If Ava had a nickel for every client who claimed they were "serious about finding love" but treated dating like a contact sport, she'd be sipping cocktails in the Maldives by now.
Today's client was no different.
If there were a Hall of Fame for Romantic Chaos, Jasmine Duval would've been inducted years ago.
"She's matched with thirty-four people," Kelly said, peering over Ava's shoulder at the client file. "From six different matchmaking services. Including one called 'Soulmate Safari', which specializes in couples who want to honeymoon in the Serengeti."
Ava frowned, flipping through the stack of forms. "Thirty-four? How is that even possible? Does she speed-date between dates?"
"She's efficient, I guess," Kelly said with a shrug. "Anyway, she's here. I put her in the lounge."
Ava sighed, closing the file. "Perfect. Let me just grab my emotional armor."
When Ava stepped into the lounge, she was met with the force of nature that was Jasmine Duval.
Late twenties, gorgeous, and dressed in an outfit that could've been plucked from a Pinterest board titled Effortlessly Chic, Jasmine was the kind of woman who turned heads just by walking into a room.
"I'm so excited to work with you," Jasmine gushed, flashing a dazzling smile. "You're, like, my last hope. Everyone says you're amazing."
"That's… flattering," Ava replied, taking a seat. "Let's start with why you think things haven't worked out with the other services."
"Oh, that's easy." Jasmine waved a perfectly manicured hand. "It's not me. It's the matches. None of them meet my standards."
Ava raised an eyebrow. "Standards? Give me an example."
Jasmine leaned in, eyes wide. "So, there was this one guy—"
Ava braced herself.
"—he showed up in a Hawaiian shirt. Unironically."
Ava blinked. "And?"
Jasmine gasped like she'd just witnessed a crime scene. "It was dinner at a rooftop bar! A Hawaiian shirt? At night? What kind of message does that send?"
Ava considered. "That he's… laid-back?"
"That he's colorblind," Jasmine shot back. "Next."
She flipped her hair and continued.
"Then there was the guy who took me to a seafood restaurant. He spent half an hour explaining the life cycle of lobsters. Did you know they molt? Like, their shells just… fall off while they're alive?"
Ava bit back a smile. "So… he was interesting?"
"He was a horror show!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Every time I looked at my lobster roll, I could hear his voice narrating its tragic backstory."
Jasmine exhaled dramatically. "Let's talk about the guy with the cat."
Ava tilted her head. "Let me guess— You're allergic?"
"Worse," Jasmine said darkly. "He brought the cat. To the date."
Ava blinked. "Into the restaurant?"
"It sat on the table. In a sweater."
Ava covered her mouth. "You're making this up."
"I wish I were," Jasmine groaned. "And when I suggested maybe Mittens should sit in a carrier, he got all offended and said, 'Mittens is a free spirit.''"
Ava lost it. Full-on laugh. "Okay, that's… that's bad."
"You don't even know," Jasmine muttered.
"Oh," Jasmine added, her eyes narrowing, "and there was the guy who was moving apartments. He picked me up in a U-Haul. A U-Haul, Ava. For a first date."
Ava blinked. "That sounds… practical?"
Jasmine scoffed. "**He stopped mid-date to pick up a couch from Craigslist. I had to sit on it. In the back of the U-Haul. Like some kind of… furniture hostage."
Ava was crying with laughter now. "Okay, yeah. That's… that's bad."
Jasmine sighed, crossing her arms. "Do you see what I'm dealing with? This is why I need you. I can't take another disaster."
Ava knew exactly what Jasmine needed.
A dose of brutal honesty.
And if there was anyone who could deliver brutal honesty, it was Ryan.
He arrived at the café five minutes late, carrying his usual black coffee and looking far too smug for Ava's liking.
Jasmine was already seated, scrolling through her phone.
Ryan sat down, taking one glance at her before saying—
"Let me guess. You've already ghosted three guys before finishing that latte."
Jasmine's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
"Just a hunch." Ryan sipped his coffee. "You seem like the type who knows exactly what she doesn't want—but has no idea what she actually does want."
Ava's eyes widened. "Ryan—"
"No, let him talk," Jasmine said, narrowing her eyes. "Go ahead. Diagnose me, Dr. Doom."
Ryan grinned. "Gladly."
He leaned in. "You treat dating like a job interview. Everyone's under constant scrutiny, but instead of looking for their strengths, you focus on their flaws.
Hawaiian shirt? Fired.
Cat sweater? Fired.
U-Haul? Fired.
You're not looking for a partner. You're looking for a mannequin who checks all your boxes."
Jasmine's jaw dropped. "I do not—"
"Thirty-four matches say otherwise," Ryan interrupted smoothly. "The problem isn't them, Jasmine. It's you."
Ava bit her lip. He wasn't wrong.
Jasmine huffed, crossing her arms. "I have high standards."
"There's a difference between standards and nitpicking," Ryan countered. "You're so focused on finding someone perfect on paper that you don't give people a chance to be imperfect in real life."
For the first time ever, Jasmine was speechless.
As Jasmine left the café, surprisingly thoughtful, Ava turned to Ryan.
"That was… surprisingly insightful."
Ryan smirked. "Told you. I'm good at my job."
"You also called her a mannequin," Ava pointed out.
"She needed to hear it." Ryan stood, adjusting his jacket. "You know, you should try listening to me sometime. I might be able to fix you too."
Ava snorted. "Don't push your luck, Ryan."
As he walked away, Ava caught herself watching him for a second too long.
Damn it.
She was not thinking about Ryan Kim.
Not now. Not ever.
(Probably.)