Page 78 of The Matchmaker

She’s firing me. Kindly. Politely. Firing me.

I think of the faked email. From me to Logan.

“Did you get any kind of out-of-character communication from me?” I ask. “I’ve had someone impersonating me. It’s nothing we don’t have a handle on, but—”

“Why would someone—No. Nothing like that. I know I already put down a deposit for the next part of the process. Keep it.”

There’s no hesitation in her voice. No room for counterargument.

“This is…coming out of nowhere,” I manage to say. “Are you sure you can’t share why you feel the need to take such a drastic action? I’d welcome whatever feedback you might have.”

“I’m just not interested anymore.”

There are a million scenarios I’m always braced for. Anxious clients who want to meet The One on the first go. Who want more options and make it faster please. But a polite woman who simply wants to move on? This is a first. And I can tell from her tone that she won’t be dissuaded. She’s made up her mind.

The call ends. I stare at my phone. It’s finally happened, I realize. Chatter about me has moved from the hypothetical and whispers on a random message board to the mainstream. With trembling hands, I pull up the search engine on my computer. Did Logan hit publish on his article? Am I the main character of the day? Are people blaming me for what happened to Lena? I type in my name. I type in Lena. Tanvir. Nothing new is out there. The old subreddit remains static. There is no article.

But my clients have gotten the memo. The handful of online comments from a cousin of Avani’s and a friend of Basit’s calling me a bad matchmaker, they probably barely scratch the surface of what’s happening behind the scenes. The rich are their own culture, and news travels like wildfire within it. They are likely beating my reputation into the ground behind closed doors at this very moment. People at this stratum of wealth won’t publicly shame me—doing so would only make them look bad for working with me in the first place.

But I get it now. My reputation is shot. And in my line of work, reputation is everything.

I’m done.

Twenty-three

I’ve turned the air-conditioning in the room down to sixty-three degrees. There’s nothing like being at a hotel in freezing temps to have an excuse to tuck into the warmth of the covers and do absolutely nothing but watch trash TV and try my best to get my mind off everything else going on. But it’s impossible to turn my mind off right now. A million worries loop endlessly. It’s like I’m short-circuiting. There’s only so much a brain and a body can take.

I eye my running shoes, set by the door. The Lowen has a state-of-the-art gym, and now that I have protection, I can safely “run it out” on a treadmill. A run will do me good. Except, right—I wince as I stand up, quickly remembering my ribs aren’t exactly ready for that kind of physical exertion. Instead, I grab my laptop charging on the counter and burrow back into bed. My inbox greets me with more grim news. Randa wants to pause on moving forward. Sebastian is inquiring about my refund policy. Four clients wanting to part ways in as many hours—this is the tremor behind a dam about to burst.

I’m done. I have to look away. There’s only so much of this Ican take. I’m about to shut my laptop when it begins chirping. An incoming video call. Beenish.

“Et tu, Beenish?” My heart sinks. I answer the call. I’m not going to beg and plead. If she’s made up her mind, there’s not much I can do about it. Though it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt like hell.

The video starts blurry but slowly comes into focus. Beenish is outdoors. Thick palm leaves flutter behind her. The sky in the backdrop is bright and blue. Birdsong sounds in the distance. She’s squinting at me through her phone.

“Can you hear me?” she asks.

“Beenish, before you say anything,” I begin, “I want to tell you—”

“No! Me first!” she interjects. “Nura Khan, I just called to say I love you.”

I blink at the unexpected proclamation.

“Guess where I am right now?” she sings out. “I’m on my tenth date with Nayab.” She’s grinning ear to ear. “We’re off the coast of Florida. It’s so pretty out here! And we get to have some real downtime, you know? Just the two of us.”

“Did I hear that right? You’ve been on ten dates with Nayab in the span of three weeks?”

“Yep.” She beams. “I’ll be honest, I was a touch irritated in the beginning when you made me do all the coaching sessions. I wanted to get on with things, you know? But I get it now. My work with Dr. Higdon was transformative. He helped me see that I did love Austin, but that the relationship was past its expiration date. It’s like you said, he became more of a habit I needed to learn how to kick. Considering we’d been together for nearly a decade, it was a really ingrained habit. But now, with therapy, and the acupuncturist for my nerves, it’s allclicking. I feel like a different person. I feel more likeme. And I definitely was in the exact right headspace to meet Nayab. He’s…Nura, he’s a dream come true.”

“Darcy thought you’d both be a great fit. I’ll be sure to let her know!”

“She was one hundred percent right! I know you probably want me to talk to other people, but there’s really no need. I think this might be it.”

We could be done with the conversation here. I could reiterate how happy I am for her and be grateful that I’m not getting fired. But sooner or later she’ll catch wind of the swirling rumors. I’d rather she hear about them from me.

“Beenish, this is the best kind of update. I can’t tell you how you’ve just made my day. While I have you here, I did want to talk to you about something serious.” I hesitate. I just need to say it. “There are rumors going around about me. About mistakes people think that I’ve made as a matchmaker.”

“Oh, that?” She waves a hand. “I heard all about that ridiculous nonsense.”

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