Page 44 of Miss Matched

“It’s not an insult, Kenz. But sometimes you care too much.”

It’s ironic, considering every one of my ex-boyfriends has accused me of the exact opposite.

I sigh. “Paul was one of the good ones; he was here for the right reasons, unlike guys like Chad.” His name almost sticks between my teeth. “He’d lost so much. If anyone deserved love, it was him.”

Deep down, I still believe that. Even if Paul is in self-destruct mode at this point and has full-on intentions of strapping the bomb to his chest and blowing me up with him, I know in my heart he originally came to me for the right reasons.

Paul is what I consider a born romantic, like Monica. He believes in true love, and he found it, marrying his wife right out of high school. The trouble with love is that it doesn’t account for what life throws at it, and eight years into their marriage, he lost her to cancer.

When I met him a few years after that, he’d grieved the kind of loss that makes love feel not worth pursuing, and somehow he’d come out the other side ready to do it all over again.

Jessica was the perfect match, I was sure of it. Their compatibility was aligned, their lives made sense together, and they lit each other up like Christmas lights. Except all that changed after the wedding. Paul had skipped the prenup, clouded by the hearts in his eyes, and a year into their marriage, Jessica took him for all he was worth.

She claimed he cheated by showing off a photo of him hugging another woman, one he swore was a friend. And even if there was nothing else to back up her claims, it didn’t matter. She played the brokenhearted wife, shedding crocodile tears in court, and they believed her. She got everything she asked for and then some.

Paul didn’t care about possessions so much as revenge. But instead of going after her, his sights were set on me, the woman who promised him love and handed him heartache.

“I should have known,” I say to Sam.

“We’ve gone down that road. None of us could have known. The woman was a fucking gold digger, and she was damn good at hiding it.” He digs out two sticks of gum from his suit jacket pocket and hands one to me.

“You good?” He stands.

I nod. “Always. I’ll deal with this.” I point to the folder.

My computer pings, and it catches Sam’s attention.

“Chad again?” He lifts a pessimistic eyebrow.

I shake my head. “Zac.”

That widens his eyes. “Finally got the balls to run him?”

“He asked for date number two with Jasmine.”

The corner of his mouth turns down. “Sorry, Kenz.” I hate that he can read me enough to know it bothers me. He might be oblivious to most things—namely Racine’s raging crush on him—but he’s seen through me when it comes to Zac from day one.

I wave him off with a forced reassurance, and Sam leaves me in peace.

I close my eyes and shake my head. This is what’s best. Jasmine is what’s best. How I feel is irrelevant, and I need to remind myself of that enough times that it sticks.

What’s the worst thing my program could tell me right now? That Jasmine is perfect for him? After all, she’s in here. So if his date really was that amazing, then there’s no doubt Ms. Obvious Choice is the one to match with him.

Click.

I open the file, ready for whatever else this day wants to throw at me. Only there’s no preparing me for what’s staring back.

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