Page 22 of Miss Matched

Sometimes I wonder how these two are even friends.

Me: Not an option, he’s a client now. I’m not adding fuel to that dumpster fire.

Luce: Noted. Then what’s the issue?

What is the issue?

It’s not like Zac is my first client. I’ve dealt with difficult, sexy, untamable. The kind of men women trip over themselves to get to. Brilliant, locally famous, charming. And I’ve been propositioned by more than a few of them. But none wind me up the way Zac does. That tight coil in my chest is begging to spring loose.

He feels a lot like Pandora’s box. One peek threatens to swallow me whole. And here I am, fingers on the clasp, ready to enjoy it.

Monica: Earth to Kennedy…

Me: Sorry, I’m just getting in my head. I’ve never dealt with someone as high profile as Zac. What if I mess this up?

Monica: You’ve got this. Do you know what helps me when I get nervous?

Luce: Picturing them naked?

Monica: No.

Monica: Affirmations. 5 deep breaths in the mirror, then say: I am worthy. I am strong. I am a badass woman who can do anything.

I roll my eyes.

Monica: Trust me, it works.

Luce: Oh, Mon…

Me: I think I’ll just picture him naked…

Luce: Good girl.

Monica: I give up.

They’re right about one thing: I need to stop acting like a scared little girl and get out there and do my job.

When faced with the mountain, Sisyphus pushed the boulder up, knowing that even if it drove him mad, it was punishment for his own decisions. I said yes to Zac, so I’ve got no choice but to be the best damn cupid a guy could ask for.

Turning to leave, my confidence rushes back. I harness that energy and let it wash over me, knowing I’ve done this a hundred times, and I’ll go out there and do it again.

I step forward and—

Ouch!

Slam my knee into the fucking counter.

Wonderful.

“Everything okay in there?” Zac’s concerned voice comes through the door.

“Fine,” I say, rubbing my knee through the pain. “Everything’s fine.”

Just channeling my inner boss bitch, don’t mind me.

Tight spaces have never bothered me, but as the elevator blinks at each passing floor, the walls seem to tighten. Zac’s building didn’t look this tall from the outside. But now, watching the city get smaller through the glass as I scale up the side of it, anxiety is kicking in.

It’s not unusual for me to meet clients at their homes or offices. They hire me when it’s inconvenient for them to take the time to find themselves love, so it’s to be expected that they can’t set aside work or their daily lives long enough to get a status update from their matchmaker. But even if this is normal for my job, it’s somehow never felt more intimate.

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