The Matchbaker (A Romantic Comedy)

by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  Us? I hadn’t realized there was an us. It makes me feel giddy all over.

  “To us,” I repeat, loving the sound of that, and then take a sip. The wine feels warm and tastes sweet on my tongue, and almost instantly sends relief through my body as it makes its way to my stomach. “Ah,” I sigh. “Just what I needed.”

  “Me too. Long day.”

  “Doesn’t help that you kept me out past my bedtime last night. Or that Colin and Holly ditched me to go home and have sex all day.”

  Joe laughs. “Really?”

  “Really. They would have done it in the kitchen had I not physically kicked them out.”

  “And how are you feeling about everything?” Joe’s light brown eyebrows are knitted with concern.

  “Relieved. Ecstatic. Stupid.”

  “Stupid?”

  “I don’t know why I was so obsessed with him,” I say as I lead us to the living room and plop down on the couch. “I mean, I really thought he was the one, but now I wonder what I ever saw in him.”

  “He is cute,” Joe says in a mock-girly voice as he sits down next to me.

  Laughing, I smack him on the shoulder. He grabs my hand and the laughing stops. Oh, God. A million things are running through my head all of a sudden: Did I brush my teeth well enough; Did I apply enough deodorant?; Did I remember to match my bra and panties (yes, I think so, but did I go with the pink or the black?); Is he going to notice my stomach rolls when he snakes his arm around my waist to inevitably draw me closer to him?; Will he even be able to draw me closer? (I really need to get back to the gym)

  But when his lips land on mine, the thoughts clear from my head completely. He roams his hands over my torso and, much to my surprise, I don’t try to push them away. Not only that, but he doesn’t suddenly rear back in disgust.

  I’ll spare you the details, but just as things are starting to get good—and I mean, really good—I hear a key turn in the lock of the front door. We both stop what we’re doing and I meet his deer-in-headlights gaze. I’m sure mine is much the same.

  “Oh, my God,” I whisper.

  “Who is that?”

  There are only three people it could be: Holly, Mom, and/or Dad. The most logical explanation would be Holly, which wouldn’t be a big deal at all. But if it’s Mom and Dad—

  “Hi, honey, we’re home!” Mom calls from the entrance, a mere ten feet away. They have a clear view of the couch from the foyer, but since Joe and I are lying down—with him on top of me—they don’t know we’re there.

  My heart is racing and I’m getting that panicky feeling in my chest. If we don’t show ourselves voluntarily, they’ll surely find us, and that would be even more awkward. Not to mention, I’ve lit my favorite Tocca Tahiti candles all over the place. It’s obvious someone is here.

  There’s a pause and then, “Candy? Are you home?”

  I twist my face into an apologetic grimace and then gently push Joe off me. He moves easily to the other side of the couch as I turn to the front door where my parents are standing, slack-jawed.

  Dad is holding a large pizza box in his hand. “We intercepted the delivery guy on the porch.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I have no idea what else to say.

  Clearly, Mom doesn’t either. Her mouth opens and closes several times as she struggles with what to do in such an uncomfortable situation. I can only be grateful we’ve still got our clothes on. Another three minutes and this would have been far more mortifying for all of us.

  “This is Joe,” I offer timidly. “As in A Latte Joe.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mom says, her voice all high and fluttery. “Of course. Nice to see you again, Joe.”

  I don’t want to be rude—this is my parents’ house after all—but I have to know—

  I stand up and smooth out my t-shirt. “What are you doing home?”

  Mom opens her mouth to say something, but Dad cuts her off. “Got tired of being on a boat,” he says, casting Mom a covert look. “Missed our own bed.”

  I want to point out that they could have given notice, but since I’m basically a guest in their house, and they’re grown-up adults, I don’t feel it’s my place to say so. “Okay, well…welcome home!”

  Joe clears his throat, drawing our attention to him as he stands from the couch. “Listen, thanks for the wine,” he says. “I better be getting home.”

  No! “Already?” I practically whine.

