Shelly White sighed heavily as she stepped out of the cab and walked toward the entrance of Perfect Match, Inc. Usually, seeing Samantha Monteiro was an enjoyable experience—truth be told, this whole process, although entirely out of her comfort zone, had been really great. She had met some wonderful people, learned how to dance, and perhaps most importantly, she’d found out a few things about herself that had surprised her. That’s why this meeting with Samantha felt so hopeless. For all the highs she had felt since first walking through the doors of Samantha’s matchmaking company thirteen months ago, today was as low as she had ever been.
As she waited for the elevator to take her to the penthouse office space, she reminisced about how much had changed in the last year. When she’d first met Samantha and her business partner, Andrew Stanley, she was an entirely different person. She was nervous, insecure, and convinced she was a hopeless case. Some of that had changed, but then again, some of it was still the same.
“Samantha is just finishing a call, but she said you can head in and take a seat.” Samantha’s receptionist Sarah smiled encouragingly and motioned toward the slightly ajar door to Samantha’s office.
“Thanks, Sarah.”
Shelly knocked lightly and waved as Samantha looked up from her desk, a smile on her face as she spoke into the receiver. Shelly sat in the chair opposite her desk and did her best not to pout. This was the moment she had been dreading for the last two weeks.
“Mm-hmm, I have to go. Shelly’s here.” Samantha pulled the phone away from her mouth. “Lucinda says hi.”
“Are we still on for Tuesday?” Shelly asked, already knowing that they were, deliberately prolonging the time until Samantha’s entire attention was back on her.
“Tuesday at six thirty,” Samantha confirmed and turned slightly, her voice lowering a bit.
Shelly warmed at the genuine expression on Samantha’s face as she ended the call. Lucinda Moss was Shelly’s private dance instructor and Samantha’s fiancée. Somewhere over the course of the thirteen months Shelly and Samantha had been working together, Samantha had found her own perfect match in the beautiful and strong dance teacher she had introduced Shelly to in hopes of helping her find grace. That was what Samantha had first said when Shelly had balked at the idea of private dance lessons, but she had been right, sort of.
She looked out the window at the cumulus clouds, so close they almost looked like she could touch them. The view up here was spectacular, heavenly. The thought made her smile as she turned her attention to Samantha, who had walked to the front of her desk and looked at Shelly expectantly.
Heavenly. That was what she had first thought when she had met Samantha so many months ago, all dressed in white with large sunglasses obscuring her face. Samantha Monteiro was so attractive it was distracting. Her initial attraction to Samantha was what had given Shelly the confidence to utilize Samantha’s matchmaking services—even the prospect of finding a mate in the periphery of Samantha’s scale of beauty was appealing. She often wondered if that was how most of Samantha and Andrew’s clients were drawn to them: they were a well-oiled machine of perfectly tailored clothes and charm to match their good looks. But what kept Shelly invested in them and their vision was the amount of heart and sincerity they brought to every potential match. Samantha and Andrew were as effortlessly funny as they were optimistic in the pursuit of matchmaking. Samantha in particular had a way of making the impossible seem possible, and to her credit, she had done a pretty decent job of finding Shelly really compatible dates. Which was why even though Shelly had requested this meeting, she felt like she was in the principal’s office at the same time.
“Hey, Shel.” When she didn’t answer, a soft frown settled around Samantha’s perfect lips. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”
Shelly was amazed how Samantha defied the logic of physics with how gracefully she moved in that skintight fabric. It was almost superhuman how easily she perched at the edge of her desk, flawlessly graceful, nothing at all like Shelly. The thought made her own frown deepen. “I’m a mess.”
“Let’s start with Hello. How are you?”
“This is no time for pleasantries, Samantha. I’m a hopeless mess and it’s a lost cause and I’m sorry.”
Samantha stepped away from the desk and turned the neighboring chair toward Shelly. She sat down and reached out, taking Shelly’s hands in her own, and gently rubbed her thumbs along Shelly’s knuckles. “Let’s start at the beginning. What happened with Abby and Sasha?”
