Page 13 of Matchmaking for Psychopaths

I laughed. I wished we were in a different setting.

On the couch in my living room, maybe. That was one of the reasons why I enjoyed reality television.

It was like a second group of friends to gossip about, ones who were especially messy and everyone knew.

Unfortunately, Serena forbade any kind of fraternizing with clients outside the office.

There was a power differential, she said, between the matchmaker and the client looking for love.

To ask clients for anything would be to take advantage of them.

“So you want someone sincere?” I asked.

“Yeah, someone sincere. I like the sound of that. It wouldn’t hurt if they were attractive too, but at this point I care more about personality. I’m sure everyone tells you that.”

“No, you’d be surprised. We get a lot of clients who come in with very specific requests regarding height and appearance.

I’ve had people say that they only want someone with blue eyes or that they hate red hair.

That’s not really what matchmaking is about though.

They’re not looking for love; they’re looking for a poster on their wall. ”

“I like that,” Rebecca said. “You know, I have such a good feeling about you, Alexandra. I was hesitant at first. What kind of person goes to see a matchmaker? Surely I’m too hot for that.

” She laughed at the acknowledgment of her own attractiveness.

“But I told myself that if hot people can go on dating shows where the whole world is watching, then I can go to a matchmaker. Hopefully you have better taste in men than I do.”

“Lots of good-looking people come to see us,” I assured her. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And you can call me Lexie. That’s what my friends call me.”

There was something hollow in the statement. At the moment, my friends didn’t call me anything, because I was friendless.

“Well, it was so nice to meet you, Lexie,” Rebecca said.

I appreciated the sound of my name on her tongue—a confirmation that I still existed in the world.

“You too,” I replied.

I walked her to the lobby. She smelled good—a perfume almost masculine with its caramel undertones.

“You should receive your first match in a couple of days,” I told her.

I’d once heard the term “friend crush,” which referred to a longing for someone you wanted to befriend.

I hadn’t totally bought the concept at the time.

Could platonic feelings ever match the irrationality that overcame people when they desired romance?

But as I watched Rebecca put on her coat and walk out the Better Love door, I recognized the phenomenon within myself.

Talking with her about Love on the Lake had felt so good.

She even looked like them, the women on TV.

I could see her in a confessional, explaining which of the other cast members she liked and disliked and why she’d decided to throw wine in Pierce’s face.

Too bad we weren’t allowed to be friends.

The forbidden nature of becoming close with Rebecca made me want it more.

I made a mental note to schedule extra time for our next appointment so that we could spend more time talking about TV.

I was working on finalizing Rebecca’s profile so that I could set up her first match when there was a knock on the door.

I checked my calendar to make sure that I hadn’t missed an appointment with a client, and I found it empty.

The timing of Noah and Molly’s announcement was frustrating.

Why couldn’t they have pulled their little stunt when Better Love wasn’t on the verge of expansion?

I didn’t like feeling off-kilter in the workplace, where ordinarily I was so in control.

The door opened and Serena’s face appeared. She’s here to name you director, my brain said, before I saw who was behind her.

It was the handsome man.

The one from Saturday night, who I wasn’t supposed to see ever again.

I vaguely remembered sitting on the bed in the hotel room.

He’d taken off his sweater to reveal a tight T-shirt and an armful of tattoos.

I’d told him about my parents, and he’d followed with something— a story of wounds, the specifics of which escaped me.

What had I said after that? There was the truth that anyone could find if they knew my real name, and then there was the one hidden within myself.

Whatever my confession, I hadn’t expected it to come back to haunt me.

I definitely hadn’t anticipated that the handsome man would show up in my office, standing next to the boss I wanted to name me as her successor, something that would never happen if he told her what he knew.

I stood up in such a hurry that my hand knocked my empty water bottle off the desk. It made a clanging sound on the floor, which made me flinch.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Alexandra, this is Aidan Lewis. He’s a new client at Better Love.”

Aidan Lewis. He’d told me his name during our night out, and I’d promptly forgotten it, because I assumed that I’d never see him again.

What was he doing here? This wasn’t how things were done.

We always received new clients during the Monday intake meeting.

I saw the way that Serena smiled at him as she led him into the office, and I realized that he’d charmed his way in.

It was the kind of thing that my father used to be able to do.

I know these are the rules for everyone else, but can we alter them for me?

That I’d failed to see that ability within him spoke to my level of intoxication on Saturday night.

Or maybe he’d charmed me the same way that he’d charmed Serena.

“Nice to meet you, Alexandra,” he said, stepping forward to shake my hand.

He was just as handsome in sobriety. He wore a forest green sweater that covered his tattoos.

I ran through the events of the night. Tequila shots and table dancing.

A hot tub. I knew that I’d mentioned Better Love but wasn’t certain whether I’d specified the nature of my clientele.

Had I used the word “psychopath”? It hit me how much power I’d handed to a man whose name I’d learned only after the fact.

“I know that this is unorthodox,” Serena explained from the doorway, “but I talked to Aidan, and, well, he’s so eager to get matched that I thought it would be best to introduce the two of you immediately.”

I narrowed my eyes. Serena never allowed exceptions, no matter how much a person begged.

I’d seen crying women turned away at the door.

Please—I just want love, they’d begged. I can’t take being alone anymore.

