Page 150 of Failure to Match

Another thumbs-down emoji.

Why? What had I said?

Can you talk super quick?

Thumbs down.

Can you respond with actual words?

Hedgehog emoji. Dentist emoji. Broken heart emoji.

Okay, so Jackson’s phone had been stolen. I scrolled up to the text containing Miray’s personal information and deleted it.

Jackson

:(

I left it alone and slipped it back into my clutch. Jackson Sinclair had never used an emoji in his life. I wasn’t even sure he knew what they were.

“Name?”

“Sinclair. We have a reservation for two separate tables at... seven…” I trailed off, confused by her expression.

With a tight, forced smile the hostess aggressively snapped her leather folder shut and said, “Follow me.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d said or done to earn that tone, but maybe she was just having a rough day. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.

People were allowed to have bad days.

But did she have to walk so far ahead of me, and so fast? I was half-jogging just to keep up with her. And just as I was gearing up to politely say something, she stopped, turned, and pointed a finger toward the bar.

“We had tables reserved,” I said. No way we’d all be sitting at the bar.

“Mr. Sinclair instructed us to take you to him when you arrived,” she said tightly. “Your tables are ready whenever you are.”

Right. Okay. Except Jackson wasn’t at the bar. It was just a bartender and some guy slumped over the—oh, shit.

I ran over to him when recognition hit, my pulse kicking. Jackson was fully slumped over the bar, his cheek pressed against it. His suit jacket was slung over another stool, and he was... he was petting the decorative hedgehog figurine beside him.

Oh my god.

“Jackson?” I whispered as I approached.

Please don’t be drunk. Please, please, please don’t be drunk.

“D’you see? I’m even hearing her voice,” he slurred at the hedgehog.

Oh god. He was wasted. No wonder the staff was pissed.

“Are you the date or his Jamie?”

I blinked at the bartender, my stomach tightening. “Pardon?”

“Are you the date,” she repeated slowly, “or his Jamie?”

Uh… “I’m Jamie.”

Hisdatewas going to be here any minute now, which meant... I had to get him out of here. Likenow.

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