Page 9 of Mismatched Mates

"Now you're wondering if you've been lying to yourself all along?" Evelyn offered gently.

I nodded, surprised by the lump in my throat. "What if I do want that kind of love? What if I'm just scared it's not meant for me?"

The matchmaker listened intently, her pen forgotten on her notepad. When I finished, she nodded slowly, a half-smile playing at her lips.

"You know, Jane," she said, her voice soft but clear, "it's not about the lies we tell others. It's the ones we tell ourselves that keep us from what we really want."

I blinked, taken aback by the simple truth of her words.

"You've already taken the first step," Evelyn continued, closing her notepad. "And I assure you, I'm very good at my job."

I felt a strange mix of relief and discomfort wash over me. It was like a weight had been lifted, but now I wasn't quite sure what to do with all this newfound... space.

"Great," I muttered, only half-joking. "So now what? You conjure up my perfect mate?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Not quite. But I think you'll find that opening yourself up to the possibility of love is its own kind of magic."

I rolled my eyes, wondering how this woman managed to illicit such a confession from me in the span of a few short minutes.

I stepped out of the Victorian house, squinting as the afternoon sun hit my face. The warmth was a stark contrast to the coolness inside, and for a moment, I just stood there, letting the heat seep into my skin.

"Well, that was... something," I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair.

The quiet suburban street stretched out before me, silent save for the crunch of gravel under my boots as I made my way to my car. Each step felt like a decision, though I wasn't quite sure what I was deciding.

"What the hell am I doing?" I asked out loud.

The universe remained predictably silent.

JANE

The hum of my car engine felt like a chorus, narrating the questionable life choices I’d made that led to me speeding down the winding road flanked by towering pines towards my blind date. To protect both parties, the service arranged for the meeting to take place in Foxmere, a town about ten miles out.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself. "A blind date? What am I, sixteen?"

A little frisson of guilt went through me—despite my surprising admission at the matchmaker’s office, I was only going through with this ridiculous plan to save face. And get back at Jason. There were few things that provided as much motivation as revenge.

It's just for show, I reminded myself.

The thought of my brother's upcoming nuptials twisted my stomach into knots. I couldn't bear the pitying looks from relatives if I showed up alone.

The problem with living in the same small town as my ex was that everyone knew everyone else’s business. Pretending I had a boyfriend without some proof was a game I could only play for so long.

My palms were sweaty, and I told myself it was just nerves about meeting a stranger. Definitely not hope.

I planned to be upfront with my date about the situation and leave no room for misinterpretation. Ugly truths were better than pretty lies, that was my motto.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Trees blurred past in a green smear, and I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the glare of headlights bearing straight at me.

A massive truck swerved into my lane, its horn blaring. My heart leapt into my throat as I yanked the wheel hard to the right.

"Shit!"

The world spun in a nauseating blur. Tires screeched against pavement. The sickening crunch of metal filled my ears as my car careened off the road, coming to a jolting stop against a sturdy pine.

For a moment, I sat frozen, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The airbag deflated before me, leaving a faint chemical smell in its wake. I blinked, assessing. No pain, just the thundering of my pulse.

"Well," I said to the empty car, my voice shaky, "this is one way to avoid a blind date."

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