Page 39 of The Matchmaker Club

Check under this rock again on the 21st of August. A reply will be waiting for you.

-Matchmaker

I folded the paper and sealed it in an envelope. It wasn’t what I wanted to write, but it was better than making up bullshit I myself didn’t even believe… or worse, letting her think she had been forgotten.

I hid the letter under the rock and made my way back home to my other assignment: Lucas.

* * *

Beast wasn’t in the driveway when I got home. 3:34 p.m. and not on schedule. I held onto some hope that this was a good thing, and not just because it was Saturday.

My grandmother was in the kitchen, snacking on a cookie from her personal batch.

“Where’s Lainey?” I asked.

“Working in the garden, but don’t go out there. She wants it to be a surprise.”

“I’m not so sure we’ll be surprised, but Lucas will be.”

My grandmother giggled as she bit into her cookie. “With her woodworking skills, maybe Lainey can help pull that stick out of his ass.”

“Grandma Hattie!” I held back a laugh. Her homemade edibles were obviously kicking in. “Are we being judgmental?”

Her face went serious, and she waved her finger. “Not judging, only observing facts. There’s a difference.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“So where is Lucas, anyway?”

She shrugged and took a long sip of milk as if she hadn’t drunk in days. “Beats me.”

I headed upstairs for a well-deserved shower to relax my aching muscles. Reaching from behind the curtain for a towel in the usual spot, all I found was air.

Crap. Saturday was laundry day.

Still dripping wet, I tiptoed toward the door and poked my head out. The linen closet, where we kept the towels, was across the hall and the coast was clear. I jogged to the small door and opened it.

The only things left were a few washcloths and hand towels. I grabbed them all and started toward my room.

The guest bedroom door opened, and Lucas stepped out.

“Don’t turn around!” I yelled out, but he did the exact opposite.

His mouth fell open, and his eyes dropped to my chest. He instantly turned away.

Dammit.

I pulled out a sheet and wrapped it around me. Then I went to my room without saying another word. I dropped the sheet and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, then down at my chest… and the scars from my prophylactic mastectomy.

I had reconstruction, but both nipples were gone. I wrapped myself in my bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed, a sinking feeling in my stomach at the look of shock on Lucas’s face before he turned away.

There was a knock on my door. “Are you decent?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, not sure I wanted to have this conversation. “Yeah, come on in.”

His stare was deep and intense. “Are you sick?”

Well, that was blunt.