3. Ashley

3

ASHLEY

“Close your eyes, Lee Lee.”

I shut my lids as Luna, my six-year-old niece, poked my eye with the shadow brush.

Another Friday night at home. Well, actually, I was babysitting at my sister’s home. But since we lived on the same property, it was basically the same thing.

I was getting a makeover. After this, maybe I would be ready to find my Prince Charming. Not that he needed to be a prince or particularly charming. My sister fell in love with a man who half the town is afraid of, not only because he’s built like The Mountain from Game of Thrones but also because he grunted more than he spoke actual words. He might be a grunting gladiator, but she was positively over the moon for him, and he worshipped the ground she walked on. Not to mention, Hank should win Best Stepdad of the Year every year for how amazing he was with my niece. So, yeah, charming was not a prerequisite.

At this point, I would settle for a male with a pulse. I didn’t care what package my happily ever after came in…I just wanted to find him.

From my earliest memory, all I ever wanted was to be married. I was a bride every year for Halloween from ages four to twelve. That’s right, eight times I trick-or-treated in a white dress with a veil. The annual costume would have continued if my older sister Skylar hadn’t put a stop to it. She became my legal guardian when I was nine after my parents died. She put the kibosh on my bridal getup after the third Halloween under her parental supervision, claiming it was “unhealthy.” If it weren’t for her nixing, I probably would have continued the bridal tradition well into my teen years, although the costume might have taken a slightly sexier Madonna-Like-A-Virgin turn.

The funny thing was, I never actually cared about having a wedding. I wasn’t one of those girls who dreamed of walking down the aisle and had notebooks of magazine pictures they’d cut out or Pinterest boards of inspiration. All I wanted was a husband. A partner for life. Someone who would always be there for better or worse, through sickness and health, till death do you part. My ride or die. My person. My lobster. My soulmate. My forever. And I wanted to be that person for someone else.

Case in point, growing up, whenever I was asked what I wanted to be, I always said I wanted to be a wife. Which was where the bride costume came into play. One followed the other.

To this day, I’m not sure where my obsession stemmed from. It’s not like my mom made the role appear that glamorous. My dad was a drill sergeant. Not metaphorically. Literally. That was his profession. He was in the Army, and he definitely brought his work home with him. My mom was consumed with making sure he was happy and trying not to upset him. From what I remember, she put all of her energy into him, and there wasn’t really much left over for my sister and me other than just to make sure we didn’t do anything to upset him.

As an adult, I’d often wondered what my obsession with being married was. Was it because I had an unstable home life? Not only was my house not exactly nurturing, but, as an Army brat, I spent my childhood moving from town to town, constantly being the new girl until I was nine. Then my parents died, and my sister became my guardian. She was eighteen, trying to support us while she went to college and worked, so things were hard. I never had any semblance of the sort of idyllic family I saw portrayed on TV and in movies. Maybe that’s why I wanted it so badly.

“Lee Lee, you look so pretty!” I opened my eyes as Luna stood back and admired her masterpiece. Two thick blonde curls fell over her forehead, and she pushed them back out of her eyes.

“Thank you! Can I see?”

She lifted the handheld mirror up in front of my face. I had two squares of blue eyeshadow on my lids, round circles of pink blush, and red lipstick that looked like it was applied during an earthquake. I looked like a clown going to an ’80s-themed party.

“Beautiful!” I enthused right as the timer went off on the oven.

“Dinner’s ready!” She clapped.

“Go wash your hands,” I instructed.

Luna ran to the bathroom, and I heard the water running then turn off before she plopped herself down in front of the television, where we usually ate dinner. Her mom had a rule about eating at the dinner table, but Auntie Lee Lee liked to eat in front of the TV.

I took the baking tray out of the oven and plated the chicken nuggets and French fries, then squirted some ketchup and BBQ sauce on the side. Thankfully, I wasn’t in charge of Luna’s nutritional intake on a regular basis. Otherwise, there would be problems since I still had the diet of a college student. For years, I’d lived off of Cup O’ Noodles, Bagel Bites, hot dogs, chips, and junk food. Thankfully, good genetics and a fast metabolism had saved me from putting on the freshman fifteen after I moved out of my sister’s house. If not, it probably would have been more like the freshman forty.

Now that I was no longer in school and had a real job, it might be time to think of trying to eat healthy and maybe exercise. By the time I got home from my interview, if you could call it that, I’d gotten the details for the job I’d be starting on Monday. It was a real job. I had health benefits and a salary. This was the first time I wouldn’t be working for an hourly wage. There was the small problem of me not truly understanding what my job was actually going to be. My title was COO of Wolfe Clothing. I thought the C stood for creative something, but when I looked it up, I saw it was Chief Operating Officer.

Part of me was wondering if I might be getting pranked. The salary was quadruple what I thought I’d be able to make coming out of school, and I was 99.9% sure I was not qualified for the position, not that I was even sure what the position entailed.

Luckily, I had always been a fast learner. Also, if it didn’t work out, at least I’d have a good story to tell. The time I was hired to be a COO without any qualifications for a woman who lived in The Notebook house with Budweiser horses.

I set Luna’s plate down and mine on the coffee table in front of her. Then, I went to the kitchen to grab her juice box and my Dr. Pepper. When I returned, Luna was pointing at the screen.

“Lee Lee, look! The show you like!”

“What show, baby girl?”

I glanced at the television and saw that there was an advertisement for Married by a Matchmaker.

“Yep, it sure is.”

