Chapter 6

IS NEW YORK'S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR SUZAN ABRAM’S NEW BEAU?
 Love is in the air! Two days ago, Cristo Caron and Suzan Abrams, daughter of wealthy business owner and ex-congressman Simon Abrams were photographed holding hands outside a bar in the Upper East Side. This is just weeks after Alexakis Enterprise’s CEO ended his on and off again relationship with Blair Halls. It is rumored that it was Caron who pulled the plug on their relationship saying their priorities were not aligned anymore. At first, it seemed as if the drift was caused by popular matchmaker Lilith Mendez but there is no evidence to prove that Mendez and Caron were seeing each other. Credible sources say that they are just friends. 
Whilst it’s probable that Caron could be rebounding with Abrams, we can’t deny that the two look good together. According to fans, they looked pretty much into each other. They haven’t confirmed their relationship status but neither party has denied the rumour either. 
I read the article again as if expecting the words to magically transform into something else. How did they even know Cristo and Caron were there? My team had swept the area for paparazzi and some of the staff posed as customers at the bar to keep a watchful eye for photographers. 
Argh. Of course. A fan must have recognised them and took a picture. In the era of social media, it was impossible to remain anonymous. 
And they think they are into each other? I thought, finding the courage to look at the photo. As stated in the article, Cristo and Suzan were outside the said bar and a limo, possibly Suzan’s, had pulled up. Suzan was laughing at something and Cristo was smiling. His eyes were on her face and he was staring at her like she was the most amazing thing he had ever set his eyes on.  
Fuck. Of course she is. This is Suzan. What did you expect? 
Irritation boiling up my chest like hot lava, I closed the laptop and wedged my hand under the pillow to fetch my phone. 
 “Have you seen what they are saying about them?” I ranted. “What’s wrong with these bloggers? Don’t they have more interesting things to focus on? You know, issues that really benefit us? Like… the advantages of tax hikes on the upper class folk?”
“Who is them?” Lyra asked.  
“This is not the time to play dumb with me,” I warned. “You are the social media guru so you know who.” 
“Cristo and Suzan?” Lyra laughed. Did she think it was funny? “I saw the alerts but haven’t read the whole story yet. Did they mention us?” 
“What do you mean, us?”
“Our company. Do they know we are behind it?”
“No, they didn’t give credit to the damn matchmaker who was selfless enough to set them up. But that’s not the point and you know it.” 
“It’s not. Sorry.” Lyra sounded distracted. She was always multitasking. 
“So, what’s your honest opinion of them? Do you think they are perfect for each other?” Even Holly could hear the desperation in my voice. She looked up to give me a pitiful look. Thank God it was only Lyra. She understood me more than I understood myself. 
“What?” Lyra laughed. “Lilith, you and I both know that’s not how love works. They have to go on several dates to figure that out for themselves.”
I hated that her words reassured me. “I know.” 
“Lilith…”
“Lyra, I don’t want to hear any of it,” I interrupted. “Not today, please.”
I knew what was coming. Lyra wanted to ‘talk some sense’ into me but I wasn’t in the mood for her pep talks. Well, her version of invigoration was using logic to pull me from minor depression. I predicted it would go along the lines of you brought this on yourself or better yet, you need to tell Selene that you aren’t comfortable doing this. 
That morning, I intended to drink coffee with only my thoughts to keep me company. Most days, I was strong and I didn’t need to vent. I would go about my day completely unfazed. Some days, sad feelings rose up, attacking me in waves and I found myself taking out my frustrations on Lyra or anyone else who had the misfortune of interacting with me. 
Whilst I was aware that I couldn’t press a rewind button and alter the decisions I made, I couldn’t bring myself to temporarily suspend the events of the past few days from my mind. I wanted to feel the pain for a change. 
People were always accusing me of numbing the emotions that I didn’t want to face. As a case in point, Kathryn’s diagnosis of my condition was emotional detachment disorder. She said that because of my trauma, I had formed a self-destructive habit of shutting out emotions and tucking away issues with the pretext of dealing with them later. According to her, the first step in the road to recovery was coming to terms with what had happened in my previous relationship. Next, I had to deal with problems in my private life instead of walking away from them. 
I didn’t completely disagree with Kathryn. Like any other patient, I wanted to recover from my condition and be normal again. I was willing to do everything she suggested but it was easier said than done. I couldn’t revisit the nightmare that Mark had put me through. The memories were dumped in a dark, extremely harrowing part of my mind. If I went there, I would go nuts. 
