The clock on my desk reads six sharp. It wasn’t supposed to be my typical Friday night where I go home and chill while watching the Hallmark Channel. Nor was it meant to include a pint-sized carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream for dinner. Nope, it was meant for my best friend, Paxton, and me to have dinner, catch up on the last four months, and listen to all the things that he’s seen since the last time he was here in New York. I had our whole weekend planned like I usually do when he gets to come visit. Except now, I have new plans that include my two girlfriends. It was a last-minute decision this afternoon when Paxton texted to tell me that he was off on another adventure. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he’d be able to come home this weekend, but I was hoping to see him after he wrapped up this last assignment. He’s been doing an article on national parks for the previous four months. This has had him circling the United States, week in and week out. Between his traveling and my working, there’s been no Belle and Pax time. When I received his text, I immediately contacted Brooke and Miranda for an evening in.

The three of us met our second year at Columbia University. I call it fate since that’s the same year Paxton left to start living his life without me. Brooke, Miranda, and I knew each other, but our friendship grew the moment I hugged Paxton goodbye at the security check line at JFK. It was the first time in sixteen years that I wouldn’t be able to see him every day. The first time that I had to become Annabelle Quinn, and not Belle and Pax. Still to this day, I say he had something to do with Brooke and Miranda befriending me when they did, but they all deny it. Either way, I suppose I ended up with the best deal of it all. I have three best friends who love me unconditionally. One just happens to always be miles away. Not to mention he took my heart all those years ago when he left. This is why I have trouble dating, but I would never tell anyone this. I keep that little secret to myself. Actually, that’s a lie. Brooke and Miranda know, only because one drunken night I let the cat out of the bag. Other than them, there’s no reason to air it out to the world. The thought of losing him because I let my heart get in the way isn’t even something I can comprehend. Paxton knows me better than I know myself most days. He knows my fears, my dreams, and, most of all, how to make me smile. The one thing he doesn’t know is that the smiles don’t come as often as they used to. When he’s gone, I feel like I’m missing half my soul. Growing up, everyone who knew us thought we would end up married. Guess the joke’s on them now.

Paxton told me years ago after his parents got divorced that he never wanted to see the hurt he did in his father’s eyes when his mother left them. That also happened to be the same day that I was going to lay it all out. I’d finally found the courage to tell him that I loved him, but when I knocked on his door that Saturday morning in our junior year of high school I shut it down faster than a greyhound chasing a fake rabbit around the track. I knew that no matter what I said to make him believe in true love and soul mates—it was long gone. Instead of acting on my feelings, I pushed them down so far that at times I can forget. Then when he’s here, I’m reminded of all the reasons I can’t find someone to love. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s because you can’t give your heart away to another person when you already did years ago. It doesn’t work that way. If you ask Brooke or Miranda, they say it’s because I’m a hopeless romantic who watches far too many romance movies or reads too many books. This also brings me to why I became a matchmaker… I believe in love for others and when I find that perfect match for one of my clients, my heart swells. Just don’t ask me to find myself a man.

I tried…

It failed…

Never again will I look for a date with my clients.

"Annabelle, you leaving soon? It's the weekend," comes from my nosey co-worker’s mouth as she stands in the doorway of my office. Before responding, I take in the mound of paperwork that I still need to go through before Monday circles back around and check the clock again.

"Soon. I promise," comes out with a long heavy sigh.

"Okay, but you do realize it's Friday and you're what, twenty-six? Which means you should be out on a date, not sitting here working." Instead of responding, I set my pen down and glance back up at her. She's right, but instead of going out to a dingy club, I’m having a girls’ night in; that should count for something, right?

“I’ll see you Monday,” I say with a fake smile splayed across my face as she turns to leave. One more glance at the time. I shove my files into my briefcase. With my plans now changed, I can do a little catch-up over the weekend. It’ll keep my mind occupied with anything other than Paxton.

---

Brooke, Miranda, and I have been sitting in my living room sipping on wine and eating pizza for the last few hours. Listening to them talk about work, family, and even the spring we’ve been having has taken my mind off things. Neither of them has asked the reason behind the impromptu girls’ night. Or how I knew they would both be free on a Friday evening. Just when I think I’m lucky, Brooke sits her wine glass down on my coffee table, turns her body more toward me, and locks eyes with mine. I grab the pillow between us, plopping it down in my lap like it’s going to prevent her from speaking. No luck as this pillow hasn’t magically grown powers and lifted me into another universe yet.

“I take it Paxton canceled on you?”

“No, what makes you say that?”

Miranda jumps in. “Uh… Let’s see, today’s date is circled on your calendar and there’s an x and o on the date. Which is code for Paxton.”

“How do you even know what’s on my calendar?”

Miranda’s shoulder flies up and plops back down before she explains, “I looked.”

“That simple, huh? That could be code for flow.”

This time Brooke takes over. “Cut the crap, Annabelle. We’ve known you long enough to know what it means, and flow came a week ago. What was his excuse this time?”

