Page 3 of The Singles Club

Crystal and I had started the Club back when we were interns together. She was as focused and driven as I was; neither of us had any intention of getting involved with anyone seriously until we were set in our careers. With our industry, we knew we most likely wouldn’t stay in Boston. Although, I did have one hiccup along the way… I got engaged. It was a moment of temporary insanity, but then again, if I hadn’t experienced that (and our breakup), I would never have come to my ultimate moment of clarity and the truth about love.

“Who is the new recruit?” I asked.

“Becky, from accounting.”

“Becky? Is she new?”

Crystal laughed. “She’s been here for almost a year now. She kind of keeps to herself for the most part.”

“How did she hear about our club?”

She closed her case and slung the strap of her tripod bag over her shoulder. “Who knows? She knew what to say in order to join, but I have a feeling she was prepped.” She let out a sigh. “Our Singles Club is beginning to turn into a dating service.”

“I’ll make a deal with you: I will make it an official rule not to offer advice and tips during our weekly meetupsifyou can admit my theory is true.”

“Not happening because it isn’t true.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you denying it to be stubborn or because you’re secretly a romantic at heart?”

“We’ll prove you wrong one of these days… maybe even tonight.” By the smirk on her lips, I knew she was up to something.

“Who iswe?” I asked.

“Isabella, of course. She doesn’t buy into what you’re selling either.” Crystal headed toward the darkroom. “We meet at seven. Try not to be late this time.”

Isabella was a friend of Crystal’s from her high school days and our first Singles Club recruit. At one point, there were seven of us, but since two had gotten into serious relationships and another two married, it was now down to the original three… and a few temporary recruits who had only wanted my advice. While it was Isabella and Crystal’s mission to prove me wrong, it was mine to prove I was right.

“Another one of your infamous Singles Club get-togethers?” Carlos leaned against the door frame. He was looking particularly preppy in a beige linen suit and Sebago boat shoes.

“You’re welcome to join us,” I said.

He gave a boyish grin, flashing his perfectly straight, ultra-white teeth. “Darling, I amneversingle.”

“Lovers’ trysts don’t count as serious relationships,” I teased.

“I take my trysts very seriously.”

“Well, you’re still invited.”

“Where?”

“Longfellow.”

He let out an exaggerated grunt. “No can do. I have a history with one of the bartenders. He still hasn’t gotten over me, poor thing.”

“You’re bad.”

He chuckled. “And you’re good?”

“Touché.”

“Soooo,” Carlos looked down at his manicured nail. “Since I helped pull some strings to get you that Paris job, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind doing me a teeny-tiny favor before you leave.”

Something told me I wasn’t going to like this.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Natasha has apparently met someone online and is moving out to San Diego to be with him… so I’m stuck without a stylist for her usual monthly feature.”