Logical Love had potentially paired hundreds of clients over a twelve-month period who weren’t supposed to be together, and she and Tom had also matched during that time. Had their eighty-four percent compatibility score been incorrect, a mistake thrown out by a problem in the system? Was their true score really much lower?
The sixty percent was still a decent enough match but one Carla wouldn’t have considered, especially after Aaron. It meant she and Tom were actually forty percent mismatched. And didn’t his decision to visit a game convention in Denver before their wedding prove that?
She tried to wrench the possibility from her mind.
Carla wiped her face with the cuff of her blouse, scratching her face on a button. She stared at all her cards and flowers, and they made her feel like a fraud. Her clients had relied on her, trusted her with their hopes, dreams and futures, and she worried she’d let them down badly. How many couples had she set on the wrong path with the wrong partner? How many would end up like her and Aaron, torn apart and miserable?
Jess tried to take hold of her arm. “You okay?”
“Oh yes, I’m absolutely marvelous, thanks. Never better.” Carla jerked her body away. Failing hundreds of couples was terrible, and a doubt was also spreading in her mind like algae on the surface of a stagnant pond. It was something Myrtle had warned her about and which Carla had vehemently denied.
Tom was no longer her ideal match.
Was she about to walk down the aisle with the wrong man, all over again?
Seven
Red Dress
Carla shoved her arms into her coat sleeves and rushed out of the building, ignoring Jess’s shouts for her to return. Her sister’s deceit was too painful to contemplate and she couldn’t face spending another second in the same vicinity as her. She couldn’t believe her own team had hidden things from her, even if they thought it was the right thing to do at the time.
She hurried through the streets with tears streaming down her cheeks. A corner of the park provided a brief respite and she sat on a bench facing the trees, gulping deep breaths of air and trying to force herself to get a grip.
Carla had always been good at math, able to see patterns and formulas that others couldn’t. She liked things that could be explained, things that had reason and were tangible. As a child, fairy tales had thrown up too many questions for her pragmatic mind, such as why didn’t Cinderella leave her stepsisters and get a job with employers who appreciated her skill set more? And why did princesses pin their hopes on marrying for money rather than setting up their own businesses?
She and Jess used to have heated debates about such matters.
“If stories have endured through time there must be some truth in them, or else people wouldn’t pass them on,” Jess said.
“You can’t prove these things actually happened,” Carla argued. “Think about it, Jess, no one ever wore glass slippers.”
“You can’t prove that. Perhaps they did.”
The sisters usually reached a stalemate, resulting in Jess flouncing to their shared bedroom to look at her angel cards and Carla scribbling notes on why she was right.
She tried to apply her realistic thought process to her current situation. Telling herself Tom was still her perfect partner meant overriding her faith in the matchmaking system she’d created.
Carla loved Tom and she tried to ignore the worries that were muddying her emotions. She desperately wanted to see him so they could talk things through logically.
She waited until her emotions settled down a little, tied her hair into a tighter bun and briskly walked over to his apartment. Her hand shook as she opened the door, and even more so when she saw Tom standing in the middle of his hallway, a suitcase parked at his side.
“Hey, you,” he said, moving forward for a hug. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Didn’t you see my missed calls?”
“I’ve been at work, trying to sort something out.” She tucked her head under his chin, relishing the beat of his heart against her cheek.
“Are you okay?” He pulled back to look at her. “You look upset. Is it your family again?”
“No...well, yes.” Carla’s eyes settled on the passport sitting on top of his suitcase and she chose to ignore it. “I need to talk to you.”
He looked at his watch. “I don’t have long. A guy from the convention has been in touch. A client canceled, meaning there was a spare flight ticket available. It will save me a lot of money and I get to fly business class, too.”
The excitement in his voice made Carla feel even more wretched and her throat ached when she spoke. “When are you leaving?”
“Now. My Uber is going to be here in four minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “Um, three...”
“Oh.” Carla dropped her arms to her sides. How could she tell Tom about the issue at work, their mismatch and Jess’s deceit in such a minuscule amount of time?
“Sorry. I did try to reach you,” he reiterated. “What did you want to talk about?”
She swallowed her words away. “It’s fine, probably nothing.”
“Are you sure? I can cancel the cab...”
“Yes.” The word sounded strangled when it came out of her mouth and every part of her wanted to yell no instead. She needed him more than some crappy boardgame convention, but she didn’t want to spoil his opportunity. “It’s a surprise you’re going so soon, that’s all.”
Tom kissed the top of her head and smoothed a lock of hair off her forehead. “You look a bit tired, probably overworking as usual. Why don’t you take a break somewhere, too? See if Jess wants to go somewhere nice for a few days? Maybe a girls’ weekend away to relax?”
“I really don’t want to—”
Tom’s phone pinged to say his Uber had arrived. He tugged his suitcase onto the path outside and Carla followed him. “I’ve left something for you on the coffee table,” he said, pressing his lips against hers. “You can play it while I’m away.”
“Thanks.” Her voice sounded blank.
“I’ll call you when I get there, probably tomorrow because it’s a long flight. Please don’t forget to lock up for me.”
She waved to him from the front step, then wrapped her arms across her body as his taxi disappeared around the corner.
Inside the house, Tom had finished a prototype of his board game and had left it on the coffee table. There was a tiny paper sunhat and a passport with her name written on the front. The game was beautifully crafted, a fine display of his talent.
