“Oh, a great little place that’s nice and quiet, right on the beach. Chelsea has the whole patio hired out for us.”
“Spare no expense. Did she do that for Dylan and his date, too?”
Connie smiled. “I’m sure she did.”
When they got out of the car, another cameraman was waiting.
“Wow, they care a lot about our convo,” observed Fia.
“Well, we are fascinating women,” said Connie.
“Of course. In that case, they should have more cameras. Broadcast us on every damn station in the country!”
“They should.” Connie nodded. “So, in here. Follow me.”
Fia nodded and followed behind, wondering how long this would take, because really, she just needed to get somewhere quiet so she could scream and then have a Mai Tai, and then maybe relax on the beach for the next two days.
Chelsea bustled up. “Connie, great, right on time.” She smiled broadly. “Oh, this is going to be good. So, so good.”
“It’s just a wrap up,” muttered Fia under her breath.
“What’s that?” Chelsea peered over at her.
“I said this is such fun.” Fia gave a fake smile with extra teeth.
“Yes, it is.” Chelsea nodded vigorously. “Oh, I’m just so excited. So, Pete, you set up over there,” she pointed across the room. “And the rest of the crew is here, doing their thing.” She waved her hand. “Connie, Fia, makeup is set up over by the little lobby, so please, just head over so we can retouch. Fia, you’re sweaty and your hair needs work.”
Fia rolled her eyes. “Sure thing.”
As the makeup artist dabbed and patted, she glanced over at Connie. “Chelsea seems really into this whole wrap up with us thing. Shouldn’t she be at Dylan’s date? Isn’t that going to start soon?” She blinked and sneezed when the makeup brush tickled her nose. “Sorry! Excuse me. Sorry.”
“Well, this isn’t being broadcast live,” pointed out Connie. “So I’m sure she’ll be at Dylan’s date, too. They’re probably getting ready right now.”
“So what’s your girl’s name?” Fia flinched when the makeup person did something with her left eyebrow.
“Oh, I can’t spill it now. It will all be revealed soon.” Connie smiled. “You ready? Chelsea is waving you over. I’ll just be another minute, it looks like.”
Fia slid out of the chair and thanked the artist, then dutifully headed over to Chelsea, who was speaking rapidly into a cell phone, all smiles. “So he’s ready? Great. Have him come in the back. Yes.” She looked up at Fia and pointed to the lobby, mouthing, “You need to wait there.”
“Jesus,” muttered Fia. The lobby seemed to have an inordinate amount of people—camera crew, an assistant, and the restaurant manager, who seemed super excited to be part of the show, judging from the expression on his face.
She peered back into the main area of the restaurant, where a table was set prominently in the center of the room. Other tables had been removed to make way for cameras. At Chelsea’s cue, a hovering assistant lit two candles on the table, and another one placed a bottle of champagne, nestled in a silver ice bucket, next to it.
“Wow, looks like we really get a special deal,” Fia said.
“Excuse me?” The assistant near her looked up, face expectant through her blue glasses.
“Nothing. I’m good.” Fia smiled, and took a breath when Chelsea came bustling up.
“Fia! Great, they fixed your face. Awesome. So we’re going to get started in two minutes. Connie’s ready,” she looked across the room and waved. “And when I cue you, you’ll walk in and sit down at the table. The cue will be me pointing to you, then to the table. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s important that you understand the directions.”’
“So basically, when you cue me, I’ll take off my dress and start dancing on the bar.” She smirked.
“Fia, please.”
“It was a joke. Fine, yes. When you point at me and then the table, I’ll walk into the room and sit down. Yes, it’s very clear.”
“Thank you.” Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to have to do a retake.”
“God, no.” The last thing Fia wanted was for this to last longer than it already was. “I too would like to avoid that.”
“Then we’re on the same page. When I point…” Chelsea raised her eyebrows.
“I walk in. Sit down. Got it.” There probably wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make this better, but it would be a funny story for Grace later, and even after that, for friends and family, so she focused on that little silver lining.
