Page 1

EMILY

M y silver cocktail dress glides against my thighs as I walk past security and onto the red carpet. It feels like I’m under the spotlight, but of course no one is looking at me. I’m just another random person here, not one to compete with the celebrities.

“Stop fidgeting,” Nova says, gently guiding my hand away from where I’m nervously tucking a strand of blond hair behind my ear. “You look gorgeous. Like a pocket-sized movie star.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. At five foot one, I’ve gotten used to the short jokes from my best friend, who towers over me in her four-inch heels.

“Says the woman who looks like she just stepped off a runway,” I reply.

The cutouts in her sleek black jumpsuit would look ridiculous on most people but somehow make her seem elegant and edgy at the same time. Her dark hair, pulled back in a complicated twist that probably took an hour to perfect, makes the look insanely polished.

“Occupational hazard,” she says with a wink. “Can’t be a Hollywood publicist without looking the part.”

I’ve been to premieres before — my job matching celebrities with their perfect partners gets me invited to plenty of industry events — but this is next level.

The sidewalk has disappeared beneath a plush red carpet that stretches from the street to the theater doors, and massive posters of Ricardo Ruiz’s handsome face loom overhead, advertising Midnight in Madrid , the romantic action film that’s generating serious award buzz.

“Wow,” I murmur. “When Ricardo said he wanted us to come to his premiere, I didn’t realize it would be… this.”

Nova laughs. “You literally introduced him to the love of his life. Did you think he’d stick you in the back row?”

I shrug, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “I was just doing my job.”

“Your job that’s made you the most sought-after matchmaker in Los Angeles,” Nova reminds me. “Own it, honey.”

She’s right, of course. Five years ago, I was struggling to get my matchmaking business off the ground.

Now, I have a waiting list of celebrity clients and a reputation for creating matches that last. But sometimes, standing in front of all this glamour, I still feel like the awkward girl from Minnesota who moved to LA with big dreams and no connections.

Ahead of us, the red carpet stretches like a ruby road, dotted with stars that shine even brighter in person than on screen.

Angelica Flammia, the supporting actress in Ricardo’s film, poses for photographs, her blue gown catching the light as she turns.

A few feet away, the director fields questions from a cluster of reporters, gesturing enthusiastically as he speaks about his vision.

“Emily! Nova!” A woman in a structured red pantsuit waves at us from near the theater entrance. It takes me a moment to recognize Diane Beam, a casting director I helped find love last year.

“Diane!” I call back as we make our way toward her. “You look amazing!”

She embraces us both, her perfume expensive and subtle. “I was hoping I’d see you here. Marcus sends his love. He’s shooting on location in Vancouver.”

“How is married life treating you?” I ask, genuinely curious. Matching Diane, with her type-A personality and demanding schedule, had been a challenge until I introduced her to a laid-back cinematographer who appreciated her drive.

Diane’s face softens. “It’s… surprisingly wonderful. You really do have a gift, Emily.” She turns to include Nova in the conversation. “This woman saved me from a lifetime of terrible first dates.”

Nova laughs. “She’s got a sixth sense about these things. I keep asking her to find me someone, but apparently I’m ‘too picky.’”

Diane moves on to speak to the next person, and I spot him before he sees us — Ricardo Ruiz, the man People magazine named “Sexiest Actor Alive” last year, cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through butter.

The sea of people parts for him without seeming to realize they’re doing it.

His arm is wrapped protectively around a petite woman in a golden dress, her dark curls pinned up to reveal the graceful curve of her neck.

Leonie. My most successful and high-profile match to date.

“There they are,” I whisper to Nova.

“Emily!” Ricardo calls out, his voice carrying that hint of an accent that’s made him millions in romantic leads.

In person, he’s even more striking than on screen — tall and broad-shouldered, with olive skin and eyes so dark they seem to pull you in. But what makes him truly handsome is the softness that’s appeared there since meeting Leonie, a kind of settled happiness that no amount of acting could fake.

Before I can respond, I’m enveloped in a bear hug that lifts me clear off the ground.

“Put her down before you break her, Ricky,” Leonie says, laughing.

