"What do you mean canceled?"

I can hear my sister's stifled sigh from a distance and I know she's pulled the phone away from her ear because I'm yelling.

"Sorry, Chris, it was just too short of notice for her. She couldn't make it."

"You do realize that means it'll be another month before I can meet up with her? Did you explain that to her?"

Another month! Fuck! What kind of woman signs up for an arranged marriage and then wants to wait a fucking month to meet her fiance?

I'd hoped to get this over sooner rather than that. I've already been dicked around long enough by my so-called match maker.

Over priced, snooty, little bitch that thinks she's doing me some sort of fucking favor. For what I paid her, Raven Swann oughta be sucking my dick, not treating me like a charity case.

"Yes, Chris, I know how busy your schedule is. I explained that to Kari but she says her sister absolutely can't do tonight. We rescheduled, it's on your calendar."

"Who the fuck is Kari?" I open my calendar on the desktop and look for the new appointment. I see it highlighted in green, "Six weeks, Mari? Six fucking weeks? I have an opening at the beginning of the month, what the fuck?"

I swear I hear my sister giggle, like she thinks this is funny. Marina does that, she gets a kick out of anything that doesn't go my way.

"You're not the only one with a schedule, you know. Other people have lives and careers and families, Christopher."

"I know I have a family, Marina." Here we go again. My sister's recurring lecture on how I take her for granted. How I take the whole family for granted.

"Do you? Mom and Dad would like to spend just one holiday gathering with all their children present, and your nephews would love to actually spend time with you instead of just unwrapping presents that you probably had Rod pick up for them when their birthdays roll around."

"I'm busy, holidays are busy. I'm expected to make an appearance at a lot of events. I need to be seen and build my reputation as an active member of the community if I hope to get elected when I run."

"Yeah, Chris, we all know you have big political aspirations. We support your plans, but the community will understand if you spend Christmas with your own family now and then. Don't you think your new wife is going to want to see her own family now and then? And kids, Chris! Talk about someone who's going to expect you to be home for holidays and be at their birthday parties and shit."

I'm done talking to my sister. I get where she's coming from, I really do, but I don't have time for it. I don't have time to show up at every single family gathering and I don't have time to listen to her guilt trip about it.

"Six weeks." I say it firmly to get her back on track. "I don't even know if I'm going to marry this one, I was hoping to at least meet her for coffee or something before I had Raven get you guys busy on finding someone else."

"What do you mean you don't know if you're going to marry 'this one?'" Marina's voice goes cold, "Chris, Amanda is not some mail order bride that you pick from a catalog. You don't get to try her on for size and then decide she doesn't match your towels. This is a carefully vetted process and Amanda is the woman that Raven believes will be a good fit for you. Rod and I both interviewed her extensively. She's everything you're looking for. Why would you back out now?"

"I didn't say I was backing out," I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, leaning my elbow on my desk while I try to explain myself to my sister, "I said I'm not sure this Amanda woman is what I'm looking for."

Marina makes a noise on the other end of the line that takes me back to when we were kids. I can't help but crack a smile. I know exactly what look is on her face right now and I know that if we were face to face she's probably punch me.

I'm glad she's 30 miles away in her own home, my sister punches hard.

"You don't even know what you're looking for," she tells me sternly. "You can decide if you're going to keep her or toss her back in six weeks when you've had a chance to actually meet her. If you're lucky, maybe she'll even decide to keep you."

With a grunt that passes as my response and my good bye combined, I end the call.

The thought is ridiculous.

I slide open the right hand desk drawer and pull out Amanda's file.

Looking at the smiling brunette in the picture I almost laugh aloud. She's a far cry from the type of woman I deserve to have on my arm. She looks like your average soccer mom and I'm sure that's what she's hoping to be.

There's so little information about her. It's frustrating. I don't have basic height or weight. I don't know what she does for a living or if she went to college.

I stare at her photo a little harder. I'm not sure how old this photo is, but based on my dealing with Raven, it's probably at least as current as her application for a match.

Amanda Peterson is probably pushing 30, a few years younger than myself and a few years older than I would have liked. Her friends are probably getting married, starting to have kids, and she signed up for an arranged marriage after a few dating app fiascoes that didn't turn into happily ever after so she wouldn't get left behind.

I'm sure she thinks a 7 dollar bottle of wine is the "good" stuff and she probably doesn't go to many restaurants that have more than one fork in a place setting.

Maybe with a personal trainer and a little finishing school, she'd clean up well enough, but I'm not paying a professional marriage broker more money than Amanda here probably makes in a year for a wife that's a fixer upper.

Closing the folder with an annoyed sigh, I toss it back in the drawer and grab my cell off the desk.

"Coffee. Get her in in the next week. She gets half an hour." I text my sister.

There is no way I'm marrying Amanda Peterson, so the sooner we get the obligatory face time over with, the sooner I can get my fucking match maker to find me someone suitable.