  “Don’t leave on our account,” Dad says, and I want to kiss him. “We’re just going to head up to bed.”

  Mom clearly was not aware of this. She looks at him, mouth agape, as Dad sets the pizza on the nearest end table.

  “Come along, dear.”

  In the next moment, Dad is hoisting their suitcase up the stairs and Mom is trailing slowly after him. I feel half-guilty. Not whole-guilty because they could have called. Not that it matters. Things have gotten awkward with Joe now. You could cut the tension with a knife.

  I turn to him, my arms swinging in my attempt to seem casual. “So?” I say.

  He gives me a sweet half smile. “So.”

  Nobody knows what to say, and every second adds to the discomfort. Then, when we can’t take it anymore, we both start talking at the same time.

  “Should we heat up the pizza?”

  “I should probably just go.”

  My spirits deflate. After all this he’s going to go? I want to make him stay. Hell, I’m tempted to grab that rope I saw in the garage and tie him to the dining room chair. Then I could feed him pizza while we watch Leap Year.

  I shake my head. What am I thinking? This is a disaster, and it’s not like we could pick up where we left off with my parents upstairs. God, I need my own place.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say, feeling defeated. “But I understand. I’ll walk you out.”

  I grab his jacket from the hook in the foyer. He takes it and smoothly puts his arms through the sleeves. We walk through the front door and I close it behind us. We’re standing side-by-side, staring out at the drive, when it begins to drizzle. A chilly wind blows and Joe takes the opportunity to pull me close to him.

  I have to admit, I’m slightly stunned by this gesture. Not that I’m complaining. I just thought the night was a bust, and now here I am, in his arms, up against his chest, his eyes twinkling at me in the darkness. His coat smells like coffee and it’s creating this soft, comforting padding for me to lean into. I wish I could snuggle up to him all night.

  “Just for the record,” he says, his voice all low and gravely, “it would have been the best you’ve ever had.”

  A giggle wells up inside of me. I’m giddy at the realization he’d planned to go all the way with me tonight. And simultaneously frustrated my parents chose the worst possible moment to return from their trip. Why couldn’t they have shown up when Colin was lurking around the house, stalking my every move?

  “Somehow,” I say, “I actually believe you.”

  And then he leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and tender and…the best I’ve ever had, as far as kisses go.

  When he pulls away he has the most delicious smile on his face. “Thanks again for the wine.”

  I laugh. “You brought it.”

  “Well, thanks for providing a glass for it.”

  “Anytime.”

  He winks, then descends the stairs and slides into his car. I’m so bummed to see him go, but so very satisfied with the way things are going. If my parents didn’t scare him off, then we’re in good shape.

  I haven’t had a real relationship with a man in far too long, if ever. I dated a string of losers, slept with a string of hot bods, and accepted drinks from just about anybody, but no one I could really count as a serious boyfriend. Probably because I never saw myself as the domestic type. But here I am, a baker in suburban Connecticut, opting for quiet nights in front of the fire, and falling in love with a cute boy from my hometown. Granted, he has magical abilities, which puts an interesting spin on things, but still…I’m really surprisin
g myself here.

  Once his taillights are out of view, I head back into the house and march up the stairs to my parents’ bedroom. They’re talking in hushed tones and I’m tempted to put my ear to the door.

  Okay, I do put my ear to the door.

  “I don’t know how you could just walk away like that,” Mom is saying.

  “I know you’re concerned, but it’ll all be straightened out soon,” Dad replies. “We can’t give anything away yet.”

  It’s like they’re talking in code. No point in standing out here trying to decipher nonsense.

  “All right, guys,” I shout through the door. “You can come out now!” I rap on the door with my knuckle.

  “Come in!” Mom shouts back.

  I turn the handle and step into the room. Mom is busy unpacking their things and Dad’s just coming out of the en suite bathroom, the sounds of flushing behind him.

  “Sorry to ruin your night, pumpkin,” Dad says as he scrubs his hands under the faucet.

