the magician announces, disappearing in a puff of smoke that sets off our fire alarms.
Grayson raises one perfect eyebrow. "I see your HR challenges haven't improved."
"Says the man whose AI tries to calculate coat closet compatibility metrics."
His mouth does that almost-smile thing that absolutely doesn't make my pulse jump. "Speaking of metrics..." He moves closer, voice dropping. "I've been analyzing some interesting patterns in our recent interactions?—"
"Places, everyone!" Dani interrupts, herding our group members to their seats. "Time for Seattle's most logical bachelor to explain why love is basically just math!"
The next hour is... interesting.
"Statistically speaking," Grayson tells our rapt audience, "compatibility can be quantified through careful analysis of key variables including but not limited to shared interests, communication patterns, and?—"
"Marvin the Magnificent respectfully disagrees!" A puff of smoke reveals Dani's suitor perched on top of a corner coffee table. "True love is like Marvin the Magnificent's favorite illusion: impossible to explain, beautiful to behold!"
Three doves materialize, forming a heart shape before scattering papers everywhere.
"Actually," Grayson continues smoothly, "behavioral patterns suggest that successful relationships follow predictable?—"
"Behold!" Marvin produces a bouquet from thin air. "Like these flowers, love blooms unexpectedly!"
"According to my latest algorithm?—"
"According to Marvin the Magnificent's heart?—"
"Oh my God," I mutter to Dani. "It's like watching a Hallmark movie fight a spreadsheet."
She sighs happily. "Isn't it romantic?"
The evening devolves from there. Every time Grayson tries to explain his systematic approach to finding love, Marvin the Magnificent appears in increasingly improbable places to offer mystical counterpoints. By the time we reach the Q&A portion, we've gained approximately twelve doves and lost three chairs to "temporary" vanishing acts .
"Perhaps a demonstration?" one of our regulars suggests. "Show us how your different approaches work in practice?"
"Marvin the Magnificent volunteers as test subject!"
"Actually," another member pipes up, "we were thinking more like... you two." She points between me and Grayson. "You know, since you're already dating..."
The room goes quiet except for the soft cooing of doves and what sounds suspiciously like Marvin attempting to sawing my desk in half.
"That's not—" I start.
"A terrible idea," Grayson finishes, and something in his voice makes me look up. He's watching me with an expression that can’t possibly be in our contract. "After all, we're a perfect example of how different approaches can... complement each other."
"Complement?" I echo. "Is that what you call our coat closet compatibility testing?"
The skin near his collar reddens, but his voice stays steady. "I was thinking more about statistical anomalies in heart rate variability when?—"
"Marvin the Magnificent senses unresolved tension!" A shower of rose petals falls from nowhere. "Like Marvin the Magnificent's signature dove trick, love cannot be contained by mere logic!"
"Actually," Grayson counters, moving closer to me, "recent data suggests that certain chemical reactions between individuals can create measurable patterns of attraction that?—"
"What my fake boyfriend is trying to say," I cut in, "is that sometimes the most logical thing is admitting that not everything can be calculated."
The room goes silent again. Even the doves stop cooing.
"Fake boyfriend?" someone whispers.
Oops.
"What she means," Grayson cuts in, his deep voice booming over the space, "is that our relationship defies traditional metrics. Much like..." He glances at our magical friend. "Much like Marvin the Magnificent's abilities defy explanation."
"Marvin the Magnificent is touched by the comparison!"
More rose petals. More doves. Possibly a rabbit.
"And on that note," I announce, "I think we'll wrap up for tonight. Thank you all for coming, and please watch your step around the... birds."
As our group filters out, dodging spontaneous card tricks and random acts of levitation, Grayson lingers.
"So," he says once we're alone (except for Marvin, who's attempting to teach a dove to play chess in the corner). "That was..."
"A statistical anomaly?"
"I was going to say 'interesting.'" He helps me gather scattered papers, careful to avoid the dove still paddling in my coffee. "Though speaking of statistics..."
"Please tell me you haven't created an algorithm to explain tonight."
"No." He pauses. "But I did want to ask... My mother and sister have been not-so-subtly hinting about having you over for dinner."
I freeze halfway through rescuing a chair from wherever Marvin made it "temporarily" relocate to.
"Dinner?"
“Tomorrow,” he clarifies. "Very casual. Though my AI might try to amend the menu based on your preferred flavor profiles..."
"Marvin the Magnificent thinks this sounds most romantic!" Our resident magician appears between us in a puff of glitter. "Like Marvin the Magnificent's love for Dani, family connections cannot be quantified!"
"Yes, thank you, Marvin," Grayson says with surprising patience. "Maybe you could help Dani with those chairs that keep mysteriously vanishing?"
Once we're alone again (probably—with Marvin, it's hard to tell), he turns back to me.
"You don't have to?—"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Yes, I'll come to dinner." I smooth my cardigan. “That would be very professional of me, right?"
"Extremely logical," he agrees, but his smile—slightly crooked and sexy as hell—suggests otherwise.
Through the windows, Seattle's snow continues to fall, each snowflake adding to the sheet of white that’s slowly growing.
In some ways, it’s like a blank slate. And heaven knows I could use one right now.
"Marvin the Magnificent bids you goodnight!" Our magical friend appears one last time, somehow hanging upside down from my ceiling. "May your hearts, like Marvin the Magnificent's doves, soar free!"
He disappears in a final puff of smoke, leaving behind more rose petals, at least two rabbits, and what appears to be a card predicting our future together.
"Well," Grayson says after a moment, "that was..."
"Please don't say 'statistically improbable.'"
"I was going to say 'perfect.'" He reaches out, brushing rose petals from my hair with a gentleness that makes my chest tight. "Just like your timing with that 'fake boyfriend' comment."
"Very unprofessional of me."
"Completely inefficient," he agrees, but he's still touching my hair, and suddenly the space between us feels charged, dense with all the things passing between us that neither of us can quantify.
A dove lands on his shoulder, cooing what sounds suspiciously like "Can't Help Falling in Love. "
"Marvin the Magnificent regrets nothing!" echoes from somewhere in the ventilation system.
As Grayson finally grabs his coat and says goodbye, I try not think about the wedding invitation still sitting on my desk. Or the man who's supposedly just pretending to date me.
And why the thoughts about the latter make the former start to seem so small.