A mental breakdown could cost me everything. My whole life would fall apart. Lyra would be forced to commit me to a mental institution and she would have to take over the operations of the company. I didn’t have the slightest doubt that my business would be in good hands. Better hands probably. However, starting a company from scratch and then failing to reap the fruits of my labour defeated the purpose. Who knew how long I would be locked up there? Years probably. 
The stakes were high so I decided to formulate a plan that suited me better. Breaking bad habits was tough.
Now that I had the time, I intended to experiment with Kathryn and basically everyone else’s advice. What did I have to lose? Maybe the results would surprise me. Perhaps wallowing in self-pity the whole weekend was the answer to lifting the heavy feeling in my chest. I could wear old sweats, eat chocolate, watch sad romantic movies and read every post about the newest couple in town. I could cry and feel sorry for myself. By the time Monday came, I would have exhausted all the tears. I could then pick myself up and focus on helping my clients find true love. 
“I just have one thing to say,” Lyra insisted. “No one else will.” 
I was silent. 
“When you agreed to work with Selene, you had to know this day would come. This is just the beginning, Lilith. You should get used to seeing them together. You know, just so you won’t be so heartbroken when they tie the knot.”
“Lily,” I said sternly. “I said not today.” 
“Okay,” she backtracked. “Let’s focus on the money then. That should cheer you up.” 
 “There is that,” I said, trying to match her enthusiasm. “Maybe I will even take a proper vacation after this.” 
“You want me to come over?” She offered. “You won’t think about them if you are distracted.” 
“No.” 
“Suit yourself,” she said. “Call if you need me.” 

I gave myself two hours to be miserable. Thankfully, there weren’t many articles about Cristo and Suzan. There was no news about Blair or I either. The bloggers were simply duplicating information. At some point, I got bored and searched Suzan on Instagram. She didn’t post frequently but she had over one million followers. 
Most of her updates were rather formal. Her private life was kept away from the spotlight so it was just pictures of her receiving awards and donating to charity. There was one of her from a year ago where she partnered with well known company and donated learning materials to schools in Senegal. That didn’t come as a surprise though, seeing that she was an all rounded person. 
As I continued to stalk her, the impassioned jealousy I felt towards her was replaced by admiration. She reminded me of Selene when I first saw her. The only difference was that it was just an act for Mrs. Caron but for Suzan, she had genuine compassion for the kids.
  
I wasn’t planning to see Hugo for another week but finding myself with nothing else to do, I asked him to meet me for lunch.  By the time I walked into the restaurant, he was already seated and his order had arrived. Knowing him, he was probably only around the block when I called. 
 “You look nice,” he said when he saw me. Instinctively, I stared down at my outfit. It was a low cut, sleeveless jumpsuit that showed off the little bit of cleavage I had. I paired it with heels and I had to admit it looked great on me. 
“Hello to you too,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. For someone who had comebacks for all situations, I was yet to learn how to accept compliments especially if they came from a man and he was referring to my appearance. 
“Hi, Lilith.” Like the gentleman he liked to pretend to be, Hugo stood to pull my chair out for me.  
I sat down. “Hi, Hugo.”
He dropped his fork to cast me a deliberate stare. 
“What?” I shrugged. “You said hi and I said hi back. Isn’t that an acceptable response?” 
“Fine,” he surrendered.  “So, what did I do to deserve a few precious minutes of your time? The last time we spoke, you were certain I wouldn’t be able to fit in with your schedule anytime soon.” 
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I glanced at the menu. “I just want us to go live as soon as possible.” 
 “And here I thought you called because you missed me,” he said, feigning disappointment. 
I knew he was mostly joking but did he have to use every opportunity to remind me he had non-platonic feelings for me? The two of us would never happen. When was he ever going to get that through his thick skull? He was a matchmaker for christ sake. Hadn’t he learnt anything from watching a client obsess over unrequited love?  
I bashed the menu card on the table, earning glares from the couple occupying the next table.  “If you don’t stop with your smartass comments, I’m leaving.”
  “It was a joke. Geez,” Hugo said, nonplussed. 
 In that exact second, the waitress came to take my order and casually threw a concerned look at Hugo. I read the menu again and finally settled for a milkshake. I was too tense to eat a real meal.  
 “So, bring me up to speed, Lily.” 
“Lilith,” I corrected, yet again. “You know what, just forget it. Call me whatever you want.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Did I look sad? That would be a first. Lyra was always teasing me that I had two moods. I was either angry or smug. Never despondent or happy. 
“No offence but you are grumpier than usual,” he replied. “It’s like you are stressed or something.” 