“Okay. Wait here, please.” Chelsea hurried across the room and stood near the table, a few feet away, with Connie. The cameras went live, and Chelsea burst into vibrancy. “Welcome back to the final reveal Dylan’s date!” She paused and smiled. “I know you’ve all be waiting patiently to find out about who Dylan chose for his date, and I’m here to tell you that the wait is almost over! Connie, tell us a little more about the woman he’s going to meet in just a minute.”
Fia frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Shhhh!” Next to her, the assistant put a hand to her lips and pointed to the camera, frowny face in full array.
“But I’m supposed to talk with Connie about—”
“Quiet!” hissed the woman, eyes widening.
“But…” Fia trailed off.
Connie gestured to the table. “The woman I found for Dylan is someone very special. She’s kind and smart and funny and sarcastic, and I think she’ll keep him on his toes. I can already tell there’s going to be a strong chemistry between them.”
“And how can you tell?” Chelsea seemed so fascinated.
“You’ll see,” Connie said, her voice smug. She seemed as giddy as Chelsea.
“So let’s bring in Dylan, and then we’ll introduce his date!”
The back door of the restaurant opened, and in walked Dylan. Fia, stunned to see him again, blinked to see him in a suit, unlike his casual outfit from before. It fit him perfectly, and his tall, strong form made her catch her breath.
He walked up to Chelsea and Connie, looking less at ease than he had before.
“Dylan, are you excited to meet your date?” Chelsea quizzed him.
Dylan crossed his arms. “It depends on how you define excited.”
“Oh, you!” Chelsea burbled, and hit him on the arm with dramatic affection. “Tell us why you chose the way you did. What was it about Connie’s dossier that made you choose her date, with a hundred percent certainty?”
Dylan tilted his head. “She included some details in there that intrigued me. That’s all I’m going to say at this point.”
“Oh, you sly devil. Well, let’s get you seated then, so you can finally meet her…your perfect match!”
Dylan nodded and sat down at the table, and looked across the room. He froze as he saw Fia. A moment went by, their eyes locked, then he smiled, that slow, sexy smile that she remembered from their nights together. Then his whole body relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair, smirking.
“Let’s bring her in!” called out Chelsea, then pointed right at Fia and then to the table.
Fia spun around, dying to see Dylan’s date, and bumped into Blue Glasses. “Oof,” she said. “Sorry, I need to move so his date can—”
“Walk, now,” whispered Blue. “Go.”
“I’m going! Just, let me get by you.”
“No! Walk that way. She’s pointing to you. The cue. Walk to the table.”
“It’s not time! It’s not my turn! That’s for later, for when I talk with Connie.”
“It’s for now.”
Chelsea cleared her throat. “Fia, please come over here!” She was showing all of her teeth again, but it seemed like a pleased, happy smile, not her weird one.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Fia whisper-wailed, and took an awkward step forward when Blue pushed against her back, not hard, but a clear indication to walk.
“I’m messing things up!” she stage-whispered to the general room, but nobody made a move to stop her. The camera followed her. “You’re going to have to do a retake,” she added, her voice a little louder. “Connie, are we talking?” But Connie just smiled and shook her head.
Fia slowed down. Time seemed to slow down, too, but when she glanced back at Dylan’s face, she forgot about the rest of the room. His eyes, so clear and gorgeous, were still trained on her. Uncertain, she broke the gaze to look to Chelsea with supplication. “But I don’t…” she began.
“It’s a double surprise!” cried out Chelsea, throwing her arm around Connie’s shoulder. “Everyone, you’ll be excited to know that Dylan’s final date, his perfect match, is none other than his other matchmaker herself…Fia Martin!”
“I’m—what?” Fia turned to Connie. “What’s going on?”
“Yes, Connie, tell us!” Chelsea turned. “Tell us the whole story.”
