Page 29 of Love's a Script
“My bad,” he said. “I’ll be more aware of the word count going forward.”
“No, don’t worry about it. As I said, you’re the only one who does it, so I have time to read your op-eds.”
Mary returned her focus to the show, thinking they’d come to a natural conclusion on the topic, but then Ruben asked, “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“If you came to you for matchmaking, what category would you fall under?”
She shifted in place, uncomfortable with the sudden focus. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s hard to self-assess accurately. I need distance.”
“Okay, how about you from a decade ago?”
She paused. It was an intriguing exercise, and scrutinizing the old her came easy. “I’d definitely categorize nineteen- or twenty-year-old Mary as a chameleon. She was someone who tweaked her interests, her personality, and even her sleep schedule to better suit whoever she was with. In matchmaking, that type of client can be difficult because they don’t quite know what they want but also seem content with anything. It’s hard to narrow down and filter out candidates for them.”
Becoming a matchmaker had been an eye-opener. It had changed how Mary viewed romance because she had the honor of witnessing great loves and true loves. Suddenly a boyfriend who, for instance, didn’t know her last name was Neilson and not Nelson after a year of dating wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
Ruben’s persistent gaze brought Mary to the present. He was studying her like he was seeing her for the first time. She’d said too much. Gotten a little too real.
“I hope you don’t think my past personal shortcomings affect my competency as a matchmaker,” she said.
“No, not at all,” he replied. “It makes you more human and less like some omniscient deity flinging heart-shaped arrows at people.”
She laughed stiltedly. “Okay, good. Just making sure.”
They turned their attention back to the TV program, but Mary continued to feel the raw singe of exposure even after the room went dark for the night.
Chapter Sixteen
On the second morning under the shelter-in-place advisory, Ruben was awakened by the sunlight slipping past a gap in the curtains. It softly defined everything in the hotel room, including Mary.
He smiled upon seeing her. The invariably elegant and put together Mary was not a graceful sleeper. Her limbs were sprawled out like branches. The thin top sheet was tangled around her waist, and the scarf that had been covering her head had vanished.
Before last night, he thought he understood Mary, but learning she didn’t always show up as the bold, incisive force she was with him piqued his natural curiosity. It made him want to lean in and discover more fascinating complexities. As he continued to consider her, a stray desire rose to reach across the cavern that separated their beds and sweep the mussed hair from her pretty face. It was a jarring thought that drove Ruben out of bed and quickly into the bathroom with his toiletries. The last thing he needed while rooming with Mary was to entertain any ideas that could alter his general regard for her into something specific and potent.
He stepped into the shower before the running water had a chance to warm up and doused the yearning from his body. Mary couldn’t ever suspect this attraction. It would mess with their congenial relationship, turn it awkward, and more importantly, it could affect how she did her job as his matchmaker moving forward.
After dressing and double-checking that he’d not left even a speck of toothpaste in the sink, he emerged from the washroom with his thoughts fairly sorted out. Mary was awake by then, sitting in bed watching the news. The anchor was numerating the damages from the last twenty-four hours and forecasting another harsh day.
“Morning,” he said, avoiding direct eye contact.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice husky from sleep.
The sultry sound set off a gentle quake across his chest as if it had been murmured directly against him.
“I’ll give you some space,” he said, quickly straightening the duvet on his bed. He needed to get out of there. “Do you want me to save you anything from the buffet?”
“No, it’s all right. I won’t be coming down for breakfast.”
Ruben paused and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked. She was propped up against her headboard with the top sheet tucked under her arms. Besides the faint lines marking her face from where she’d lain on her pillow, she appeared herself.
“The bride from the wedding I attended this weekend misplaced her engagement ring, so I’m going to help look for it.”
“Do they need extra hands?” he asked.
“No, it should be fine. It’s me, plus her entire wedding party.”
“All right,” he said. “Find me if things change.”
