said that he was truly embarrassed. This made Ashley want to invite the woman to join them.
Ashley scooted over on the banquette seat and patted the cushion. “What’s your name?”
“Michelle. Can I have your autograph?”
Ashley took the piece of paper and scrawled her signature, personalizing it and adding a bit about hoping she had a life full of true love. “I hope you enjoy this. It was very nice to meet you, Michelle.”
Tears began to stream down the woman’s cheeks as she looked at what Ashley had written. “My boyfriend broke up with me. I don’t know why. I thought he was the one, but I guess he wasn’t because he left.”
Marcus noticeably bristled, and Ashley shot him a look. This poor woman was hurting so badly that Ashley could feel the pain square in the middle of her chest. Breakups were always the worst kind of heartache, the kind that felt permanent, a life sentence, like it would never go away.
Ashley rummaged through her purse for a tissue and handed it to Michelle. “Sometimes we have to be with the wrong ones just to help us learn what we want out of a partner.”
Michelle nodded, wiping the tears from her cheek. “It just feels so hopeless right now. I feel so hopeless. I don’t even know what to do. I walk around this city all day long like a zombie and I have to just smile and go to work and pretend I’m not feeling any of it. I hate it.”
Marcus stood. “You ladies will have to excuse me.” He stalked away. Everything in his body language said that he was annoyed. Ashley wasn’t sure where he was going, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she cared.
Ashley thought back to the months after the breakup with James. He had made her feel so important at first, as if she truly belonged in this unfamiliar world of money, stature and fame. He’d propped her up and helped her see her own worth. Just as easily, he’d torn her down, claiming that she’d led him on since she wasn’t ready for marriage. She wasn’t ready for children. He didn’t care that she felt so overwhelmed by her life that the idea of marriage and children just made her stressed out. And for that, she’d been turned into a zombie, just like Michelle, forced to smile and do her job while her heart crumbled into tiny pieces.
She had to help this woman. Without hesitation, she pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it over. She wouldn’t normally give her contact information to a fan, but this was important. “Tell you what. I want you to go on the show’s website and fill out the dating profile and an application to be on Manhattan Matchmaker.”
Michelle’s tears made a swift reappearance. “Really? I’ve heard it’s practically impossible to get on the show.”
Ashley smiled wide. These were the moments she lived for, when she had a real chance to help someone. “And that’s where my card comes in. Send me an email when you’ve done it and I’ll have the producers move up your application.”
“Really?”
“No promises, but we’ll give you the best chance possible. If there’s a match for you in our database, I’ll find him.”
“You’re being so nice to me. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You know what, Michelle? I’m helping you because I know exactly how you feel. Exactly.”
* * *
Marcus waited for the water in the sink to heat up, glaring at his reflection in the men’s room mirror. Why was he so annoyed? Why did the interruption of the woman bother him so much? Was it because it was outside normal, polite behavior? Or was it because this was a powerful reminder of what Ashley’s life was like and what she was comfortable with—the unexpected, the out of control?
Thankfully, the woman was gone by the time Marcus arrived back at the table. Their entrées had arrived, as well. He shook out his napkin and took his seat.
“Well, that was interesting.” He wanted to let it go, but he couldn’t.
“What was?” Ashley twirled pasta on to her fork and popped it into her mouth. A tiny bit of noodle poked out from between her lips, and she sucked it in. Her lips—why did they have to speak to him like that? Even when he was angry with her, she could do these sexy things that stopped him dead in his tracks.
“The interruption of our meal.”
“It was just for a few minutes, Marcus. It’s really not a big deal.”
“I don’t understand how you stand it.”
“She was crying. What was I supposed to do?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Tell her to shove off because I was on a date with my fake boyfriend?”
A sputter left his throat. “Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My disgruntled neighbor.”
His brain said that he was her embattled neighbor. As she gathered her hair in her hands and twisted it to the side, draping it over her shoulder, his body said he was her horribly frustrated neighbor. “And I wasn’t asking you to get rid of her, but you also didn’t have to listen to her entire life story. That seemed excessive.”
“She needed someone to listen to her, she sought me out and I wasn’t about to turn her away. This is what I do, Marcus. I counsel people. I help them find love. I help them understand the things that are keeping them from love.”
He certainly felt put in his place. “You actually take this seriously when the cameras aren’t on?”
Her eyes grew impossibly large. “You do realize I’m actually qualified to do this, right? I Googled you and you couldn’t be bothered to do the same? After all this time?”
“I’m not nosy. And it’s none of my business.”
She shook her head and returned to her pasta. “I’m a licensed professional counselor, Marcus. I was a clinical counselor for years before the matchmaking show came about. I’ve clocked a lot of hours listening to people tell me how unhappy they are, especially with their love lives.”
“How in the world did you get a television show out of that? You must have really pulled some strings.”
Her shoulders dropped with exasperation. “The show was an accident. I had two clients who I was sure were perfect for each other. So I arranged for them to meet by accident in my waiting room.”
“That hardly seems ethical.”
“It probably isn’t, but you know what? They’re married with two kids and incredibly happy, so I don’t regret it for a second. My female client figured out what I’d done, and she was immensely thankful and grateful. We had a talk about matchmaking, and I told her that I’d been doing it since I was a kid.”
His vision narrowed. “You what?”
“My first match was in fifth grade. My best friend, Elizabeth, and a boy named Sam. They just seemed like they belonged together, but they hated each other. I was signed up to help the teacher after school on the same day as Sam, but I pretended to be sick and got Elizabeth to do it instead. They were boyfriend and girlfriend the next day.”
“Don’t