“Well, I told you the very first time we talked that I match people with my gut. And when I saw Dylan and Fia interact, I knew there was something there…a spark. And as the weeks went by, and all of our dates with him didn’t go anywhere, I started to suspect there might be a reason for it that neither of them realized. And it was that they were perfect for each other. So I enrolled Fia in my service, and chose her for my final date for Dylan. And I was right. When I described her to him, he chose her immediately. Without even seeing her picture, I might add.”
“So, Fia, go ahead and sit down at the table,” Connie said. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I didn’t think you’d agree to come if you knew what I was up to.”
“And I loved the element of surprise, once I found out!” said Chelsea.
Fia was frozen. She was the date? The final date was her? She opened her mouth and shut it again, then sat down across from Dylan.
“Dylan, did you have even a clue that your final date was going to be with Fia?” asked Chelsea.
He smiled, but it was for Fia. “Connie’s dossier told me the one thing I needed to know. She said my perfect match is someone I’ve known for a while now, whose passion burns as brightly as mine, and who can out-quip me when necessary. And who can insult me too, and that I can’t take my eyes off of her when we’re together.”
“That wasn’t in…” started Fia.
“It was an additional note,” explained Dylan. “She mailed it separately.”
“That’s cheating!” Fia’s eyes widened. “Like the strawberries!”
Connie laughed from behind her. “It’s called knowing your audience.”
Fia bit her lip, all her attention focused on Dylan. “You never called me.”
“I know. I thought you didn’t want me to.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have tried, you know, to send me sky-writing notes or roses.” She narrowed her eyes.
“Well, I didn’t get any messenger pigeons myself.”
“Dylan, those went extinct in the 1900s. Or something. Please.” She waved her hand. “So you knew it was me? You knew?”
He nodded. “I was pretty sure, yeah. Connie didn’t say your name, but who else could it be?”
“And you…wanted it to be me?” She held her breath, her whole body vibrating with tension.
He stood up and held out his hand. “Yeah, Fia, I did. I wanted it to be you.”
She didn’t get up yet. “But you blamed me for the art.”
“I’m sorry.” His response was immediate. “I should have known it wasn’t you. I…” He hesitated, pulled his hand back into his side. “I was surprised and made a quick assumption. Later on I found out what really happened. Chelsea.” He narrowed his eyes at his co-host, who made a mock “who, me?” look and put her hand over her mouth, as if she were a kid getting called out.
“Yes. You. You snoopy snoop.” But he sounded sort of affectionate. “But you blamed me for the bad coverage of the third date. I honestly—I was as surprised as you were to see that.”
“Chelsea.” This time, Fia gave the TV host The Look. Chelsea giggled, innocent and cute, a shark disguised for TV. Fia rolled her eyes, but immediately forgot about Chelsea.
“So I wanted to call you and figure it out, but I decided to wait a week until this mess was done.” He gestured around the room. “And then Connie let me know a little about her choice. So here we are.” He smiled. Just a simple smile, and it melted Fia’s heart.
He held out his hand again. “Fia?”
She stood and gave him her other hand. Warm and strong, his fingers squeezed hers, then he pulled her in for a hug.
“Is this just for TV?” she whispered, needing to know. “You need to be honest with me. Please.” Her voice shook.
“I’m not just doing this for TV,” he whispered into her ear. “Fuck, no. I might be an asshole sometimes, but I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“So you really wanted to go out on a date with me?”
“Haven’t we already done a little more than that?” he murmured.
She flushed. “But we said it was a one-time thing.”
“Maybe we made a bad decision.”
“But you don’t want a relationship.”
He paused, then said, “But then I met you.” His face was earnest, his eyes clear. He smiled and shook his head. “And I guess I realized it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Way to sell me on it, Einstein.” But she felt her vision blur with unfallen tears.
He reached up and brushed one away with his thumb, so softly it was like velvet. “I thought you liked my sense of humor.”
“Just like that, then?” She wanted so badly to believe him, to trust this. But it was so fast! Too abrupt. How could it be real? Yet when she looked into his eyes, the honesty and emotion there floored her.
