The Romeo Effect

by Monroe, Lila

  “This is great,” she says when I show her to Poppy’s old bedroom. She turns, taking it all in. “I can already imagine . . . yes . . .” She turns toward me, beaming. “This will be perfect! The lighting is spectacular. I’d have no trouble filming here.”

  I lead her back out to show her the kitchen. “Out here pretty much speaks for itself,” I continue. “It’s small, but there’s plenty of storage. And the landlord is really great.”

  “Would you mind if I kept some of my equipment in here?” Dahlia asks. “I like to bake to unwind after a long day.”

  Do I like to eat? Wannabe pastry chef? I suddenly want to marry this woman!

  I’m about to tell her the apartment’s hers—well, half hers—when Natalie appears in the doorway, looking like she’s just seen a ghost. Or maybe a crazed clown.

  “Uh, April, can I . . . uh. I need to show you something for a sec.”

  “Can it wait?” I don’t want to be rude, but Natalie grabs my sleeve and yanks me into the bathroom.

  “What is it?” I whisper-yell. “I don’t want to be rude to my new roommate!”

  “About that . . .” Natalie smirks. “Her ‘passion project’? It’s furry porn.”

  I blink. “Furry what now?!”

  “Furry porn,” she repeats, showing me her laptop. “She dresses up in a bear costume. And then has hairy grizzly sex with dudes. Also in costume—except for their porny body parts, which, I am saddened to tell you, are also furry. Very furry. Definitely no hair removal going on there.”

  My mouth drops open as she shows me one of the videos. One of the very hairy videos. Of course, it’s in HD.

  “Oh my God. My eyes!” I squeeze them closed, but the image of Dahlia and her furry . . . ugh . . . is burned into my brain. “Oh my God. She wants to film here!?”

  “You need to get rid of her,” Natalie says. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

  Ignoring Nat’s teasing, I tell Dahlia that I still have several appointments and that I’ll be in touch, as I basically push her out the door.

  “Well,” I sigh. “That was all of them. So, I’m either going to go broke living here by myself, or—oh, you know, get stuck in ‘choose your own adventure’ roommate hell.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. Better luck next time?” Natalie’s phone buzzes insistently. “And there’s my cue. I need to get back to the newsroom.”

  She gives me a quick hug, then opens the door.

  Standing right there is a man, poised to knock.

  A man that I recognize. But it takes me a moment because this time, he’s not wearing scrubs. Or holding an empty cup that just spilled all down me. Oh right—the doctor.

  “Hi,” I say, surprised. “You’re the guy from the coffee shop. Wait, what are you doing here?”

  I wonder if I need to be worried, but the man looks as surprised as I am.

  “This is your place?” he asks, looking around. He holds up one of the tear-strips from my ad. “I’m here about the apartment. Wow, what are the chances?!”

  Natalie looks him up and down. Right away, he takes off his gloves and offers his hand. “James Preston,” he says, introducing himself. “I met April here the other day, on my way to work.”

  “Which is?” Natalie asks.

  “At the hospital. I’m a resident there.”

  “A doctor!” Natalie gives me a meaningful look. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it. Good luck, April!” she singsongs as she gives me a thumbs up behind James’s back. She heads down the stairs, leaving us alone.

  “Is this OK?” James asks. “I saw the ad in the coffee shop, and I’ve been looking for a place for a while.”

  “Sure, it’s fine,” I say, snapping back to attention. “I was actually just interviewing applicants. Come on in. I’m April, by the way.”

  “I remember.” He smiles.

  “Right. And you’re James,” I repeat. “Sorry, I was so distracted when we met before.”

  “Ice-cold coffee will do that to you.”

  “Oh, I have your scrub top, by the way.” I cross to the pile of clean laundry. “I was just going to drop it back at the hospital.”

  “Well, I guess I saved you a trip.” James smiles wider. Now that I’m not drenched and/or looking for Seth, I can see he’s actually kind of cute.

