“Veda’s a doctor,” Muffy tells Daisy. “I didn’t finish school. I’m…”
Say something, Jaeger. Say. Something.
Save her.
“She’s a matchmaker,” Veda interjects with a bright smile. “These crepes are delicious. I didn’t know they served crepes here.”
Knowing Daisy, she brought along her own personal chef to take over the hotel’s kitchen. I’d question if these are actually the hotel’s plates and linens except for West’s no-nonsense approach to everything that’s basically the opposite of his wife’s.
Also knowing Daisy, discussing crepes won’t distract her from the more interesting discussion of Muffy’s career. “Fruit salad’s better,” I interject. “You try the pomegranate mango salad?”
“A matchmaker!” Daisy claps her hands. “That’s such a cool job. How many couples have you matched?”
“Daisy, is Remy supposed to be stacking those blocks?” I ask.
He’s one.
Of course he’s supposed to be stacking blocks in the corner after leaving his breakfast mostly untouched. He probably already had breakfast.
How do I know?
Because every time the grandkids come to stay at my parents’ house, they’re always up at the crack of dawn, being fed their breakfast by adults who look like there’s not enough coffee in the world to help them recover from a parenting hangover.
But that’s not the point right now.
Right now, the point is that West is giving me the what in the ever-loving world is wrong with you? look.
No doubt it’ll quickly morph into Oh, your girlfriend sucks as a matchmaker? look, and I don’t want that look, since Muffy gets enough shit in her life for everything else, so instead, I accidentally spill my orange juice.
On purpose. “Oh, shit.”
“Watch your mouth in front of the baby,” West growls.
“Shit. Sorry. Forgot. Shi—sorry.”
Everyone’s diving for napkins, and Muffy’s job is temporarily forgotten.
I don’t actually know how many people she’s matched, but I know it’s not many—three, did she say?—and I know her recent string of successes with the other parts of her matchmaking business isn’t enough to give her the kind of confidence she needs if she’s going to succeed long-term.
“You drunk?” West asks me.
He’s mainlining coffee, which isn’t much of a surprise considering they flew in from Miami last night, and he’s not the night owl his wife is, and see again—parenthood destroys your will to live without caffeine.
“We all have accidents,” I tell him as everyone leaps into action making sure the orange juice doesn’t make it to the carpet.
“I spilled water all over the professors presiding over my board exam,” Veda says.
Daisy nods. “I accidentally smacked a prince in the face with a vodka bottle once.”
I point to her. “If Daisy can try to take out the future leader of a country, then I don’t think I deserve any shi—crap for spilling a little orange juice at breakfast.”
But West is still scowling at me. “Says the man who spends at least an hour during every family cookout following Keely around and asking if she needs a towel yet.”
“She’s needed that towel more times than she hasn’t. Have we ever had a family cookout where Keely didn’t spill or drop something?”
“Do you do mixers with your clients, Muffy?” Daisy asks. “I can’t think of anyplace more likely to have klutzy people than matchmaking socials. People get so nervous.”
“My clientele is already special enough that we don’t risk nerves in group date settings,” Muffy says. “But we do have support group meetings with my clients, and I usually email them all daily, if I can, or whenever I find motivational things that really resonate with me.”
“She’s doing the world such a favor.” Veda beams at her. “She specializes in misfits and socially awkward people.”
“That’s amazing!” Daisy sits back in her chair as we finish cleaning the orange juice. “The world is so lucky to have you.”
Muffy smiles, but it’s pained. “That’s what I hear.”
Once again, I want to shove my fist through someone’s face. I don’t even know whose face this time. Her parents for making her so insecure? Whoever told her that auctioning her virginity was a good idea? Whoever didn’t select her for a residency?
Whoever rejects her clients on a regular basis?
Myself for probably being one of those people who make her feel inferior, and also for probably rejecting her clients at some point?
Daisy refills Muffy’s mimosa. “Do you get invited to the weddings? I love weddings.”
“Weddings are great,” Muffy agrees. “Yours must’ve been beautiful.”
“It was at a drag queen brunch. Didn’t you see the pictures?” Veda starts to blush. “I mean, they were in People. And my office stocks People. Of course I saw the pictures. It looked so fun.”
I poke West. “And I forever get to say that my boring, stodgy old brother got his picture in a gossip magazine for getting hitched by drag queens.”
“Are you boring?” Muffy asks him.
“As stale toast,” he confirms.
“Would you have matched us?” Daisy’s beaming again. She’s basically always a bundle of sunshine, and it’s not usually annoying, but today it is.
“Does it matter?” I ask.
But Muffy’s already answering for herself. “Not unless either of you are completely socially inept.”
“I can’t dance,” West offers.
“That doesn’t make you socially inept.”
“His track record with women prior to Daisy should’ve,” I offer.
And then I dodge, because I know when I’m about to get a plateful of scrambled eggs in my face.
Plus, dodging means I accidentally fall out of my chair, and look at that.
Pain shoots over my bruised ass, but we’re not talking about Muffy’s job anymore.
Also, she’s bending over in her chair and looking at me for the first time since we got here.
It’s bad that I’m almost grateful we had a doorknob mishap.
If we hadn’t, she might’ve found out my wood is still missing.
“Are you hung over?” she asks.
“He’s attempting to get out of seeing more dead bodies,” West replies for me.
“Nerves,” I agree. “I’m a disaster.”
“When he was little, he decided to start a pet-walking business because he wanted to buy flashy new skates, and for once, Mom put her foot down, so he needed his own cash. But he tried to walk all of the dogs at once, and he ended up tied to a neighbor’s tree since all the dogs wanted to pee on the tree and they all kept circling it and getting their leashes tangled. Everyone came out and took pictures for half an hour before anyone thought to go get our parents or sisters.”
A real smile touches Muffy’s lips. “Seriously?”
“I wasn’t tied to the tree. I was pretending because everyone wanted pictures. I was hugging it and hamming it up for a crowd. There’s a difference.”