She’d shown them sympathy and then reminded them that we had a process, a successful process, that we couldn’t rush.

Apparently Aidan wasn’t bound by such constraints.

“Did he complete the questionnaire?” I asked. I needed to know if he was actually a psychopath or if he’d simply requested me. It alarmed me that my judgment was so off.

“Of course,” she replied. I could tell from her expression that she knew what I was asking. I didn’t understand how such a shrewd woman had been taken in by Aidan’s charm. Then again, hadn’t I been taken in several days prior? We wanted good looks to equate to moral purity, and they never did.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Serena said, and shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as soon as I was confident that she was out of hearing range. Both of us were still standing.

“Looking for love,” the handsome man—Aidan—said. His eyes were so wide, his face so innocent, that I almost believed him, and I would’ve if I hadn’t been raised by people like him.

“Tell me the truth,” I said.

“Are you going to invite me to sit down?” he asked, moving toward a chair. I was hesitant to follow his lead, but I did it anyway, as it seemed silly to continue to stand, my arms barricaded across my chest.

“You look good,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again, though I couldn’t help but appreciate the compliment. It had been strange getting dressed that morning without Noah’s presence. I no longer knew how to evaluate my own appearance. I hadn’t realized how dependent I was on an audience until I was alone.

“I wanted to see you again,” Aidan admitted.

My fingers wrapped around an empty coffee mug on my desk.

“Why?”

“Because we had a good time together,” he said, and then amended: “More than a good time. There’s something between us, Lexie.”

I noted that he’d remembered my name when I’d forgotten his. What else had he remembered? Everything. Too much.

“No.” I shook my head. “I have a fiancé. The other night was a mistake. I was upset. I shouldn’t have gone with you.” I shouldn’t have told you those things.

“Did you get back together?” Aidan’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he looked unperturbed. He was a man who had never had to fight to get a woman. Women fell into his lap like crumbs from a croissant.

“Not yet, but we will.” My statement was firm.

I could tell that Aidan doubted me, which made me want Noah more.

There was some satisfaction in rejecting such a beautiful man.

If only I hadn’t confided in him, I could’ve marched him right out the door.

As it was, I needed to tread carefully and keep him happy without allowing any boundaries to be crossed.

Aidan leaned forward in his chair. I leaned backward, straightening my spine. I couldn’t allow the space between us to lessen.

“You know the best way to get someone back?” he asked.

“What?”

“Make them jealous. And I can’t think of anything that would make him more jealous than if you were to go out with me.”

He wasn’t wrong. It happened all the time on TV and in movies.

The guy refused to make it official with the girl until she started talking to someone hotter, taller; and then suddenly they were official.

I knew that Noah was capable of such jealousy.

I’d once drawn the attention of one of the other medical residents at a party we’d attended, thrown by one of his friends.

Suddenly he couldn’t stop touching me. It was a hunger so acute that we’d gone into the bathroom and Noah had eaten me out. Still, Aidan’s argument wasn’t enough.

“We can’t date. It’s against the Better Love rules for a matchmaker to date their client, and as of today, you’re one of my clients,” I told him.

“You didn’t strike me as a rule follower, Lexie.”

“I take my job seriously.”

“Have you ever considered what would happen if you took a risk? Come on. I know you feel it. The universe is drawing us together, Lexie. You’re denying a gravitational pull.”

“It’s not the universe; it’s just your libido.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“Because.” Because you’re a psychopath and I’m engaged to a totally normal doctor.

You’re exactly the kind of person I’ve spent my entire life trying to get away from.

“Because it won’t work, okay? Trust me. I know these things.

I can match you if that’s what you want.

I’ll find you someone amazing, a better fit than me. ”

Aidan picked up the framed picture of Noah and me from my desk. We were both in swimsuits. I got the urge to retroactively cover my body.

“Okay. You can match me.”

He put the picture down.

I paused, waiting for him to continue. What was the catch? When he didn’t say anything further, I cautiously said, “Great. I think you’ll be very happy.”

“I hope so. I’ve waited a long time for love.”

I stopped myself from scoffing. It wasn’t romance that emanated from his body, but something carnal.

I put on my professional voice.

“That’s what we’re here for. We’ve helped hundreds of people, and I know that we can help you as well. I do have something to ask of you though.”

“What?”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone at Better Love what happened on Saturday night, the things that I told you.” I kept my reference vague. I didn’t want him to know how little I remembered. He already had enough information that could be used against me.

Aidan studied my face. I did the same with him, but I struggled to parse what he was thinking.

I’d made too many assumptions about him when we’d met.

I’d seen his appearance, the people he spent time with, and I’d assumed that he was shallow.

I could pour my secrets into him, because they would immediately come splashing out.

I’d forgotten what my parents had taught me. Trust no one.

“I won’t tell,” he said.

All I could do was hope that it was true.

After that, I took him through our normal procedures. I treated him like he was any other client, an act so good that I deserved an award. I walked him to the door like he was ordinary, loosening my jaw only when he’d gotten into his car and driven away.

There was one thing that I didn’t ask him, something that I couldn’t get out of my head. He knew that I worked with people with psychopathic traits, and yet he’d assumed that if he signed up as a client I would be his matchmaker. That meant that Aidan knew he was a psychopath.