  “What are you doing back, anyway?” I venture. “I mean, you paid for the whole trip, didn’t you? Will you be able to get a refund?”

  “Money is of no consequence, Candy,” Mom says, and this is news to me. It was always of consequence when I was growing up. “We had to come back. It’s more evident now than ever.”

  The way my Mom delivered that last line sends a sick feeling to my stomach. And when Dad clears his throat loudly and shoots a warning look at her, I know it’s something I’ve done. But I pray it’s not about the whole Colin thing. I mean, I already sorted that out. They’ve come home for no reason at all.

  “Why?” I ask tentatively, and then decide to add, for good measure, “I mean, everything’s going fine here.”

  “Yes, yes, we know you’re doing a fine job at the bakery.” She closes a drawer in her dresser and returns to the suitcase. “But we had to come back for the tribunal.”

  I stare at my mother. I’m tempted to clean out my ears, like I’m a character in a campy movie who thinks they didn’t hear correctly and when they rub their ears, a squeaky sound gets dubbed in. “The tri-what?”

  Mom looks at me with a disappointed frown. “Don’t do that, dear,” she says, her voice sinking into condescension. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not becoming.”

  I’m tempted to growl and roll my eyes like a surly teenager. “I know what the word tribunal means. I just don’t know how it applies to us.”

  “The tribunal, dear, is a gathering of the elders. Apparently there’s been some magical misuse going on, and the elders want to hold a tribunal to get it straightened out.” She gives me a pointed look. “Make sure we keep our young people in line.”

  My face is hot. Even my ears are flaming. Am I breaking out in hives? I look down at my arms. No visible signs, but then why am I so itchy all of a sudden?

  “Who-who’s gotten out of line?” I prod, continuing to play dumb despite my mother’s gentle suggestion that I not do that.

  Dad shrugs as he takes a bag of toiletries from Mom into the bathroom. “Don’t know. They didn’t say. Just said we needed to get home as soon as we could.”

  “And you dropped everything?” Goodness, who were these elders and why did they get to dictate what everyone did? “Where were you, anyway?”

  “Southeast Asia,” Mom says. “It was really lovely, dear. You should go sometime.”

  Right. Because I have so much free time now and limitless funds. “Couldn’t they have told you over the phone what was going on? I mean, seems like a long way to travel just for one meeting.”

  Mom stops what she’s doing and stares at me, completely still. “You will learn, in time, that everything stops for the clan.”

  The clan?

  “One day you’ll be one of the elders, Candy, and you’ll understand the importance of the tribunal. Of being there with and for the others.” She resumes unpacking. “You don’t seem to understand yet the responsibility we have, being magical and all.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Of course not.” Mom looks at me and her expression turns pitying. “Don’t fret about it, dear. I didn’t understand at your age either. When you come into your magic it’s…surreal. And fun! Isn’t it?”

  Not really. “Um, I guess.”

  “No, it’s not!” Okay, clearly that was a trick question. “Magic is serious business, Candy. Can you imagine if our secret got out?”

  “What your mother is trying to say is that the more often and the more flippantly you use your magic, the more likely you are to get caught.”

  Info I could have used before they skipped town.

  “And this isn’t some show on the CW,” Mom continues. “We’re not vampires who can erase people’s memories.”

  I cast a quizzical look at Dad.

  He shrugs. “The ship had the entire first season of The Vampire Diaries on DVD. Spent two whole days in our cabin watching it.”

  I shake my head, trying to picture my parents glued to the angst-ridden teen vampire drama, but I’m getting that robot voice in my head that says over and over, “Does. Not. Compute.”

  “So…when will this tribunal be held?” I ask.

  “Soon,” Mom replies. “Your invitation should be in the mail tomorrow.”

  “Invitation?”

  “More of a subpoena,” Dad says. “But they use very nice card stock.”