  I relax. “So, this is the place. As you can see, it’s kind of basic, but it’s a great building, and the location is amazing. Plus, rent control.”

  “It looks awesome,” James says, looking around. “But . . . I’m afraid I can’t do this.”

  Huh?

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, scared he’s about to tell me something weird. Or worse, that he’ll take off his shoes like toe-picking guy.

  “The apartment looks great, but I couldn’t move in here. It would be weird living with you when . . . what I really want is to ask you out.”

  I blink.

  James’s smile turns sheepish. “Would you like to go out to dinner? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we ran into each other—literally. And now here we are. How crazy is it that I knock on a door looking for a place and there you are? It’s—”

  “Serendipity,” I finish. “Like the movie.”

  He smiles. “So?”

  I mean, who am I to argue with fate?

  “Sure, let’s have dinner,” I agree. OK, so my stomach isn’t exactly flipping cartwheels over this guy, but if destiny wants to send him to my doorstep, that must be worth a slice of pizza, at least.

  “Great.” James scribbles down his cellphone number for me. “I have to run, but why don’t you text me later and we can figure out details?”

  “OK,” I agree, smiling. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  He heads out, and I look around the spotless apartment. Well, I’m still no closer to a roommate, but I do have a date tonight.

  That counts as a win for me.

  I’m about to head back to the shop when I notice James’s gloves sitting on the kitchen counter. I stuff them in my purse and hurry downstairs, wondering if I can catch him.

  Sure enough, when I burst outside, I see him just across the street. “James!” I call, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s waving hello to someone, arriving on the corner to meet . . .

  Seth?

  I blink. But I’m not hallucinating. He’s still there, deep in conversation with James like they know each other.

  Which is weird. I mean, first I meet Seth at Bloom, then they both are hanging around the coffee shop . . . And now James turns up on my doorstep while Seth waits outside?

  What the hell is going on here?

  5

  April

  Something doesn’t add up. And it’s definitely not serendipity pulling the strings here.

  Who are these guys, and what are they playing at?

  I start to cross the street, but it’s rush hour—or should I say slush hour—and I have to step back from the curb to avoid getting sprayed with cold, wet guck and grit. By the time I’m able to cross, James is zooming away in the back of an Uber, and Seth is standing on the sidewalk, watching him go.

  Until I get right in front of him. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Seth blinks. For a minute, he looks totally trapped, then he puts on a casual smile.

  “Do we know each other?” he asks innocently.

  Which I’m not buying for a second. I’m also not noticing how hot he is. Nope. I am completely impervious to those baby-blue eyes and that sexy rumpled hair.

  “Cut the crap, and start talking,” I tell him. “Fast.”

  “Look, April—” he begins.

  “HA!” I interrupt. “You do remember me!”

  Seth pauses. “Right. The flower girl. Such a coincidence, seeing you here.”

  I glare. “Try again.”

  Seth glances at his watch. “Um . . . I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to run. See ya later!”

  And then he’s off, jogging away from me down the sidewalk before I can
stop him. Damn it!

  It’s cold, and I forgot my coat, but before I can think twice, I take off after him, determined to get some answers. Once he’s clear of the neighborhood, he slows down to a regular pace, but I decide not to catch up just yet. Instead, I follow behind him, wondering who this guy is and what he’s up to. Because my spidey senses are telling me something weird is going on.

  Sure enough, when he reaches 10th Street, he pauses on the corner and studies at his watch. Looks around. Pulls a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket and starts speaking into it.

  I’m not close enough to hear, but seriously, what the everloving hell? Is he in the CIA or something?

  I check the time on my phone to see if it means anything. Three p.m. exactly.

  Then, as I loiter, watching, a woman emerges from a building right there. She glances at Seth and gives him a weird smile, but she doesn’t say anything to him. When she sees the light turn, she starts crossing.

  She’s halfway across the street when a cab rounds the corner, heading straight for her.

  Oh my God!

