Page 16 of Falling for My Matchmaker

He waved that away. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

I took a sip of my wine. It was excellent. Matchbox really didn’t skimp on low-success-rate clients.

“So, how did you end up with Matchbox?” I asked.

“Well...” Ben took a sip of wine. “I’ve been seeing someone since we split. Nothing serious, but...you know. Light.”

I nodded politely, pretending not to hear the faintcrackin my own emotional dam.

“She was great,” he added, “until she started accusing me of stealing.”

That got my attention. “What?”

Ben laughed—actually laughed, like it was funny. “Yeah. Said her grandmother’s necklace went missing. Insisted I took it. Total paranoia. Classic attachment anxiety.”

I blinked. “Wait, are you saying...shedidn’tfind it?”

“Nope. Just vanished.” He took a bite of risotto. “I told her to check under the couch cushions. She dumped me.”

I stared.

Something started churning in the back of my brain.

Not paranoia.

Not jealousy.

Just...static. A buzz of memory.

“You know,” I said slowly, “that’s weird. Because when we broke up...I couldn’t find that silver locket I used to wear. The one from my aunt.”

He looked up, still chewing. “Huh.”

“You said I probably lost it.”

“You probably did.”

I frowned.

Then it happened.

Ben shifted in his seat to reach for his phone, and I caught a flash of something metallic tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Silver. Curved. Ornate.

It caught the light just enough to make my stomach turn.

I leaned forward slightly. “What’s that? In your pocket.”

Ben blinked. “What?”

“Your jacket. I just saw something. Did you...put something in there?”

He glanced down then back up, too quickly. “No?”

I stared. “Ben.”

He gave a laugh, light and a little forced. “Okay, relax. It’s just—God, I don’t know—maybe a napkin or something.”

---