Rules Of Engagement

34

Finally, when we’re turnin’ down the street to his place, he speaks.

“She’s an innocent.”

I ain’t exactly sure what that means, so I keep my trap shut and wait.

Mason takes a breath. “She’s just… good. Kind. She wants other people to be happy. That’s like her whole f*****g thing. Her whole life. Getting people together, helping them find someone to take

care of them, making sure they’re okay. She actually believes all that stuff about true love.”

He pauses, then says faintly, wonder in his voice, “She really believes it.”

Unsure how to answer, I decide to be Switzerland and stay neutral. “Yep.”

When he speaks again, his voice sounds tortured. “And it’s not like she’s had this perfect fairytale life, either. Did you know her parents were killed in a car crash when she was a teenager?”

When I look at him in surprise, he nods. “Yeah. And she was in the back seat. How’d you like to survive the crash that killed both your parents?” His voice rises. “And how do you walk away from something like that and not have it ruin you? How can you still be so positive?”

His volume goes up another notch. “How can life f**k you over like that and you still want to take some asshole you just met bowling so he doesn’t have a drink?” He roars, “And you don’t even know how to bowl!”

“Uh…”

“And she sticks up for midgets who aren’t even there!” “Uh…” s**t. I got nothin’.

“And she sticks up for you when you’re tearing yourself down! And she’s funny and real and likes

Harry Potter and is one of only two people in the whole world who isn’t afraid of you!”

He turns to me, eyes wild. “What am I supposed to do with all that?”

Oh boy. We got a meltdown on our hands. We just slammed right into DEFCON 1. Nuclear war is imminent.

I count to three and say a prayer to the holy trinity of Joe Montana, Johnny Unitas and Peyton Manning before I answer. “If she bothers you so much, the best thing is to stay away from her.”

He stares at me with crazy eyes for a long, tense moment, until finally all the anger drains out of him. He exhales, turning to look out the window.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “That’s it, then. Call her tomorrow and tell her we’re going with a different matchmaker.”

“Will do, champ.”

Oh, I’m gonna make a call, all right. Except not to Little Miss Sunshine.

Here’s how it works, ladies and gents. You tell yourself a story long enough, you start to believe it. Even if it’s not true. Even if it’s absolute bullshit. And the story Mason’s been tellin’ himself his whole life is that he deserves all the bad s**t that’s happened to him. That he’s rotten to the core, a magnet for disaster, unloved and unlovable, despite any evidence to the contrary.

Because hating yourself is the only acceptable option if the alternative is hating the person who was supposed to love you the most.

So no matter how much he might want to turn toward the light and let a kind and soft-hearted girl into his life, he’s not gonna let it happen without a fight.

Which I knew goin’ in.

Lucky for him, he’s got fairy godfather d**k on his side.

And I’m about to wave my magic wand and sprinkle a shitload of pixie dust all over the place.

17

MADDIE

W

hen I walk into the office on Monday morning, Auntie Waldine is already there, sitting behind the reception desk. She’s hunched over the phone with the intense concentration of a hostage negotiator.

“Uh-huh,” she says, sending me a distracted wave as she continues her conversation. “Goodness. I see. Honestly, I have to confess it doesn’t surprise me one bit.” A short pause is followed by a cryptic, “I have my ways.”

I bypass her desk and enter my office. As is her custom, my aunt has already poured me a mug of hot coffee. It waits for me, steaming, on my desk.

One of the benefits of sticking to an inflexible schedule is that others can always rely on you to arrive exactly on time.

As I get myself settled and fire up the computer, Auntie Waldine continues her conversation. Her answers are spaced with pauses as she listens to whomever is talking on the other end.

“I agree, but Lord knows, looks can be deceivin’. Mmhmm. Oh, no, she’d have a dyin’ duck fit.” A delighted cackle. “Land’s end, you’re so right!”

She’s gossiping with her best friend, Celia, no doubt. The two of them are thicker than thieves.

When the other line rings, I pick it up so she can continue talking.

“Good morning, Perfect Pairings. This is Maddie speaking. How may I help?”

“Good morning, Madison,” says a male voice I recognize. “Did I catch you at a convenient time?”

I lean back in my office chair, pick up my mug of coffee, and blow across the surface. “You did. I just walked in. How are you, Bobby?”

“Excellent, thank you. Glorious weather we’re having, isn’t it? Perfect day for croquet.” He tries, Lord knows he tries, but the man is hopeless.

“Yes, it is. How’s your mother?”

His bright tone falters. “There isn’t much the doctors can do except make her comfortable. She’s in hospice care now. At this point, it’s only a matter of time.”

I know how difficult this must be for him and feel terrible about it. He and his mother have always had a close relationship. She’s a sweet woman. And being an only child, he’s going through this alone.

At least I had my older brothers to lean on when my parents died. Bobby has no one.