Ricardo sets me gently back on my feet, grinning like a kid. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“It’s good to see you too,” I say, adjusting my dress. “Both of you. Leonie, you look incredible. How’s the wedding planning going?”

Their hands find each other, fingers intertwining with the easy familiarity of two people who’ve found their missing piece. The gesture sends a small pang through me — not jealousy exactly, but longing.

“December in Barcelona,” Ricardo says. “Small ceremony, just family and close friends.”

“Which includes you,” Leonie adds quickly. “We wouldn’t be getting married at all if not for you.”

Ricardo nods, his expression suddenly serious. “You changed my life, Emily. I was so stubborn, so sure I knew what I wanted.” He looks at Leonie with such naked adoration that I have to glance away, feeling like I’m intruding on something private. “I had no idea what I was missing.”

“You two did all the hard work,” I say softly. “I just made the introduction.”

A photographer approaches, her camera hanging around her neck like an extra appendage.

Her hair is a severe blond bob, her lips a thin line of professional efficiency rather than emotion.

“Mr. Ruiz, we need some shots of you and Ms. Morales for Vanity Fair ,” she says, not even glancing in my direction.

I take a step back, preparing to blend into the background like I usually do.

But Ricardo’s hand shoots out, catching my wrist. “Wait, Emily. You should be in these photos too.” He turns to the photographer. “This is Emily Neale. She’s the reason Leonie and I are together.”

The photographer’s expression doesn’t change, but her eyes flick over me with new interest. “The matchmaker?” she asks.

He nods enthusiastically. “Our guardian-angel matchmaker. I want her in the shots.”

The photographer shrugs. “Fine by me. The three of you, over by that backdrop.”

Nova gives me a double thumbs-up, signaling me to go for it.

The commands come rapid-fire, and I try to follow along, smiling when told to smile, turning when told to turn. Ricardo and Leonie are naturals, shifting positions smoothly while keeping me included.

Two years ago, he was Hollywood’s most notorious bachelor — a different woman on his arm at every premiere, a new rumored fling every month. Magazines speculated about his commitment issues, and late-night hosts made jokes about his dating history.

What none of them knew was how afraid he was of ending up like his parents — trapped in a loveless marriage, staying together for appearances while living separate lives.

His sister Carmen saw through the playboy facade to the lonely man beneath.

She was the one who came to me, determined to help her brother find real love.

Ricardo was my most reluctant client ever. Our first consultation consisted mainly of him listing reasons why matchmaking was a waste of time. And now look at him, completely committed and in love.

I step away from the photos and rejoin Nova, waiting as Ricardo and Leonie finish their final press obligations.

“You’re about to blow up,” Nova says.

“Huh?” I feel my brow furrow.

“Once those pictures go up…” She nods sagely. “Trust me. You think you’re busy now…”

My eyelashes flutter. My work is my life, but can I really handle any more business?

The couple of the moment stand close together, Ricardo’s thumb absently stroking the inside of Leonie’s wrist as she answers a question.

It’s such a small gesture, unconscious and intimate, revealing the comfortable connection between them.

When Leonie laughs at something the reporter says, Ricardo watches her with such passion that my throat tightens.

I did that. I created that connection. I looked at two people who seemed completely wrong for each other on paper — the international movie star and the hardworking baker who wakes up at three a.m. — and saw the potential for something real.

So why does watching them hurt a little?

“Earth to Emily.” Nova waves her hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been staring. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

She studies me for a moment, her expression softening. “About what?”

I sigh. “Is it terrible to admit that sometimes I get a little jealous? Not of them specifically, but of what they have?”

“The matchmaker wanting a match of her own? Shocking.” Her tone is teasing, but her eyes are kind.

“I love my job,” I say quickly. “I love helping people find their person. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“But?”

“But sometimes I wonder if I’m so busy creating happiness for others that I’ve forgotten to look for my own.” The admission feels both vulnerable and freeing. “My last date was four months ago, and I spent half of it analyzing his compatibility with my dental hygienist.”

“You’ll find it,” Nova says with such conviction that I almost believe her. “The universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to give you this gift for matching others without eventually sending someone your way.”

“I hope you’re right.”

In the meantime, I have a business to run. Apparently, according to my best friend, it’s about to get very busy.