  I freeze in panic. She’s going to get creamed! The woman is looking at her phone, distracted, and doesn’t see the cab hurtling closer. I open my mouth to yell a warning, but at that exact moment, a guy leaps off the curb, and hurls himself at her, knocking her into a snowbank on the curb.

  She’s safe!

  I gulp for air, relieved. The pair are tangled up on the ground, already laughing about it. What a lucky save!

  But then I see Seth watching, still talking into the walkie-talkie . . . and looking right at the couple in the snowbank. He smiles, and he almost looks . . . proud?

  Wait a minute . . .

  The couple get to their feet, and the man gestures to a nearby café. The woman takes his arm, and they move off together. But as they do, the woman glances back, and gives Seth a delighted smile.

  Thank you, she mouths, and Seth gives her a grin.

  Holy shit, this whole thing was a setup!

  I wait until they’re gone and then steam right over to Seth. “You need to start talking. Now.”

  He whirls around. “Are you following me?”

  “Oh, that’s rich coming from . . . Well, I don’t know who you are yet, but I know you have some explaining to do!”

  Seth gives a shrug and starts to walk away, but I grab his arm, yanking him back. “I’m serious! Or I’ll go tell that man he isn’t the hero he thinks he is.”

  Seth’s expression changes. “You can’t.”

  “Watch me. What the hell was that?” I demand. “You nearly got her killed!”

  “It was all under control,” Seth insists. “The driver was never going to hit her.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I hired him to almost run her down,” Seth finally admits.

  I gape.

  “But it’s for a good cause,” he adds. “True love. Isn’t that the most noble thing of all?” He puts on a bashful smile, but I’m not buying it. “Come on, look at them. He gets to feel like a hero, and she gets an introduction to the man she’s been pining over for years.”

  I spare a glance for the couple and have to admit, they do look happy and very engrossed with each other.

  “But still, that doesn’t explain what you’re doing!”

  Seth sighs. “If I tell you, will you promise not to go blabbing it around?”

  “Why, is it a top-secret mission?” I quip, sarcastic.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Fine then. But I’m serious,” I add, warning. “If you don’t answer my questions, I’ll go tell him he’s being manipulated.”

  “I prefer to think of it as . . . nudged in the right direction,” Seth says. “I mean, I didn’t make him leap out to save her. I merely set the stage for his heroics.”

  “Hurupmh,” I mutter, still seriously confused. And seriously hungry. I spot a waffle cart in the park and nod to it. “Food first. Then explanations.”

  We stroll over, and when I’m munching on some delicious carbs, Seth takes a deep breath and begins talking.

  “So,” Seth starts. “You’re right. It was a set up. But that’s my thing. My job, I mean.”

  I look at him sideways. “You set up . . . what, exactly?”

  He smiles. Adorably. “Meet-cutes.”

  “That’s not a job.”

  “My dozens of happy clients would beg to differ.” He must notice me shivering, because he gives a sigh, and then reluctantly peels off his jacket.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  He rolls his eyes. “You’re turning blue.”

  Well . . . Good point.

  I slide my arms in and pull the jacket closed, zipping it up. It’s warm and cozy and smells amazing: like warm, delicious man.

  Focus, April.

  I return to my line of questioning. “So, you’re telling me you’re like a . . . freelance cupid?”

  “Not freelance,” he says. “I work for a firm. Totally legit. It’s called the Romeo, Inc.”

  I laugh. “It sounds like an escort agency.”

  He grins. “I know. But it’s all on the up and up.”

  “And . . . you orchestrate meet-cutes,” I say again, trying to wrap my brain around all this. “Like . . . Will Smith in Hitch?”

  Seth makes a face. “Not exactly . . .”

  “What’s different?”

  “He was a relationship coach. I’m . . . like a director. Setting the stage for unforgettable first encounters that can last a lifetime.”

  “You don’t have to sell me on it.” I snort. “I’m not hiring you anytime soon.”

  Then I pause, as something occurs to me. “If you were the one pulling the strings for that woman, is that what you were doing with James?”

