I'm going to have to sit across from him and ask about handcuffs and I'm going to spontaneously combust.
Harper
ask him if he's a top or a bottom and report back
Emmy
Why did I pick you
Harper
because I'm the best. text me after, I need to know EVERYTHING
Emmy set her phone down and stared at the ceiling. First things first. Review Madeline. Meet with Grant. If she survived the embarrassment of asking him about his bedroom preferences, get him to agree to a date sometime during the next century.
One crisis at a time.
The door chimed and Emmy looked up into a familiar face—Cole Weston, Harper's theoretical perfect match. His expression brightened when he spotted her, that open, genuine smile that had first made Emmy think he'd be great for someone who needed steadiness instead of chaos. He made his way over, coffee already in hand.
"Emmy. I was hoping I'd run into you." He slid onto the stool across from her. "Can I ask you something? About Harper?"
Emmy's matchmaker instincts flickered to life, pushing aside the morning's humiliation. "Of course."
"I've been on the apps for months now. You learn to read the signs, you know? When someone's just being polite." Cole shrugged, but there was genuine concern in his eyes. "We've been texting, but she seems... distracted. Short responses. Like she's not really there. I like her. I want to get to know her better. But I can't tell if I'm imagining things or if she's actually not interested."
Emmy thought about Harper passing by Elite Connections "on her way to work"—six blocks out of her way—just to see Ryan. About the coffee Ryan had brought her on his day off.About the way Harper's whole face had lit up when she'd mentioned him, even while insisting Cole was the better choice.
"Can I ask you something honest?" Emmy said.
"Sure."
"When you talk to Harper, does it feel easy? Natural? Or does it feel like work?"
Cole considered this. "It feels like... potential. Like we could be great together if she'd just let me in." He grinned, self-deprecating. "Plus she's really hot. That doesn't hurt."
Potential. The word Harper kept chasing in all the wrong men. Except this time, Harper wasn't the one chasing it—Cole was.
"That's not the same thing," Emmy said gently. "All relationships take effort, don't get me wrong. But the connection itself shouldn't be something you have to work for. When it's right, you don't have to convince yourself it could be great. It just is."
Cole's expression went wry—no self-pity, no defensiveness, just honest acceptance. It reminded Emmy why she'd liked him for Harper in the first place. "You're saying she's not interested."
"I'm saying she might not be the right match for you. And you deserve someone who lights up when she sees your name on her phone, not someone who's just being polite." Emmy reached across the table and touched his arm briefly. "I'm sorry. I really thought you two might work."
"Yeah." Cole let out a long breath. "Me too." He finished his coffee, then stood, managing a rueful smile. "Hey—keep me in mind if you find someone who might be a better fit? I'm not giving up on the whole love thing just yet."
"I will," Emmy said.
He left. She added his name to the mental list of people she'd somehow let down this week. It was getting long.
A calendar reminder slid across her screen:
Madeline Talbott - coffee meeting, 2PM.
Three hours. She had three hours to pull herself together.
Emmy relocated to a corner table, spread out her laptop and notes, and tried to focus. She pulled up Tyce's profile first—the personality assessment she'd promised Cecelia she'd send him. Enneagram. Attachment styles. Something to give them concrete data instead of his vague insistence that he wanted someone "real."
She drafted the email quickly, keeping her tone brisk:
