Page 8 of Mismatched Mates

"Is this the same matchmaker my brother used?" I found myself asking, curiosity getting the better of me.

The assistant smiled enigmatically. "We have several matchmakers, each specializing in different... areas. But don't worry, you're in good hands."

Great. Cryptic answers. Just what I needed.

As we approached a cozy sitting room, I felt a wave of annoyance—at myself, at this situation. What was I even doing here?

"The matchmaker will be with you shortly," the assistant said, gesturing for me to enter the room.

I nodded, forcing a smile.

Within a few minutes, a woman walked in who looked like she'd stepped right out of a PTA meeting. Her attire struck just the right balance between business and casual.

"Jane, welcome," she said, her voice warm but sharp. "I'm Evelyn."

I tried not to sink further into the velvet armchair as she studied me with eyes that seemed to see right through my carefully constructed walls. Wonderful. A mind-reading matchmaker.

"Hi," I managed, my voice coming out more strained than I'd like. "Nice... place you've got here."

Evelyn smiled, settling into the chair opposite me. "Thank you. Now, let's talk about what you're looking for, shall we?"

No chit chat. All business.

The tick of an old grandfather clock in the corner punctuated the silence that followed. I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling like I was back in high school, being interrogated by the guidance counselor.

"Well," I started, my mind racing. What was I looking for? A time machine to go back and stop myself from ever agreeing to this? "I guess... someone nice?"

Evelyn's pen scratched softly against her notepad. "Nice," she repeated, her tone neutral. "And what else?"

I shifted in my seat, the chair creaking beneath me. "Um, responsible? Good with kids?" I was grasping at straws here, listing qualities that seemed safe and uncontroversial.

"Mhm," Evelyn murmured, her pen never stopping. "And what about passion, Jane? Connection? That spark that makes your heart race?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. "I'm not really here for... that," I said, fidgeting with my hands. "I mean, I have two kids and a business. I don't have time for sparks."

Evelyn's pen suddenly stopped its dance across the page. She tapped it thoughtfully against her chin, her gaze making me squirm.

"You don't really believe in true love, do you?" she asked, her tone casual, nonjudgemental.

The ticking of that damn grandfather clock amplified. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of how much I didn't want to be having this conversation.

"True love?" I scoffed, aiming for nonchalance but landing somewhere closer to defensive. "Come on, that's fairytale nonsense. I'm a practical person."

I couldn't exactly tell her about fated mates. As far as Evelyn knew, I was just another human looking for companionship. But her eyes narrowed slightly, and I had the unsettling feeling she knew more than she let on.

"If that's the case," she pressed, leaning forward, "why are you really here, Jane? If you don't believe in true love, what exactly are you hoping to find?"

My fingers instinctively clenched the armrests, the soft fabric suddenly felt hot, constraining.

"I..." I started, then faltered. "I don't know," I finally managed.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Evelyn's gaze. "Or maybe," I continued, my voice cracking, "I'm just jealous."

The admission hung in the air, raw and unexpected. Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, suddenly too bright. I felt exposed, vulnerable in a way I hadn't anticipated.

"It's my brother, Luke, and his fiance Victoria," I explained, the words tumbling out. "They're so disgustingly in love, it's... well, it's beautiful, actually. And terrifying."

I laughed, but it came out more like a choked sob. "I never believed in fated ma-- I mean, true love before. Maybe that was just my way of justifying my marriage. But now..." I trailed off, unable to meet Evelyn's eyes.

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