  Seth’s hesitation is all the answer I need, because of course it was. I start unzipping his jacket again.

  “Wait,” he protests. “You should be flattered!”

  “Because he hired someone to manipulate me into talking to him? Sure, I’m real flattered.” My mind spins, putting the pieces together. “So you coming into my shop was all a ruse? Was your aunt even sick?” I gasp. “Do you even have an aunt?”

  Seth smirks. “Yes, I do have an aunt, and I gave her the flowers. Everything I said about her was true.”

  I give him a sideways glance. “Even the raccoon?”

  He grins. “Especially the raccoon. I couldn’t make that up.”

  I continue to glare at him, and he stares right back, not backing down. The weird thing? I believe him. And not just about the raccoon.

  Finally, he sighs. “OK, fine, it was a ruse to get more information on you, but for a good reason. James really likes you! He just needed some help working up the courage to introduce himself, that’s all.”

  I narrow my eyes. “If he hired you to get to me . . . How does he know me? I never met him before the coffee shop. Did I?”

  Seth shakes his head. “He saw you at a wedding where you were doing the flowers. He noticed you.”

  “And so his next step is to call you up and hire you to engineer a meeting?” I shake my head. “That’s just weird.”

  “Is it, really? He saw you, he felt a spark,” Seth argues. “Maybe he’s shy or busy, or just lacking confidence. He just needed a little help, that’s all.”

  “And then today—him showing up at my place?” I ask, though I think I already know.

  “I saw your ad in the coffee shop. So, I figured . . .” Seth trails off. “In my defense, it worked. You agreed to dinner!”

  I give him some serious side-eye. “That’s not the point. This feels a little stalkery. Very stalkery.”

  “It’s not,” he insists. “Clearly, you made an unforgettable impression. Doesn’t the fact he hired me show that James really cares about seeing you again?”

  I sigh. While it is kind of flattering James was willing to do more than swipe right to get a date with me, it doesn’t ignite a spark. Definitely not like the one that I’m f
eeling for the guy eating a waffle cone beside me.

  Who has basically been secretly stalking me for the past who-knows-how-long.

  Yeah, this is definitely not simple.

  “Well, at least I know the truth now,” I say with a sigh.

  “But you are going to go to dinner with him, right?” Seth asks.

  “Um, nope!”

  “Oh, come on,” Seth argues. “Don’t let this little hiccup ruin what could potentially be a great thing.”

  “Are you working on commission or something?” I shoot back.

  He grins. “No. I just think you guys will get along, that’s all. What do you have to lose? And who knows, maybe you’ll have a good time. He’s a nice guy, a doctor, and he really, really likes you.”

  On paper, James ticks all the boxes, but . . .

  “Just think,” Seth says. “You’ll have a great story to tell your grandkids someday.”

  I snort. “Are you seriously working me this hard? Or are you a romantic who believes all this stuff?”

  He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

  Weirdly, yes. But out loud, I say, “No.”

  “Look, don’t let your clear disdain for me stand in the way of you and James. He made reservations at Gino’s . . .” Seth adds, tempting.

  My mouth waters at the thought. It’s my favorite “I’ve just landed a big job” celebration restaurant, which means I haven’t eaten there in forever.

  “He made the reservations, or you did?” I counter, trying to hold firm.

  “Does it make a difference?” Seth asks, grinning. “The meatballs will still taste the same.”

  “Oh, the meatballs . . .” I sigh with longing. “And they come with that amazing garlic bread . . .”

  “Plus, the tortellini,” Seth agrees.

  “Fine.” I fold. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the tortellini. “I’ll go to dinner. But that’s it,” I warn him. “No more second chances. If we don’t hit it off, you have to stop throwing us together. Stop engineering all these weird meetings.”

  “OK, OK!” Seth agrees, looking way too smug about it. “I promise. But you won’t need another one. You and James are perfect together.”

  I’m not so sure about that, but me and the meatball marinara at Gino’s?