“Fine… You’re both right and, as usual, work. He said something about getting a text from his boss about some incredible once-in-a-lifetime event in Japan. I think that’s where he’s headed, but I stopped reading after that.”

“When are you going to just toss in the towel? You need to either stop worshipping him, or tell him,” Brooke explains as she grabs her glass and leans back.

Replaying her words in my head, I drag my lower lip through my teeth. My mouth opens and closes just as quick. I don’t have the words to respond to her statement. The mere thought of giving up on a future with Paxton scares the living hell out of me. Back in high school when I shoved my feelings aside, I’d always thought there would come a day where I could explain them to him. I thought that over the years he would let his heart open back up and be willing to let love in. The older we get, the more I realize this is never going to happen. But giving up on us isn’t in the cards. I’d rather have him as my best friend for the rest of my life than to never have him. We might not get to have nights like Brooke, Miranda, and I are having tonight, but when we do they mean something. Each text, each conversation, or FaceTime means something. We’ve learned over the years how to make the most of it all. If Paxton’s deep in a jungle during a holiday or birthday, he finds a way to communicate with me that day. He’s never missed one, and neither have I.

Glancing up at the two of them, I finally let my voice open up. “I could never give up on him. The two of you should know this more than anyone. I’d rather die alone than never have him in my life. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen, and if not then he’s still my best friend.”

“I get that he’s the only guy you’ve ever loved, but have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re hot as hell, Annabelle, and instead of living and searching for a new love, you’re wasting it away for nothing.”

I let Brooke’s words sink in some. She’s always been vocal about my feelings for Paxton, unlike Miranda who understands and at times agrees to disagree with me. My eyes travel down my body, taking it in. I wouldn’t classify myself as hot as hell, but I’m cute. Just like anyone, I could pick apart my body and wish that my five-foot-seven frame was taller. That my golden-blonde hair was brown and wavy instead of straight. That my forest-green eyes were blue and captive like the island waters that Paxton has taken pictures of over the years. That my creamy complexion was more of a deeper exotic tan from lying under the baking sun for hours. Instead, I compare myself to me—Annabelle Quinn: the friendly, outgoing, hopeless romantic who’s hiding behind her job.

“Whatever, Brooke; I’m not hot but cute. What do you want me to do? What would make you back off some and realize that I only have one soul mate in this world and he just so happens to hate love?”

“Date. Pull out your phone, create an account or look in your magical database at work. Give it a real go, not just a half-ass one like you normally do. Or, how about let’s go out and get crazy.”

“It’s almost ten in the evening; I’m not leaving or changing out of these yoga pants.”

“See, that’s our point right there. Screw those pants and slap on a skirt and heels. Let’s go get crazy for once. Or is Little Miss Annabelle scared that we might be right,” Brooke challenges while not breaking eye contact with me. She knows how to get under my skin, and dang her for it.

“You want to go out? Then let’s do this. I can have fun. I used to be the life of the party.” Standing, my hands find my hips as my eyes flit between the two of them.

“When were you the life of the party? Was this before we knew each other?” Miranda asks and earns a death glare as I head toward my bedroom in search of an outfit that will play up the game a little more tonight. I’m sure by the morning I’ll end up cussing them some and then going back on my word. But for tonight, I’ll allow the fun side of life to take over. They both have made solid points this evening. I need to decide if I want to waste the rest of my life loving someone who will never want to settle down. Or finding someone who will love me for who I am while accepting the fact that I have a male best friend. How does that even work? Can this be possible? Stepping back out into the living room, I notice that both of them are freshening up their makeup and have changed clothes. When they notice that I’ve joined them, Brooke lets out a low whistle. It hits me that they were already prepared for this act tonight. I just got played by them.

“Did you both have clothes in your purses?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Brooke explains as Miranda just shrugs it off like this is how she arrived.

“Fine, let’s go before I change my mind.”

One last look in the mirror by the front door, I pull up at the silky material draped over my shoulder. Instead of wearing a dress, I settle on a pair of black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder gray chiffon top paired with a pair of gray heels. Just as the elevator doors close, my phone vibrates in my hand. I can’t help the smile that dances when I see that it’s Paxton calling.

“Don’t answer it! Send him to voicemail or I’ll make you go out every night with me for a month.” Brooke’s voice is stern, letting me know she means business.

“Why?”

“Because as soon as you answer, you’ll change your mind or be in a mood all night. Tonight is about three friends going out to have a great time. That means the one who has a penis isn’t allowed to join in on the fun tonight. You can do this, hit the red button.”

Blowing out all the air in my lungs, I tap the reject button and decide to turn my phone off before putting it back inside my clutch. I know that he’ll leave me a message, and if I don’t call back within an hour Paxton will call again. Instead of having to force myself to ignore him, it’s better that the phone stays off until I arrive back home.

“I’m proud of you, Annabelle,” Miranda approves while leaning her head down on my shoulder.

“Why?”

“Because you’re letting loose, if only for one night, and you rejected his call which I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do.”

“Do you think he knows I sent him to voicemail.”

“Yep, and it serves him right.”

I can’t help but laugh at Miranda’s comment. I just hope that by morning I’m still laughing.