"My assistant obviously hadn't gotten the update on Ms. Peterson's and my progress," I tell the woman on the monitor, "he was unaware that our second meeting had gone well and that we had begun actively courting."

I watch one perfectly arched eyebrow hike up her forehead in response. Other than that, Raven looks bored with me, or possibly pissed at me. The woman's got a hell of a poker face, I've never gotten the hang of reading her facial expressions.

Her lips silently repeat the word "courting" and I think I see a fleeting smirk on the edge of her lips before she raises her eyes to the camera so it looks like she's staring right at me.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Bennett," she tells me in an ice cold voice, "your assistant did contact me. He did relay the message that you were dissatisfied with Amanda," she pronounces Amanda's first name carefully with a bit of emphasis as if to remind me that Amanda has a first name. I know she has a first name, dammit! And hearing it is like twisting a knife in my gut. "And, since you have insisted on having Rod relay most of your communications with me over the time I've been working with you, you'll understand why I had no reason to suspect his information was less than accurate and directly from you?"

I nod impatiently, "Yes, I understand why you took his message at face value," I tell her. "What I need is your expertise in helping me remedy the situation."

Raven and I have been going rounds all morning. I've always gotten the impression that she doesn't think much of me. I had to do some fast talking to get her to accept my application and take me as a client but I figured money talks.

Marina and Rod both adore the ice queen though. It's like we know two entirely different Ravens.

For the last half hour I have been trying to get Raven to agree to talk to Amanda. To explain what went wrong and convince her to talk to me so we can get back where we were last weekend.

So we can get back to where were headed, I think.

"Christopher," Raven says my name like she's scolding a child, but I could swear her voice also softens a tad, "your communication issues are your own doing and their consequences are yours to suffer or learn from. I see no reason to get involved here."

"I understand that," I tell her, my own voice wavering on the edge of impatient to resigned. Hell, who am I kidding? I prop my elbow on the edge of my desk and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and fingers.

Taking a deep sigh, I raise my eyes back to the computer screen in front of me. I'm about to try changing tack, I don't know. Maybe I'm getting desperate. I'm out of ideas. Rod and Marina both have told me in no uncertain terms that they aren't going to do my "bidding" for me on this one. They refuse to get involved, reminding me that delegating my communications to them is what got me in this mess to begin with.

Amanda won't return my calls. I have no way of knowing if she's reading my texts or listening to my voicemails.

Her brother, Brent, and I hit it off from the beginning. He's a good friend but even he tells me he's not about to go there with his sister. He says he's known her too long to think that's likely to get either of us anywhere with her.

I can see what he's saying. Amanda is strong willed. She's not going to play school yard games with me sending our friends and family to relay messages between us.

Problem is, I have no idea how to get her to talk to me.

Raven is a beautiful woman. I watch her on the monitor, waiting for her to return to our call. She has her back turned to the camera and she's speaking softly and patiently to a little girl who appears to be about 6 years old.

I can't hear what she's saying, but I watch her turn the sobbing child into all bright smiles in an instant with a soothing tone and a kiss to the forehead. The little girl has a trace of Raven's red hair, streaked with blonde and the same delicate arch to her eyebrows, leaving no doubt that she must be one of Raven's own kids.

If I remember right, she's got 4. Their pictures are on display, along with Raven and her husband, on the edge of her desk and the book case behind her that's visible in our video chats but I've never seen any of her family members actually in her office.

Judging by the tears the girl was in when I looked back at the monitor, it must have been a 6 year old emergency to disturb her mother in her office.

I turned to a professional match maker because I wanted a wife and a family.

Yeah. I knew a family would improve my public image. It'd be good for my career as I enter politics. I had a lot of notions about how to spin the wedding to the press, how our announcement that we were expecting would affect my approval ratings.

I imagined the photo shoots for me and my pregnant wife smiling beside me and then the photos that we'd leak to the press when the baby was born. And the next baby. And maybe one more after that.

My eyes watch the small girl bounding out of her mother's office even as Raven adjusts the camera and returns her attention to me.

"I don't give a fuck anymore," I find myself mumbling aloud, "you know?"

I pull my eyes back up to Raven's face, "All that bullshit about finding a wife that the camera adores? Someone that the public is going to fall in love with? Fuck it," I'm barely talking to Raven now, more like thinking out loud, "I want a wife that I'm in love with, you know? If the voters don't like her then fuck them. If it means I don't get into the council, then fuck that too."

When I focus on the computer screen, I notice a look on Raven's face that I've never seen before. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was seeing the sympathetic support of a good friend.

"Chris?" Raven says my name in a soft tone not unlike the one I heard her using with her daughter, it's also the first time I think she's ever addressed me casually.

The sound of her voice brings my attention back to our call, "Yeah?"

Truth of the matter is, I don't even know what Raven could do for me even if she was willing to help. For all I know she's already working on finding Amanda another man.

The thought of Amanda with someone else is like a hot knife through my gut but all I can do is take it. I deserve it. I'm the one who fucked it all up.

Amanda deserves to find what she's looking for-- the reason she hired Raven in the first place. She wants a partner and a family. Something solid to come home to at the end of her day and build a future on.

That could have been me. It could have been us, but I was too busy being busy.

"Are you saying you would prefer a match that was tailored more directly to you than to your career now?"

Raven's scribbling on a paper tablet.

"Actually," I can't go through with another match. I only want Amanda, anyone else that Raven came up with would live in the shadow of Amanda's memory forever. It'd be a lie. I just don't have it in me. "Thank you for all the work you've done, Raven," I tell her sincerely, "I don't think I'm ready to explore another possible match at this time."

God, I sound tired. But then, I feel tired. I think I've aged 20 years in the last week and a half.

Raven is looking at me through the web cam, her hand holding the pen just above the yellow lined paper tablet. Her brows knit together and a crease appears between her eyes as she nods in understanding.

"OK, Chris," she tells me in a warm voice, "I'll have Jessica get started on your refund. If you need anything else, please let me know."

I start to reach for the computer mouse to end the call, then hesitate for a moment, "Raven?"

"Yes?" She answers.

"Could you please let Amanda know that I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding and that I wish things had worked out differently? And give her my best wishes on her future match."

That's hard as hell to say, but I mean it and I'm proud of myself for not choking on the words.

A smile I've never seen spreads across Raven's face, transforming her from a stoic beauty to the woman that I think my sister and Rod must know.

"Of course, I'll be happy to pass that along, Chris," she tells me sincerely, "I'm sure she'll be quite pleased to know you have her best interests in mind."

With that, the call ends and I'm left sitting at my desk to wallow in the emptiest feeling I've ever known.

It's really over. I've lost the only woman I've ever truly wanted and there's no one to blame but myself.