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Janice lifted her peppered eyebrows to her hairline. “Oh.”

I pushed at the edge of my glasses’ rims nervously. “I really love working here. You’ve all been so welcoming, and it’s a really cool job. I just…” I felt my features crumple indefeat. “I’m really bad at it.”

“Well,” Janice said, crossing her legs and folding her weathered hands over her knee. “I am surprised to hear such a defeatist statement from you, Dr. Coldwell. It couldn’t have been easy to obtain a doctorate.”

It hadn’t been easy, but then again, I’d been good at it. Even though I’d chosen a degree that ended up being a mistake, I still excelled at academics and enjoyed the challenge. Matchmaking felt like doing a 5000-piece puzzle in the dark… with my hands tied. “I’m sorry,” I replied honestly. “I don’t mean to sound defeatist. I’m more of a realist, I think. And realistically, this is not my strong suit.”

Janice seemed to consider that, and her dark brown eyes looked up in thought. “Hm, I see. Gemma did express some concern initially. She said you might struggle to acclimate, but,” she hooked me with a direct stare, “she also believed strongly that you would eventually excel.”

My writhing insides squirmed to the point of discomfort. “I wish I could live up to what she thought of me. I really do.”

“You have a partner, don’t you?” Janice asked with a tilt of her head. “Gemma indicated that your experience with your personal relationship might make up for your professional inexperience.”

My stomach seized, cramping so hard I thought I might keel over.Gemma, what did you do? I thought with a mental groan. “Oh, uh,” I hedged unhelpfully.

“She didn’t specify if this was a sexual partneror—”

“Husband,” I blurted suddenly. The idea that Gemma was toting me as some kind of sexual goddess with a partner made me want to sink into the ground. But then what I’d said sank into my brain, and I realized it was so much worse.A husband? Oh my God. I did not just say that.

“Husband,” Janice smiled placidly. “Wonderful. Tell me, Ruth, do your husband and you like all the same things?”

I literally did not know the answer to that question. Were we supposed to? Suddenly I felt like I was a third grader taking a calculus exam. I studied Janice’s expression, took into account what she did for a living, and tried to remember some of the things Gemma had tried to impart to me when she’d first trained me. “No?” I guessed.

“Of course not,” Janice agreed with a sage nod. “You know very well that well-matched couples do not always have the exact same interests. In fact, some of the most successful pairs have opposite interests and personalities that complement each other.”

Okay, so I’ve literally been doing the opposite of what I should have been doing. Cool, cool.“Right,” I agreed blankly.

“It’s the same with our careers,” Janice said with a gentle curve of her thin lips. “Sometimes the things that seem like the last thing we need are precisely what our soul longs for.”

“Well, maybe,” I said uncertainly.

“I am so very intrigued to meet this soulmate of yours,” Janice said with a sharp twinkle in her dark eyes.

My stomach gave another crunching lurch. “Uh, yeah. He’s…great.”

“Let’s give it until the company picnic at the end of the month,” Janice said with some finality in her voice. She stood, effectively ending our conversation. “You can bring that lovely husband of yours, and hopefully by then, some of this doubt will have resolved itself.”

I couldn’t even resign effectively. Unbelievable. “Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. “Sure, I’ll keep at it for the month.”

Janice led me to her doorway like a steady stream leading a stray twig to its inevitable destination. “I believe in you, Dr. Coldwell. And I look forward to making your husband’s acquaintance. I’m certain it will be illuminating.”

I wasn’t fired. I was screwed.

Chapter four

Ruth

Ruth

Istopped the microwave at one second, popping open the door with the flat, white button below the keypad, and a waft of spaghetti and meatballs drifted out in a cloud of steam. I hit the “cancel” button to clear the one second left on the timer, and then blowing away the puff of steam, I took the plastic container out with a pair of potholders. I peered at the yellow spaghetti that was swimming in a thin red sauce, and I thought longingly of Chinese with Gemma. Frozen “healthy style” meals were starting to get really old.

But with me proctoring the speed dating session, I didn’t have time for dumplings and lo mein with my best friend, so I took my little frozen dinner to the couch and set it on the coffee table. My one-bedroom apartment had a long rectangle for a living space, with the kitchen to my right and a glass patiodoor to my left. There was just enough room for a beat-up pleather couch and a coffee table with a TV mounted on the wall across from me.

I checked my smartwatch. 5:43. The speed dating thing started at seven, so I had half an hour to eat and sink into dejected contemplation before being forced to oversee what had to be all nine circles of Dante’s Inferno. The diffuser on the small side table to my left released a puff of lavender-scented steam, and I looked around my tiny apartment with the same dispirited apathy I felt about my future in general. The apartment was empty and so were my prospects.

They were maudlin thoughts, I knew that. But as I slurped up bland, lukewarm spaghetti, I couldn’t help but despair at what the hell was going on with my life. I was twenty-eight, I lived alone, and I had so much student debt, I was surprised FedLoan wasn’t coming for my kneecaps. I had a doctorate in a useless field I’d been fleeced into pursuing, and I had a job I was unqualified for and genuinely sucked at. And I hadn’t even been able to resign from it. Janice’s warm, comforting smile swam in my memories. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I took her advice and kept trying. If she wasn’t going to fire me, then the only other option was to put more effort into it.

I let my head fall back against the couch, and staring at the slowly turning ceiling fan, I chewed the rubbery spaghetti. One thing was for sure—I had been an idiot to cover for Gemma. How the hell had she thought that would be a good idea to tell Janice I had a partner? Me. A husband. No one wasthatstupid.I could carbon date a three-hundred-year-old manuscript, but ask me to date a human man, and I went brain dead.