  Twenty

  Miss Candace Cooper

  You are cordially invited to attend

  THE TRIBUNAL

  To be held on the 13th day of this month at precisely 7pm

  275 Mockingbird Lane, Sagehaven, CT

  Since my parents returned home on the evening of the 12th, I didn’t have much notice about the tribunal. The mysterious envelope was just outside the front door when I left for the bakery, and I’m half suspicious it was my parents who whipped up the simple invitation.

  When I arrive at the bakery, I’m surprised to find the door is already unlocked and there’s light coming from under the kitchen door. I panic for a brief moment, wondering if someone broke in, then think better of it. They probably wouldn’t turn on the lights to rob us. Besides, there isn’t any money in the kitchen.

  I push through the door to find Holly sitting at her station, rolling out little pieces of pink fondant. She’s making roses, and there must be a hundred of them already laid out on the metal table.

  “Holly?” I say, drawing her attention to me.

  She flashes me a way-too-perky smile for seven o’clock in the morning. “Hey, sis!”

  Hey, sis? “Ummm…hey.” I hang my coat and purse on the rack and then approach my sister carefully. We haven’t spoken since that day she walked out on me, and I can’t help but feel a little awkward. “What’s up?”

  She shrugs. “Just makin’ flowers.” She holds one up for me to observe.

  “Nice.” We have to address the giant, pink elephant in the room. “Hol, I want you to know I’m really sorry for what happened.”

  “I know you are,” she replies, dropping the flower back to its spot among the others. “But you fixed it, and that’s what matters. Colin, thankfully, doesn’t remember a thing.”

  “Yeah. About that…my thing for Colin…it’s gone. I promise. As a matter of fact…” I can’t help but get a little wistful and bashful when I think about my kiss with Joe on the porch last night.

  Holly cocks her head. “What?”

  “I’ve started dating someone, actually.”

  “What?” My sister’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “You? Is it serious?”

  I shrug, trying to remain nonchalant even though I’m bursting with excitement inside. “Might be,” I mutter.

  “Well, who is it?” Now Holly is excited too. She’s jumped off her stool and grabbed onto my shoulders.

  “I’m not ready to say.” And then it occurs to me that Holly doesn’t know about Mom and Dad. “Oh!”

  “What?” Holly’s eyes widen frantically. “What is it?”

&n
bsp; “Brace yourself,” I say. “Mom and Dad are back.”

  I’m really starting to worry that Holly’s eyes are going to lop out of their sockets. “They’re back?”

  “Came back last night. Let’s just say it wasn’t a terribly convenient time for me.”

  “You mean you were—”

  “Almost. Thank God we still had our clothes on.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Exactly.”

  Holly finally drops her hands from my shoulders and moves them to her hips. “So what are they doing back so soon? I thought they’d be gone for six months.”

  Heat rushes into my face, and I immediately scurry around to the other side of the kitchen to start my baking for the day. “Um, I don’t know,” I lie.

  I can feel Holly’s eyes boring into the back of my head. “You’re lying.”

  Crap. “I mean, they were kind of cryptic about it, but…well…”

  “Spill it, Candy. What’s going on?”

  I turn around and lean against the counter, facing my sister head-on. “I think I might be in trouble.”

  “What do you mean? Do you need help?”

  I shake my head. “Not that kind of trouble. I’m not running from the mob, or anything. I think it’s more like, I did something wrong and I’m probably going to get spanked for it. Figuratively, of course.”

  Holly gives me a confused frown, as well she should. It’s the same look I gave my parents last night when they told me about the tribunal. I give her the rundown, as I know it.

  “So, what’s going to happen? Will they take away your powers? Just give you a slap on the wrist?”

  “I have no idea.” My heart sinks. I’m feeling so helpless all of a sudden.

  “Well, I’m going to be there, right by your side. You made it all right—there’s no reason you should be on trial for this.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the invitation. “Unless you got one of these, I’m pretty sure you’re not invited.”

  Holly reads the paper and then tosses it angrily to the table. “Ugh! This whole magical-first-born thing is so annoying. I’m your sister. And I’m the one you wronged. If I’ve forgiven you, shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t they see I’ve forgiven you?”