I rolled my eyes to let him know how ridiculous he sounded. “Can we please focus on the agenda of this meeting?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “With pleasure.”
Leaning to reach for my sling bag, I opened it and grabbed my tablet. I then searched for the folder that contained office files and tapped on the first document. 
“This is what I have been working on.” I slid the tablet across the table. “There isn’t much left. Maybe a few tweaks here and there we are ready to publish.” 
His eyes briefly glanced over the document. “We will be interviewing the matchmakers?” 
“Yeah. It’s more of a routine actually. They are invited by a fellow trusted matchmaker, remember?” 
“I know. But that’s all?” 
“Yeah?” I laughed. “What else can we do? Grill their partners?” 
“If we have to.” Hugo sounded serious, to my amusement. 
I was taken aback. Were we still looking at the same page? 
“They are renowned matchmakers, shouldn’t their reputation speak for them?” I asked. 
“Yeah but fame doesn’t exactly translate to integrity,” he argued. “We have to be thorough.” 
I sipped on my milkshake as I pondered over his statement. 
“Lily.” He leaned across the table. “The goal here is to change the way things are done. To foster a new culture among matchmakers. That’s the only way we are going to differentiate ourselves. Otherwise, we will just be a group of opportunistic matchmakers who want to exploit the pockets of the rich. We won’t be any different from our clients.” 
He had a point. 
“So how do we go about it?” 
The chartreuse eyes brightened and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he formed new ideas. 
“They should present their statistics,” he said. “Rates of divorces, break ups and the average amount of time it takes them to find a client the right match.” 
“Divorce?” I asked. “Hugo, you can’t blame a matchmaker for a client’s mistakes. You can’t apply textbook logic on love. No one is perfect.”
“That’s not it,” he disagreed. “Look at it this way. If a doctor diagnoses a patient correctly and he or she takes the medicine as prescribed, the condition shouldn’t worsen, right?”
I nodded. “I still don’t get your point.” 
“Like a doctor, the matchmaker should use the information provided by a client to assess their personality and introduce them to someone who compliments them,” he explained. “That person doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“So you are saying the matchmaker is accountable?” 
“To a reasonable extent, yes.” 
“But that doesn’t explain how someone can excel in this career if most relationships don’t make it to the altar,” I challenged. 
He beamed. “That’s the thing. Rich people rarely blame the matchmaker. Not with all the filthy secrets they are holding above each other’s heads. They focus on the symptom, not the cause.” 
“It’s the change we are talking about.” I smiled, finally piecing it together. “Our club will target clients who genuinely want to be in relationships. Not kids who are being forced by their parents.” 
“Rebels.” 
“Badasses.” 
We both burst into laughter. Hugo’s chest vibrated with a deep laugh which came to an abrupt stop.
“Laughter looks good on you, Lilith.” His eyes carried a streak of adoration and I found myself staring back. Our faces were close now and I faintly felt his big hand covering mine. It was gentle but strong. The warmth that enveloped my skin sent shivers down my spine, taking me by surprise. Goosebumps sprung up my arms as I felt his hand traveling further up. 
“Hugo.” It came out as a whisper. My mouth was moving but my eyes were still, unblinking and unwilling to break the trance. 
Listen to me. I pleaded inwardly. 
“Hugo,” I repeated. My voice was stronger this time. “What are you doing?”
He came to his senses too and released my hand. 
“I’m sorry,” he said as he leaned back on his chair, his eyes not meeting mine. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Yeah. Don’t ever do that again.”  
He turned to face me. “Why? Because you are afraid that if you let down your guard, you will love me? Is that what scares you?”
I didn’t know how I felt about Hugo. Did I like him? Maybe. Did I like him enough to try and see where it would lead us? No. Perhaps he was just comfort food. Someone to occupy my mind whilst I moved on from Cristo. A potential rebound. 
Maybe giving him a chance did scare me but not in the way he meant. If I allowed myself to figure out what I felt for him, I risked finding out that it wasn’t enough to pursue a relationship. There was no denying Hugo would be hurt the most if things didn’t work out between us. It wasn’t fair. He was my friend. Well, sort of. 
 Besides, what example would we be setting for our clients? How could they trust their coaches to lead them in the right path of love when their own love lives were messy? And more importantly, what would Cristo think? Sure he had Suzan but… what if? What if a part of him still cared? 
It was so wrong on many accounts. For once, I wanted to use my brain not my heart. 
“No,” I said defiantly. Opening my leather wallet, I selected a few bills and placed them on the table. I then pushed back my chair and walked towards the exit without looking back.