The warm contact soothed Shelly and she nodded, looking up from her lap. Four months ago Samantha had thrown a matchmaking mixer at Lucinda’s dance studio in hopes of finding Shelly that elusive perfect match. And for the first time in so many months, Shelly had finally felt like things were falling into place. She had truly enjoyed herself, feeling more comfortable in her own skin than she had in years. All the training she had done with Lucinda had made her confident in her ability to lead her dates around the dance floor, and the charm school she had completed with Samantha over the months prior had helped her to present a polished and complete Shelly package to the evening. But even with help, Shelly had managed to screw it up.
“Okay, first of all, Abby is great, really, she is. But I just feel like there wasn’t any spark there. Like she’d be a really great friend or book club buddy, but that’s it.”
Samantha nodded. “How many dates did you go on with her?”
Shelly shrugged. “Three?”
“Did you kiss her?”
Shelly felt the blush forming on her cheeks. “No.”
Samantha’s thumb stopped its gentle caress and she squeezed Shelly’s hand once briefly. “Why not?”
Shelly sighed. “I didn’t want to.”
“Well, that’s fair. Did she want to kiss you?”
A wave of guilt washed over Shelly. “Yeah, I think she did.”
“All right, well you both need to be on the same page—you weren’t. No big deal. How did you end it with her?”
Shelly allowed herself to be relieved by Samantha’s encouraging words for a moment before she shamefully admitted the next part. “I, um, texted her and told her I was too busy for another date.”
“And?”
“And then I stopped replying to her calls and texts.”
“Shelly.”
There was the tone she was afraid would make its appearance.
“I just—”
Samantha held up her hand and shook her head. “No. No way. We talked about this. These women are taking just as much of a risk putting themselves out there to try to find a match with you as you are with them. How would you feel if one of these girls just ghosted out of your life like that?”
“Probably like crap.” Shelly frowned.
“Right.” Samantha cocked her head to the side a little. “Abby is a sweet girl. She deserves better than a brush-off.”
“You’re right.”
Samantha smiled. “I usually am.” She shifted in the chair and crossed her legs as she leaned back, releasing Shelly’s hand. “Tell me about Sasha.”
Shelly let out another long sigh. The Sasha thing had kept her up at night. In fact, that was the primary reason she had asked to meet with Samantha today.
“I like Sasha, really I do. She’s flirtatious and attractive and funny.”
“Mm-hmm, female firefighters are hot.” Samantha looked off in the distance with a dreamy smile. “Go on.”
“That’s just it, she’s great.”
The look in Samantha’s eyes cleared as she blinked at Shelly. “But?”
“I can’t get past the firefighter part. Like, it’s too dangerous and time-consuming. Did you know that she has shifts that last up to two or three days at a time? And don’t even get me started on the injury risk. Do you have any idea of the statistical variation of life expectancy among firefighters in a city like Boston? The mean age alone is enough to stop you from lighting candles for the rest of your life…”
“Okay, slow down. How many dates did you go on?” Samantha redirected.
“Six.”
“That’s good. And how did they go?”
“Really well, actually. And before you ask, yes, we kissed.”
Samantha leaned forward and rubbed her hands together. “Ah, the good part. Tell me more about the kissing.”
Shelly laughed. “It was great, I mean, she’s a great kisser. Truly.” She paused for a moment before adding, “But she wears cherry lip gloss. And cherry flavor reminds me of Robitussin and being sick as a child. I get a little weird about cherry flavor.”
“Not important, Shel. She can swap out her lip gloss flavor.”
“What if it’s her favorite flavor ever, though?”
“Did you ask her that?”
“No.”
“Then it’s a moot point. Go on. Let’s talk about the kissing some more.”
Shelly nodded. “She kissed me at the end of the first date. That’s how I knew things with Abby weren’t going to work out, because I immediately felt that physical attraction to Sasha that was missing with Abby.”
Samantha looked at her expectantly.
“It was really good. Like the kind of kiss that makes you want more kissing, like all of the kissing. And we did some more of that on dates two through four. There was a good amount of kissing—you’d be proud of me.”
Samantha smiled. “Did you sleep together?”
“No.” Shelly knew she looked mortified. Even after all of these months in Samantha’s presence, she was still a little shy around her directness.
“Did you want to?” Samantha appeared undeterred by Shelly’s reaction.
“Truthfully? Yes. But then something happened between dates four and five that kind of put the brakes on that.”
