Page 11 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“I’m pretty sure the rest went to Diane.” She nods. “And I just got an email from the Frosthaven Events Committee. They said they’re reviewing whether you should still host the Annual Matchmaking Gala next month.”

My pen slips from my fingers and hits the floor.

“Isla?” Jen’s voice is gentle. “Are you okay?”

This business isn’t just my job. It’s everything to me. Helping people find love has always felt like a privilege. Even if I haven’t found it myself, at least I’ve been close to it.

Like watching my mom fall for Victor after all those difficult years, seeing that kind of connection made me believe that maybe it could find me, too.

Am I losing my dream job, too?

No. Focus. I just need to find a way to fix this. Win back their trust. Remind them why they believed in me in the first place.

I press my palms against the edge of the desk, grounding myself. “Do you have any idea why the recent matches haven’t been working out?”

“Maybe . . . maybe it’s just the new system throwing things off? You said you updated your method a few weeks ago, right?”

I nod, rubbing my temple. The new compatibility system focuses on the client’s dream checklist. Successful careers. Polished appearances. Impressive accomplishments.

It’s a pretty big shift from how I used to work. My original method paired people who balanced and complemented each other, not focusing on checking off all the boxes.

And sure, it doesn’t make much sense to change something that brought me success before.

But I want to keep improving.

“Come on, Isla. This isn’t a fairy tale. People need successful partners who elevate them, not hold them back.”Kyle used to say that all the time.

He had consulted for other matchmaking companies in bigger towns and cities. I figured he knew what worked, like trends, client psychology, and the kind of systems that made those agencies successful.

I rub my shoulder and fix my gaze on the floor. “The system just needs more time. A little refining, and it’ll be perfect.”

I’ll work on making the system perfect. Well, I have to work on myself too. To be better, to be perfect.

If I can just get close to that, maybe people won’t walk away. Maybe I won’t get dumped ten times. Maybe my father wouldn’t have packed his suitcase back then and never looked back.

The bell over the door of The Old Mill Restaurant jingles as Elaine, Roxanne, and I step inside. My friends insisted on taking me out for lunch, determined to make sure I’m okay.

We all grew up next to each other on Quail’s Nest Way, along with Asher and another neighbor, Xander. We used to play together, run back and forth between houses, and have family dinners like one big neighborhood crew.

Things aren’t quite the same since my twin brother, Conner, left town for his professional hockey career but retired early from his promising hockey career due to injury, and Xander . . . well, he also left town a long time ago for reasons none of us talk about anymore.

Still, Elaine and Roxanne are my closest friends besides Asher. And by “closest,” I mean they know all my embarrassing secrets and still choose to be seen with me in public.

Like the time I accidentally dyed my hair highlighter orange trying to go strawberry blonde, and they both showed up at my place with matching wigs and said, “If you’re going down, we’re going with you.” We wore them to the town bonfire that night like it was a fashion statement.

“Three for lunch?” Maeve, the restaurant owner, calls out. Her gray curls bounce as she peers at me through wire-rimmed glasses. “Isla, honey! How are you holding up? I’ve been meaning to thank you again for helping with that online system last month. It’s made such a difference with the lunch rush.”

Great. Even Maeve knows about my humiliation. I force a smile. Maeve’s the kind of person who’d rather study dinner specials than town gossip, so if she knows, everyone must know.

“I’m okay.” I step a little closer to the counter, like it might shield me from the dozen curious eyes I canfeelswiveling in my direction. “And I’m really glad the system’s working out. If you ever want to try online reservations or pre-orders, just let me know. I’m happy to help.”

I tug at my sleeve, offering a quick smile that I hope reads as normal-person-at-lunch and not town-pariah-walking-through-fire.

Elaine loops her arm through mine and grins at Maeve. “Window booth, please. And yep—same orders as always. You’re the best, Maeve.”

We slide into the worn vinyl seats, and I immediately grab a menu to hide myself behind.

I can feel Roxanne studying my face, probably cataloging every micro-expression. She’s always the level-headed one of our little trio. I swear, sometimes I think she missed her calling as a detective or something.

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