Page 2 of Perfectly Matching Again

“The shot itself wasn’t easy, but I hope it’s a match.” Sabine licked the tiny droplet of alcohol off her lip and almost sent Abby into a tailspin.

“Yes, that is quite a question there. Demeter and Erato? Why?”

Sabine played with her fingers, splayed on the bar top, and sighed before answering.

“I can’t say. In fact, I’m not certain of this one at all, Abby.”

“Then why?—”

“Because there was something there, something that is not logical, nor immediately obvious, not even reasonable. The Goddess of Harvest, the notorious recluse, temperamental, and finicky as hell, forgive me Hades, and the Muse of Erotica? The Muse who made it her career to bed as many mortals and immortals as possible? Demeter has been so discerning she might as well have been off limits for any and all cupids. And Erato? She has more arrow holes in her than a target sheet.”

Abby reached over and stole a sip from Sabine’s tumbler. No, she still couldn’t understand why her wife so often ordered it. And she couldn’t understand why her wife made the earlier choice she did either.

“So my question stands. Why?”

Sabine’s face was thoughtful as she spoke, a tiny furrow marring her impeccable brow.

“Because the best things make little sense, Abigail Angellini-Goddard. Because on paper, you and I made no sense at all. And yet you believed in us, even when I didn’t. You had faith in me. That I would reach for the courage and for the clarity to see what was right in front of me, darling. Because that is a precious gift, the trust to find oneself and not to lose that which made the connection special.”

Abby looked at Sabine’s beautiful face, the chiseled cheekbones and the full lips, the dark lashes framing perceptive, intelligent eyes. Yes, lucky indeed, so very very lucky… But the soul of this Cupid? Unmatched.

“See?” Sabine placed a kiss on the palm of Abby’s hand, making her shiver. “Even now, when this decision makes no sense to you, I can feel you trusting me.”

“I know you, Sabine. You are, above all, mine. That is fated. That is a given. And you, for some reason, believe that those two who looked like they had never been in the same room before, are fated as well. So it doesn’t matter what I see.”

Sabine polished off her drink and stood up, extending a hand to Abby.

“I don’t know, but they have a curious spark. I can’t explain it. More than sex, though they are probably burning the sheets right now and their chemistry is definitely off the charts. That was obvious, darling. But there was something else there. Something I can’t quite figure out. It’s in the way Erato, a total horn dog, held Demeter’s hand with no expectation of a quickie in the elevator. And the way Demeter, who has likely been untouched by her own design for centuries if not longer, leaned into that touch, not just accepting it but reveling in it.”

They walked hand in hand, nodding to an occasional Cupid mingling about.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Sabine. I just can’t?—”

“See it.” Sabine finished her thought as they came back to the now fateful elevator doors. “I can’t say I saw much, either. Still, sometimes being a Queen means I can take chances. And in love? Everything is a chance.” Sabine sighed. “There was something so bright, so earnest there. I had to push it along, so to speak. And if I was wrong, well, Maddison St. James will be crowned Queen of the Perfect Match tomorrow and I’ll have my first ever season when all the arrows I shot missed their mark.”

Abby shook her head. She’d have to believe that one when she saw it, even if she spotted nothing at all in Erato and Demeter. But Sabine never missed. Sabine noticed what was under a millennia of hurt, oblivion and pretenses and if anyone could identify a Perfect Match between two of the most unlikely beings, it would be her.

The next morning, as Abby cheered for Sabine, crowned yet again the Queen of the Perfect Match, she felt the weight of a look on herself. She turned slowly. In the very back of the immense convention room—among angry, outwitted Gods, ecstatic cupids, still drunk on Aphrodite’s speech—stood Demeter, her face devoid of any discernible expression. The Goddess’ golden eyes drifted away from Abby to where Erato was clapping steadily for Aphrodite and then to the massive score board where Sabine’s perfect match shone brightly. As Abby watched, Demeter narrowed her gaze at the blinking light before quietly leaving the room.

1

WHERE A MUSE (WHO IS DEVASTATINGLY GOOD LOOKING) IS FORCED INTO A CONFESSION

She was devastatingly good looking. Proof of her good looks were the veritable hordes of cupids, mortals and an occasional goddess left, well, devastated. Wrecked by her very own looks. By how good said looks were.

Erato flicked her golden hair out of her eyes, tugged on the lapels of the buttery smooth leather jacket and winked at herself in the mirror.

Even her reflection swooned.

She stopped just short of throwing finger guns at the poor mirror-Erato. She had her limits. And that would be the absolute overkill in attractiveness.

Somewhere to her left, a long-suffering sigh sounded particularly put off. Ah, Erato had quite forgotten that her best friend, former lover (in true queer tradition), and—for all intents and purposes—boss was still in the room.

Actually, come to think of it, it was Erato who was the one doing the lingering. After all, this was Aphrodite’s office. Good thing she had not shot those finger guns at the mirror. She’d have to do something drastic like throw herself headlong out of whatever floor this was.

“Dramatic. Way too dramatic even for you. Hell, Melpomene, the actual muse of Drama, would roll her eyes at you.”

Aphrodite’s voice was full of mockery. Erato huffed out a breath.

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