Page 62 of The Cupid Chronicles

He waves me off. “On the house.”

I freeze. “Whoa! You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t have eaten like a lion over a zebra carcass if I’d known you weren’t going to charge me!”

He actually laughs.

I actually like it.

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or as a reason to avoid you altogether,” he says.

I hang my bag back on the chair. “Eh. Maybe both.”

With all the food gone, I don’t know what to do with my hands. I fold them in my lap, not quite ready to leave. “So, are we partners now or what?”

He meets my eyes, confused. “No.”

I feel myself deflate.

“I’m just hoping that if I tell you what I know, maybe this magic is going to finally leave me alone and become someone else’s problem.”

“Right,” I say, acutely aware that that “someone” is me.

Chapter Eighteen

Matteo

The magic doesn’t leaveme 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 Isee her, this is what I’m in for. Small talk. I force myself to be kind. To remember that IlikeWinnie.

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.”

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