“Even super smart people like us make dumb choices sometimes. And then they deserve a second chance. Don’t you think so?” He touched her cheek, then cupped her face with his hand. “Will you give me a second chance?”
“Yeah,” she replied, and he leaned in and kissed her. The minute his lips touched hers, she leaned into his body, his mouth familiar and new at once. His smell, his hands, his firm arms—all of this she remembered, and yet every detail about him was still endlessly fascinating.
He pulled back from the kiss to look into her eyes.
“So I don’t know what this means, but I tell you what, you’re the only girl I want to ask out on a second date.” He grinned again, that charming sexy grin. “Once we leave here. What do you say?”
“Yes. I say yes.”
“Good. Then let’s head out back to the dumpster. I have some Ramen waiting for you, princess.”
“God, you’re so extra. Can I date the other girl instead of him?” she asked, rolling her eyes at Connie, but her grip on Dylan’s hand was a clear indication that she was joking.
“So, folks, what a twist to our story! I bet none of you saw that coming!” Chelsea’s smile was so broad that Fia thought it might actually reach her ears, in a horrible yet fascinating Cheshire-human conglomeration. “What a twist! My gosh. All along, our matchmaker and her client were falling for each other…and the other matchmaker is the one who figured it out! Do I bring you the very best stories or what?” She waved her hand. “You can always trust me to find you the. Very. Best. Things!”
Now that the big reveal was over, Chelsea seemed disinclined to need more footage, and in a surprisingly short time, the set dismantled, crew scurrying around like a fast-motion film with gear and boxes.
Handshakes from the restaurant manager happened, hugs from various assistants, a wink from Connie, and then she was nearly alone with Dylan. The remaining people seemed disinterested in them, except as barriers to moving tables back into position and wheeling out black and silver electronic things on dollies.
“So.” She looked up at him, emotions all mixed up. “I probably need at least a week or two to process what just happened.” She still didn’t really believe it, althoug
h in retrospect, it all seemed to make sense: Connie’s mysterious attitude in the car, the sudden last-minute change of plans, even the last luncheon with Connie. All the little clues, seen in reverse, were like signposts to this very moment. But she wasn’t sure she was a hundred percent happy.
“Maybe three weeks,” he agreed. “How about we get out of here and start now?”
“Okay.” She followed him to the door, then hesitated. “I mean, do we need to call an Uber, or…what?” She glanced around, uncertain.
“They owe us at least one limo ride,” Dylan said with a laugh, and gestured to his assistant, the one who attended him on set back in L.A. “Marc, Fia and I need a ride back to the hotel. Can you hook us up?”
Fia noted that it was not really a request, but Dylan was never rude to the staff, unlike Chelsea, who skated on the very thin ice at the edge of the bitch pond.
“We’re in the same hotel?” She blinked as the car pulled up.
“If we’re not, I promise I’ll take you back to yours later…if you really want to go.” He gave her a wicked grin.
She smiled, but her stomach hurt from all of the pent-up anxiety.
“You okay?” He peered at her as they slid into the car.
She nodded as the driver pulled into the street, buckling her seatbelt. “Just a little shell-shocked, I think.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said with a smile. “Like I said, I thought it was going to be you. I was about ninety-nine percent sure. But you never know with Chelsea and this show, so I had a little doubt.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure of anything,” she said, starting to realize what was bothering her. “And…I just wish…”
“You wish what?” He sounded serious, matching her tone. He turned his head to her. “What is it, Fia?”
“I don’t know. I just…I don’t like being taken off guard like that. Like it was all a big game, haha. First I was the laughing stock of the show because Chelsea thought that would be funny. And now the joke’s on me again, even though it’s a good punch line. I get the guy, awesome, great. But everyone’s so excited about fooling me. It makes me feel stupid and naïve and pissed.” She crossed her arms and shook her head.
Perfect Match Page 21
