Page 1 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
One
Willow
“I’m retiring,” my mother says as I sit in the chair across from her. “And I’m thinking of selling the business.”
“You’re what?” I stare over the desk at her in complete shock. “Mom, you can’t be serious.”
“It’s time, Willow. Your dad and I want to travel the world while we still have the energy to do it.”
“Okay, fine, but don’t sell the business! My Heart’s Desire is the number one matchmaking service in Chicago! You’ve spent twenty years of your life building it up.” My mother is brilliant and has this innate ability to see a couple’s potential without any explanation. It’s like she sees through all the pretenses and lies, and gets to the heart of what a person really needs.
She sighs. “I know, darling, but I’m not getting any younger, and you’re not getting any better at this.”
It’s the truth, but I feel like I have to defend myself anyway. “I’m still in training.”
“Willow, it’s been three years.”
“It takes time to make a perfect match!”
“I had five marriages under my belt in my first year.”
“Well … I’ve come close a few times, haven’t I?” I don’t actually know if this is true, but I like to think it is. I’ve set up countless clients, followed all of my mother’s directions. I’ve agonized over finding the subtle nuances in interviews that I think a client would appreciate ... but all my matches have been total busts.
I’m clearly a love disaster where my mother is a guru—in work and in life.
“I suppose I could ask Aspen to take it over,” she muses, looking out the window.
“Aspen!” My jaw drops. My mother cannot truly think this is a good idea. I love my sister, but she needs psychiatric help ... or even just a shower and haircut. She took my parents’ hippie mentality and decided it was a life choice, much like being vegan or keto. She feels that she can’t partake in anything that supports the government. Therefore, she lives on my parents’ land, steals—or borrows, if you ask her—their electricity, water, food, and anything else she needs. Then tries to say she’s “living off the land.” I called it being a lazy ass.
And then a month ago, my mother hired her at My Heart’s Desire as an administrative assistant. In that short time, she’s already made two matches!
“Well, if I’m not going to sell it, I need someone to take over. Aspen is so new at this—I was hoping it would be you. In fact, that was the entire point of you coming to work for me. With your business degree, plus my mentoring, I figured it wouldn’t take long for you to be ready, but …” She gives me a pointed look as she trails off.
I sit up taller. “I am ready, Mom. Give me one more chance. I know I can find someone a perfect match.”
She releases another heavy sigh. “And you know, I can’t help but wish that out of all the people for whom I’ve found a soul mate, one of them could be you. I regret not finding your happily ever after. I’m positive that’s your problem.”
Here we go.
The fact that I’d rather be single than settle is a mystery to her. “It’s not a problem, Mom. I’m happy. I don’t currently need or want a man.”
“You can lie to yourself, but not to me.”
It’s actually the truth. It’s not that I don’t believe in love, but I haven’t been able to find it, and yet I’m very happy in my life. I live in a great apartment, I have the best across-the-hall neighbor ever (who also happens to be my best friend), I have plants to take care of, and no need whatsoever for another asshole boyfriend.
If there’s a hole in my world, it’s children. I grew up in the most insane, ridiculous home that ever existed, but I loved my childhood. We owned a beautiful lot up in Michigan with a freaking petting zoo. It was a time filled with new animals and trips out to the woods to search for buried treasure that my father hid the night before. It was sleeping under the stars, swimming in the lake, listening to ghost stories. (Later, it was my sister smoking plants that I’m sure my mother didn’t know she was growing.)
I’ve always dreamed of children, marriage, and the picture-perfect happily ever after, with a little chaos thrown in.
The problem?
I have the worst taste in men ever. I’ll think a guy is great, enjoy the first date, and then he asks for anal or something ridiculous on the second date and ... boom, single again. Yet another example of how much I suck at matchmaking … I can’t even find myself someone worthy of a second date.
But I’ve got a plan to get where I want to be. And while it doesn’t require a husband, it will require me to have a job and an income. Seeing as I don’t have another option lined up, I need to salvage this situation.
I try to redirect. “We’re not talking about me, Mom. We’re talking about the company.”
“Fine, but is it too much to ask for a grandbaby before I’m in a wheelchair?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-two! You act like you’re dying and I’ve failed to give you hope. Plus, we both know that Aspen will probably end up pregnant before me. Lord only knows what the hell goes on in that ridiculous Airstream she lives in.”
My mother smiles wistfully. “Aspen is an old soul.”
“And a hot mess,” I grumble.
She mimics my words from a moment ago. “We’re not talking about your sister, we’re talking about you, my Weeping Willow. You could find love, but you have no prospects because you spend all your time with Reid.”
My mother both loves and hates my best friend.
“I do not spend all my time with Reid.”
“Really? Who were you with last weekend?”
“Reid and I had plans,” I say with indignation. I don’t know why that’s a big deal. He needed help, and I wasn’t busy.
“Okay, and what about Monday night? What did you do?”
I hate where this is going. “I was at home.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
She smiles with fake sweetness. “Who were you with?”
?