“If you are single in the Atlanta area between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-five and are looking for a husband or wife, you can apply for the upcoming season of Married by a Matchmaker!” the host announced.

Suddenly, a memory came back to me of Daphne, Nadia, Zoe, and me sitting around the booth at the bar the other night. The same commercial had come on the big screen, and I remember telling them that I was going to apply for the show. I was a few shots in at the time and had totally forgotten until this moment.

“What’s single, Lee Lee?”

“It means that you’re not married,” I explained as I lowered down beside her and set our drinks on the coffee table.

Luna spun toward me and put her tiny hands on my cheeks as she gasped. “Like you? You’re single!”

“Yep.” I nodded. “I am.”

She pushed my cheeks together, causing my lips to make a fish face. “Does that mean you can go on the show?”

“It means that I could apply to go on the show,” I said through my squishy face.

Her hands dropped, and she stood and hopped up in the air. “Does that mean they would give you a husband?!”

“If I got picked, then yes.”

“You have to go on the show!” Luna clapped her hands together.

Did I? I’d just got this new job. Applying for a reality show wasn’t the most responsible thing to do.

“Lee Lee’s got a husband! Lee Lee’s got a husband! Lee Lee’s got a husband!” Luna started chanting like she was doing a conga line when the front door opened and Hank and my sister walked in.

I was surprised to see them home before ten. The plan had been for them to go to dinner and then to a drive-in movie.

Skylar’s eyes widened when she saw me. “Wow, you look?—”

“Beautiful!” I offered.

She smiled. “Yep, that’s exactly what I was going to say.”

“I got a makeover,” I explained.

“I can see that.” She nodded, and I could see she was trying to hold back her laughter.

“You guys are home early.”

“I was too tired to go to the movies.” As if on cue, Skylar yawned as she slipped off her shoes.

“Lee Lee’s going to get a husband!” Luna declared.

“She is?” Skylar’s brows lifted as both she and Hank looked at me with a questioning expression.

“She’s talking about Married by a Matchmaker. She wants me to apply.”

“The TV show?” Skylar asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to apply?” my sister followed up.

“I don’t know. I just got that new job.”

Skylar’s nose scrunched. “Would you…if you didn’t have the job?”

I could see that my sister thought the idea of me applying was crazy. Of course, she would. But she had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on.

My shoulders lifted in a shrug as I stood and brought my plate back to the kitchen. “Why not?”

“Because…it’s a reality show,” she said as if that was a reason in and of itself.

“They are professional matchmakers. Maybe I need professionals.”

“You’re twenty-four, and it’s marriage. ”

I didn’t even dignify that statement with a response. If anyone should know how much I’d always wanted to be married, it was Skylar. It was all I’d ever wanted.

She either realized what she said or picked up on my expression because she quickly backtracked, “You know it doesn’t matter what I think. If you want to do it, I’ll support you. Completely.”

“I know. Thanks.” I put my nuggets in a plastic bag so Luna could heat them up later and set them in the fridge. “I’ll wash up and get out of your hair.”

“I’ve got it,” Hank assured me before kissing Skylar on the top of her head and instructing his wife, “You need to go lay down and rest.”

Skylar closed her eyes and nodded as another yawn claimed her.

Seeing the tender way Hank took care of her, the way he took care of Luna, warmed my heart and also made it break just a little. I thought I’d have that. I thought I did have that. Garrett was supposed to be my happily ever after. He was supposed to be the person telling me to go to bed when I was tired and finishing the dishes for me.

“Thanks again,” Skylar pulled me in for a quick hug.

I hugged her back and then kissed my niece on the head. “Alright, squirt, I’m outta here!”

“Bye, Auntie Lee Lee.”

On my way out the back of the house, I said bye to Hank and then started the two-hundred-yard trek across the field to my farmhouse. About halfway, my phone vibrated. When I pulled it out of my back pocket, I saw it was a message from Garrett.

Garrett: Hey Ash, give me a call when you get this.

It was Friday night; I was alone; my niece had just been cheering for me to apply to go on a dating show to find a husband. If there was a time that I would feel especially vulnerable, this was it.

But I knew I had to be strong.

Maybe if he’d told me that he was unhappy, if he had communicated with me about wanting to work on things, then I would take his call. But he’d blindsided me. I had no clue that he was going to break up with me. Everything had been great with us. In fact, I thought we were going to get engaged. He waited until our anniversary to tell me it wasn’t working. He took me out to dinner and told me that my wanting to settle down and have kids after twelve years together was too much for him.

So no, I was not going to call him back. I swiped his message to the left and deleted it. Just like I had his voicemail. There was no reason to torture myself.

I’d just put my phone back in my pocket when it vibrated again.

“Seriously,” I mumbled to myself.

When I pulled it out, I expected to see another text from Garrett. Instead, it was a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.

Unknown: Hello Ashley. My name is Declan Wolfe. It has come to my attention that you were hired by my grandmother, Estelle Wolfe. Unfortunately, your position within the company has been restructured; therefore, your employment is terminated effective immediately. Regards, Declan Wolfe, CEO, Wolfe Enterprises

I stared down at the text in disbelief. I’d heard of being broken up with by text but never fired by text, especially since I hadn’t even technically started. How was that even possible? Why was I getting fired by someone who hadn’t hired me?

Shit.

What is the saying? When one door closes, just open it; it’s a door. Or something like that. If not, it should be. Maybe this was a sign.

Maybe I should open the door and apply for Married by a Matchmaker .