“Feel free to elaborate.”
This was what had been bothering Shelly about Sasha. She felt conflicted about what had occurred, but mostly, she was conflicted about her own feelings and how easily she had shut down. “There was a bad fire—a three-story house on Hereford went up like a match and Sasha was injured.”
“Jesus.” Samantha looked alarmed, “Is she okay? I should call her.”
Shelly continued, “It wasn’t anything severe—a concussion, some bruising, a slight burn on her arm. But it was scary, Samantha. I was really starting to enjoy her company, really looking forward to it. But that was too much for me to handle. Something changed. I couldn’t deal with the idea of getting any closer to her if she would continually be in danger like that. What if something really bad happened?”
Samantha’s expression softened. “Shelly, I get that, I do, but we talked about this, too. You need to take risks and be vulnerable to everything life has to offer. Ending a relationship with Sasha because her job was too scary for you isn’t a good enough reason. It’s her job, not yours.”
“I know, I know. But it wasn’t just that. We had some other differences, too. Like I was really attracted to Sasha and her personality, but I never really felt entirely comfortable around her. And she’s allergic to cats. I can’t be with someone who can’t be around cats. Cats are the best. But the fire incident sort of solidified my feelings about the whole thing. She’s going on a training course out in Washington for a few weeks anyway, so it’s not like anything is going to happen romantically.”
Samantha seemed to consider this a moment before she stood and strode to the other side of her desk, sitting in her chair and powering up her laptop. She reached forward and grabbed a pen, pointing it at Shelly as she spoke. “All right. Let’s start fresh. Tell me what you liked best about Abby. Go.”
“What?”
“What was it about Abby that inspired you to ask her out on a formal date?”
“Oh. Well, she’s really pretty. And kind. She’s funny but not in an obnoxious way. I like the way she wears cardigans.”
Samantha looked up from the screen, abandoning her pen in favor of leaning her chin on her palm. “You like the way she wears…cardigans?”
“Is that a weird thing to say or something?” Shelly shifted uncomfortably.
“It’s just a very specific thing to say. Like you could have said that you like her outfits, or her style. But you explicitly mentioned the cardigans.” She made a note on the page in front of her.
“What are you writing down on that thing?” Shelly leaned forward, only to have her view obstructed by Samantha’s hand.
“Don’t worry. What are some of the things you didn’t like?” Samantha motioned for her to continue.
Shelly thought for a moment. “She didn’t ask me anything about what I do. Or she did, but it was very vague and when I tried to explain some of it a little further, she seemed to zone out. Like it was boring. That was a little frustrating. I want to be able to talk about the things that interest me, too. It helps me relax a bit.”
Samantha continued to jot down some notes. “How was she with you? Did she seem nervous? Or was she comfortable?”
“She seemed a little nervous. And that made me a little more nervous, I suppose. She was a little indecisive, too. I’m plenty indecisive—I don’t need any help in that department.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about Sasha again. What did you like about her?”
“She’s fun. I mean like charming and funny and hot. And bold. Like she was always in control of the situation. No matter where we went on a date, she was so self-assured, it was refreshing. She kissed me first, too. I didn’t have to think about it—I just had to react. The kissing was good. I liked that the best.”
Samantha underlined the word kissing on her notepad. “What didn’t vibe with you?”
“We couldn’t talk about current events or technology very much. She’s not much of a reader. She picked up some workout magazines and fitness stuff once in a while but she didn’t love books. She plays some video games with some of the other firefighters at her station, but really prefers to watch or work on her fantasy basketball roster. She was kind of a flirt—which I liked, but we kept running into her exes while we were out. And I really had a hard time with the demands and dangers of her work. We got by okay with all of the physical stuff, but I didn’t feel like there was any real growth opportunity there—I’m tired of physical relationships without any semblance of commitment.”
This was something that Samantha and Shelly discussed a lot. It wasn’t unusual for people to assume that Shelly was this shut-in, virgin type. That was far from the truth. She didn’t have any trouble finding a bedroom partner—she had trouble finding a life partner. When her father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s a little over a year ago, she realized that she’d been filling her time with short flings and not investing any of herself into the women that entered her life. She had told herself that she was too busy with the growing company and its success, but that had been a lie. She was worried about being vulnerable to another person, so she had closed off that part of herself. Her father’s diagnosis left her feeling very alone and wondering if she was destined to be like him someday: cantankerous, paranoid, and cold. When she saw the ad for Perfect Match on a mobile app while in the Uber on the ride home from her father’s the day of his diagnosis, she had made an appointment immediately. It had felt serendipitous. She wanted to change her love life, and she knew it had to start with her.
