After her practice date with Deacon, Macy’s intuition kept telling her: You and Deacon are a match. You and Deacon are a match!
She’d always trusted her gut before. Why not? She was sure Cupid was one of her ancestors. Matchmaking ran in her blood. She had proof she was good at it. And dinner at FIG had been … magical. She had no other word. They’d conversed so easily about things big and little. Everything seemed right. And the whole time, she’d wanted to kiss him badly. How could she not? After their searing kiss of the night before?
It was a shock how natural and fun it felt, that pomegranate martini kiss. And then there was the innocent, perfect kiss at her door. She remembered feeling that everything was out of her hands. It was as if she were simply watching as this powerful thing—whatever it was—bloomed between her and Deacon while the inky night sky sparkled with stars above their heads.
She tossed and turned in bed that night. Why couldn’t she sleep?
Was Deacon her soulmate?
She turned on her bedside lamp. It was two a.m. Staring at the signet ring on her hand, she decided she’d check with the algorithms in the morning. She didn’t have all of Deacon’s data. But she’d been around him long enough to make some good guesses. She’d get Ella and Greer involved. They’d all played with the algorithms before to test out friends, family, and even celebrity couples.
Finally, she slept. But at nine o’clock the next morning, she was huddled with Ella and Greer around the desktop computer in Greer’s office. The screen darkened, then brightened. Colors, numbers, and a block of text popped up.
“No, no, no,” said Macy, her heart pounding.
“You were right,” Greer said, and squeezed Macy’s arm. “You’re a match.”
Macy closed her eyes. “I’m not ready for a match—for so many reasons.”
“Look,” said Ella.
Reluctantly, Macy opened her eyes. Ella pointed at the screen. “Not only are you a match, you two got the gold star.”
A gold star meant that there was a high likelihood that the couple in question would make a commitment to each other within the year.
“No,” said Macy. “He’s my client, first of all. I’m not supposed to date my clients! And he’s from New York. He’s going back soon. Did I mention we have very little in common? Can you imagine a guy who attends every Yankee home game at a Southern debutante ball? And here’s the real kicker—he doesn’t even believe in love! He wants a fling. A Christmas fling.”
She sat in Greer’s chair.
Greer blew out a breath. “All I know is that you need to stop acting like love is for other people and not for you too.”
“Yeah,” said Ella. “And so what if you start with a fling? It could be fun.”
“I like him, I admit it,” Macy confessed, a hitch in her voice. “A fling—I could probably use one.”
“Couldn’t we all!” Greer exclaimed.
Macy put her hand over her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay to be afraid,” Ella said.
“We’re here, always,” said Greer, “to back you up.”
“Thanks,” Macy whispered. “Maybe I’ll ignore whatever it is between us. Swipe left, like on Tinder.”
“You could,” said Ella. “You could be like two ships passing in the night. But I don’t want you to run away. Not if this is something real.”
“You need to work with him,” Greer reminded Macy. “But he’ll be gone in a few weeks.”
“Right.” Macy’s heart felt heavy.
“How can you set him up with other women now?” Ella asked.
“What’s done is done,” she said. “I’m a professional. I can’t very well call these women and say, ‘Sorry. He’s mine.’”
“I don’t see why not. They’re our personal friends,” said Greer. “Maybe you’re in love. The real deal. And if the feeling is mutual, you don’t need to worry about those other women being in the picture.”
“That’s right,” said Ella. “Let’s call them.”
Macy shook her head. “Let’s not. It can’t be love. Not this fast. I feel sure of that. We’ve barely even kissed. All told, under ten minutes of kissing time is not long enough to figure out such heady stuff.”
“Okay, so maybe we’re jumping the gun,” Ella admitted.
“Just never say never,” Greer added.
“Okay.” Macy felt a little better.
A beat of silence passed, and then there was a sharp knock at Greer’s office door. “Yoohoo! Y’all need to get back to work.” Miss Thing was always jealous when she was left out of conversations.
“Is something happening out there?” called Ella.
“No. But Oscar needs petting. And I’d like to show you my new shoes.”
The trio in Greer’s office exchanged amused glances.
“We’ll be out in a minute,” Macy called. “And I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
“Thank God,” said Miss Thing through the door. “You three are my girls! I must know all!”
Their little huddle broke up. Macy was back to being on her own. But at least she knew she was loved. And if she ever had a problem, she could come to her friends at Two Love Lane.