Page 9 of Forbidden Match

Chapter 4

Molly

I sneak out of the house the next morning, dressed in my waitress uniform in case anyone’s already up and about.

My stomach is tied in knots. It seems ridiculous; I should be able to do what I want, but this my life. I don’t want a war or for Sam to raise such a fuss he gets our parents involved so that they one or the other has to put their foot down.

I nearly go into shock when I see my mom’s out in the front yard, holding her coffee cup close to her face to keep warm.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, surprised to see her just standing there in her bathrobe and slippers.

“Everything’s fine, just wanted to watch the sun come up over the rooftops.”

The sun has been up for an hour, but she’s not shivering from the early morning chill, so I figure she doesn’t want to tell me what’s really on her mind. Not to mention I want to get on the road to the retreat. She sees my uniform and says she thought I worked the lunch and dinner shift on Saturdays. Which I do, except I asked for this weekend off the second I knew I won the contest.

“I’m filling in for someone,” I say to cover my ass. “Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?”

She looks at me for a long moment. “Well, I got a peek at what your father got me for Valentine’s Day and it made me a little …”

“That bad?” I say.

He got her a shop vac last year. He adores all of us, but is horrible at giving gifts.

She shakes her head, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Actually, it’s amazing. It’s an album with pictures of all the dates we went on before we got married. I think he took some kind of online class, because it’s well done. And on the last page, it’s our wedding picture and then one of both you kids. And just the sweetest note.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

I cut her off with a sudden hug. Stomach knots and pounding heart aside,thisis what I want.Thisis why I’m sneaking away. I want real, true, honest love that lasts forever. Something that’s shared, not one-sided.

“He’s getting better, Mom. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“I know, honey. Now you get to work. I don’t want to make you late.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask why I have an overnight bag and I don’t have to lie about going to the gym after work. I take a few steadying breaths and soon I’m heading down the highway toward the resort, full of hope.

After an hour’s drive, my GPS tells me I’m almost to my destination and the nerves kick in. When I turn down the lane leading to the fantastical, three-story mansion that’s been converted to a swanky hotel.

I almost chicken out and take the circular drive back out through the huge wrought-iron gates. Instead, I push through the nerves,reminding myself I’m no longer a shy wallflower and I’m miles away from my bossy brother.

And miles from Levi, which gives me a pang of sadness.

This is it. I’m really about to lay my secret crush to rest. I can do this.

The inside of the mansion is even nicer than the outside, with sparkling chandeliers, plush velvet couches, and so many potted plants that it feels like a botanical garden rather than a lobby. I slip into the nearest restroom and change out of my waitress uniform and into the sweater dress and boots I brought with me. I try to smooth my hair into a low bun and secure it with a gold barrette, then refresh my lipstick.

This is it. Go time.

There’s a welcome desk where I show my ticket and get my information packet. The woman tells me not to open it until later, and then to go inside the banquet room where the other lucky singles are waiting to be matched. It’s like Cupid exploded in there, with red and silver table covers, huge crystal centerpieces, and garlands of roses with silver hearts. It’s just shy of being tacky so it stays dreamy and beautiful.

I sidle up to a couple of other women who are already sipping frothy drinks. I accept a glass of sparkling pink lemonade from a passing server as the women and I break out into nervous giggles when a group of stunningly handsome men pass by.

“We’re not supposed to talk to each other until we’re matched,” one of the girls whispers, staring at a burly, dark-haired man in a gray suit as if he’s a piece of chocolate cake and she’s been avoiding sugar for a month.

I look over the men, wondering who will be my match, but I feel oddly empty when none of them really do anything for me. They’re all look amazing, with their flirtatious smiles and knowing looks, smiling, but none of them are …

Stop it. Stop thinking about what you can’t have.

Before I can get too upset with myself for continuing to linger on Levi, an announcer calls out that it’s time for Madame Amour to match us up.

The lights dim and we lapse into a tense silence, when suddenly, a hologram of a woman in a long white gown and a crown perched on her cascading silver hair appears in the middle of the room. A few of us step back as if we might actually step on the hem of her flowing dress and she turns, making eye contact with each of us as if she’s really there. Is she? I get lost in the magic of it all and my heart starts to pound.

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