“Okay. Let’s compare this list to the wish list in your file.” Samantha turned the laptop to face Shelly and joined her on the other side of the desk. “I paired you with these two women because they both hit the major qualities that you had identified as important: funny, social, friendly, pretty, and centrally located to Boston. I ran them through a few personality tests and compared their results to yours—identifying complements to your fighting style and communication skills. All that got tossed into our Perfect Match algorithm software and a percentage of compatibility was calculated. Abby was more of an intellectual equal to you, whereas Sasha was a clear match to your physical requirements and your desire to be with someone more outgoing. Both women had a decent mix of personal and professional traits that you mentioned were important to you. And if we compare the list of things you just told me, I can conclude only one thing.”
Shelly looked at the flowcharts on the screen, skimming the abbreviations and pie charts as Samantha quickly flicked through the pages of her electronic file, opening up to a blank page. Shelly’s eyes focused on the blinking cursor and her brow scrunched in confusion. “What can you conclude? This is a blank page.”
“Precisely.” Samantha pointed to the screen. “These charts, these figures and calculations, they don’t mean much. We use them to help narrow down our resource pool. What really matters are the personal connections we make between people. The commonalities help to thin the herd, as it were, but the real successes in this business come from accepting that each match is unique and individual to the persons involved. No amount of data collection can do that—that has to come from you and the lucky lady waiting to meet you.”
“Okay. So what’s with the blank page?”
“The blank page is a fresh start. You are not the same woman who came through these doors a year ago. You are now able to identify your desires, frustrations, and concerns in an organized and clear manner. What you were looking for when we ran all these calculations is not what you are asking for right now. This Shelly”—Samantha motioned up and down Shelly’s form—“this Shelly is no longer the heartbreaker in the rough that Lucinda so keenly first described you as. This Shelly is a full-on confident and legitimate heartbreaker. And what you are looking for is an extrovert with introverted tendencies: playful, friendly, outgoing, flirtatious, attractive, but can turn off the exuberance and settle in with a good book by a fireplace or hang out on your couch and play video games with you, while still looking good in a cardigan.”
“There’s that cardigan reference again,” Shelly noted, laughing.
“I pay attention to details.” Samantha smiled.
“Lucinda called me a heartbreaker in the rough?”
“Yep. Totally true.” Samantha brushed a few of the hairs off Shelly’s forehead and cupped her chin, tilting her head to the side a bit as she examined her closely. “You have the most gorgeous green eyes and naturally clear complexion of anyone I have ever worked with. You are smart and funny and sarcastic, well dressed—which I take full credit for, by the way—and sweet. Any woman would be lucky to have you. That, my friend, is why we are starting from scratch. It is my personal mission in life to find you a perfect match. Let’s get back to the drawing board and do just that.”
Shelly closed the distance between them and hugged Samantha tightly. Samantha was the first person to ever take the time to help her find the outer beauty that everyone said they saw but she never felt. Samantha had encouraged her to try wearing contacts and overhauled her wardrobe—introducing her to a tailor and a personal shopper, and giving her a crash course in basic makeup application to accent her best features. Growing up without a mother or a sister had left her without much feminine confidence. Samantha had quite literally changed her life. She felt like a different person these days, but it was for the better. She was definitely not the same girl who’d felt inferior to Samantha’s beauty on their first meeting. Nor was she the meek woman filling out endless scores of personality tests. She now considered Samantha a close friend, something that she was beyond grateful for. “Thank you.”
Samantha hugged her back and smiled. “Let me see what I can come up with—how about I swing by your dance lesson with Lucy on Tuesday and we brainstorm a bit?”
“Sounds great.” As Shelly said her good-byes and headed to the elevator, she felt like that dark cloud around her was finally starting to dissolve. If anyone could solve the puzzle that was her romantic life, she was confident Samantha Monteiro was that person.