Crazy.

Just standing here, was crazy, but it wasn’t the first crazy in all of this.

I had to be certifiably crazy to have agreed to meet with Gerri and her dating agency in the first place.

Don’t you dare chicken out.

I stared at my message from Roxanne, trying to decide how best to respond. I was fairly sure telling her to pipe down was not the best reply considering she was why I was here in the first place.

My bestie, Roxanne, sent me a gift certificate and an appointment with the matchmaker already set up as my birthday gift, or I probably never would have set foot in Gerri’s office. I might be alone, but alone was better than being eaten by a serial killer-cannibal or whoever it is who is loserish enough to need a dating service. Sadly, I fell into that loserish-enough category.

I’m not. I’m even wearing the stupid red dress you told me to wear.

She’d been right, though. It had the magical ability to hug all my curves without making me look like I was wearing a bologna skin.

Are you still at home deciding?

That was the problem with best friends, even those a thousand miles away. They sometimes knew you too well. She wasn’t wrong in her assumption, it was pretty much how I rolled, but I knew that in this case she wasn’t going to let me out of things that easily.

Roxanne always had been a pushy one, probably why I loved her so and why she called incessantly until I agreed to go to the dating service and then again until I promised to actually make it to the date I’d agreed to. My very pregnant friend insisted I would wind up as blissfully married as she if I’d only accept her gift. I finally agreed, but only after reminding her that for all we knew, she would’ve met her hubby anyway.

Fine. She wouldn’t have, but that didn’t make me feel any more comfortable meeting up with a stranger after having the oddest “interview” I could imagine for a matchmaking service. Goodness, I ate homemade cookies and pretty much was asked nothing personal. We talked about her love of baking and her newest assistant because it was apparently a thing that she kept losing them to finding their true loves. She mentioned more than once that she had many clients who liked woman with my look, which I had a feeling was more about my size than the librarian chic I sported.

That in and of itself should have had me running, or so my brain said. My loneliness, however, had me sitting put, nibbling on a cookie as she kept on talking. Truth was, if her services were based on looks, I wasn’t a good fit. I didn’t want a fetish dude who loved excessive curviness without looking beyond that. I was gorgeous, no matter what the fashion magazines said about double-digit-sized women. I wanted someone who’d be interested in what I had to offer and not what I looked like.

I had just about convinced myself to leave when she clapped her hands with glee, telling me she had not one, but two guys worth my time, or, in her words, perfect for me: Curtis and Parker. They both had interesting jobs, Curtis in science and Parker in tech. Being a nerdling myself, I loved that and stayed put as she regaled me with their awesomeness. Then she showed me their pictures, and I caved.

For all I said and truly believed about not wanting someone to pick me based on looks, I had to admit, that was what pushed me over the edge and into the realm of sure, I’ll give it a go. It wasn’t even their muscles and hot nerd qualities that had me all in a fluster, either. It was Parker’s eyes and Curtis’s smile that had me. Of course, Gerri told me she only showed me the pictures so I knew who they were when we met, so I wouldn’t be apprehensive blah blah blah, but we both knew what she was doing. That woman could be persuasive.

I’m here.

Although, from the length of time it had taken me to reply, I doubted she believed me.

Is he hot? And if you’re there, why are you on your phone?

Let me rephrase. I’m here-ish.

Technically, I stood across the street from one of the fanciest restaurant in town, Leo’s, waiting for my first date. Parker had called within an hour of my leaving the interview, which was either the sweetest thing ever or completely creeperish. I hadn’t decided yet, but before I knew it. I was agreeing to a date the very next day. Made it easy for me to decide which of the guys to date first, because I wasn’t the kind of girl to date around. Not that my scruples got me far. They got me to the point where I was agreeing to use a dating service, of all things.

Well un-ish it then.

And there was the Roxanne I’d known most of my life. Her bossiness could be frustrating at times, but, in that moment, I needed it. I’d never admit it to her, but I had been minutes away from calling dinner off and feigning a headache. I could get my own dates. If I put myself out there, anyway, which was probably why Roxanne did this in the first place. I rarely did, and when those times did occur it was usually an accident.

Yes, Mom.

I could practically see her rolling her eyes. I missed her so. I was happy for her amazing new life, but why did it have to be on the other side of the country?

Seriously, girl, have a good time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Roxy was the wild to my boring. Pretty much anything I thought was over the top, she’d done. Of course, this was my idea of over the top, so the bar was low.

So, basically, no sky diving.

It was the one thing I knew she opposed, although I bet if her hubby asked her to, she would. She would do anything for him, and vice versa. Their relationship was sickeningly sweet. I would never admit it to her, but I was all kinds of jealous. Not of her man—he was made for her to be sure— but of what they shared. I wanted that. I just didn’t believe a dating service would be the means to that end.

Yeah, that’s about it. Love ya.

You, too.

I stashed my phone in my clutch before inhaling deeply, crossing the street, and approaching the front door where I was instantly greeted by a doorman. This was so not the same kind of place as the diner I frequented.

“Your party is waiting for you, ma’am.” You know because once you hit thirty you’re old. I bit my tongue, knowing he was going for polite and not insulting. Besides, I had more important things on my mind.

“My party?” I asked as I followed him like a lemming. It felt rude not to, given he was doing his job, even though for all I knew he was taking me to a wedding, or, given the quietness of the place, more likely a funeral or an accountants’ convention. Sadly, I had been to both recently.

He stopped short, turning slightly to face me, “You are Ms. Madeline Solaris.” It was less of a question and more of a Seriously, you’re questioning me?

“I am.” I lowered my head in embarrassment, which was all kinds of ridiculous given the circumstances.

“Then, your party is this way.”

I scampered behind him as we wove our way through the little dining room, where a few couples already enjoyed their meals. I’d never been here before, preferring my restaurants to include prices on their menus, but, taking in the ambiance, I could see the appeal. The room was very homelike, if your home had Tiffany lamps, beautiful art, and a restaurant that probably cost a fortune. Somehow, it still managed to feel cozy and relaxed. I could see the appeal, especially with so few tables. There was something to be said for being able to hear your dinner companion. Maybe. I hoped.

“Right this way, ma’am,” he called to me, as I inadvertently stopped to gawk at a stunning photograph of the leaves in full color during autumn, my favorite time of year.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as he opened a door and walked inside.

As I followed I was expecting to see a secondary dining room but was instead greeted by a private dining room with exactly one table, the man I recognized to be Parker rising from his seat as we made our way over.

“Your party, ma’am. Louis will be by to let you know the evening specials in a moment.” And, with that, he left, giving us not so much as a backward glance.

“I’m Madeline.” I started to give him my hand, before chickening out and leaving it at my side. His picture had done him zero justice. He stood there, dressed more casually than the place dictated, which was a relief since my dress was nice enough but much more retro than high-end.

“Parker.” He pulled out a seat, which I took, my nerves getting the better of me as my knee began to bounce under the table.

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

My head snapped up as the man I recognized to be Curtis strolled into the room. What the freck had I just walked into?