"I'M GOING TO DIE," I huff, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. "My obituary will read: Here lies Mia Thompson, victim of a medieval torture device. She will be missed by all."
It's the next morning, and I'm sweating through my oversized workout tee, strung up on something that is surely a violation of the Geneva Convention. Whoever said Pilates was relaxing should be forced to stretch their way through a beginner's class after sitting on their couch for, oh, roughly the past six months. But, according to a quick search, Ryan's crush, Chloe, teaches here every week, so I figured it was the easiest way to gather intel for my matchmaking plans.
I was wrong about the "easy" part.
"First of all, what makes you think you'll even get an official obituary?" Sarah groans from the machine beside me. "Because I, for one, won't be writing it, not after you've put me through this hell."
"And second?" I pant, gripping the straps for dear life.
"I really shouldn't have eaten that breakfast burrito twenty minutes ago!"
"What are you guys talking about?" Clara asks, switching to the next move. "This is fun!"
We both turn to stare at her in disbelief. I'm already red-faced and damp-haired, but Clara looks like she's having a ball—just like the rest of the super-toned, super-chic women around us. Someone should call the ad department at Lululemon, because their entire spring line is flexing right here in class.
"How's everyone doing over here?"
I look up. Chloe has wafted over, looking even more radiant up close. She's wearing a pale lavender workout bra and matching leggings I couldn't dream of wearing—not unless I'd spent the past decade doing squats. "Umm, I think I'm doing this wrong," I say. "It isn't supposed to hurt this much, is it?"
Chloe gives a warm laugh. "Not if you're doing it right. Here, let me correct your position."
She leans over and nudges my shoulders back, and my hips a couple of inches over. Suddenly, everything feels longer and stretchier. "Oh!" I exclaim, surprised. "This isn't entirely terrible."
Chloe grins. "Don't worry; we all start somewhere. You just have to commit to pushing through the discomfort. You'll feel the results soon." She adjusts me some more. "Let me guess, you spend a lot of time sitting at your desk?"
"Is my hunchback that bad?" I quip.
"Only to other former hunchbacks." Chloe gives me a wink. "I used to work a corporate job, and I had the worst shoulder pain. Stretching is simple, but it really helps."
"This is your studio, right?" I casually quiz her, trying to maintain a plank position. Trying, and failing. Badly.
"That's right," Chloe replies. "I started it a couple of years ago after I waved my office job goodbye for good. I also have a line of health tonics and creams, if you're interested in checking them out. No pressure," she adds quickly. "I hate to seem like I'm trying to sell anything. But I've found that wellness is a full-body journey. We create our happiness from the inside out."
It's a sign of just how friendly Chloe seems that I don't immediately think of a sarcastic comment. Because seriously, if there's a tonic I could take to look like that? I'd chug the whole damn bottle.
"Are you online?" I ask. "I'd love to follow you."
And sleuth for more clues, I silently add.
"Sure," Chloe beams. "I'm GlowQueen. Just search for the hashtag."
She nods to the wall, where sure enough, the letters are emblazoned on a pink neon sign.
"Great!" I gulp, trying not to collapse. "Thanks for the tip!"
The minute she breezes away to help some other poor soul, I drop to the mat with an exhausted "Oof!"
"Couldn't your client fall for a yoga instructor?" Sarah asks. She's given up following the routine and is sitting cross-legged, scrolling on her phone. "Or a cheese-maker? I wouldn't mind helping you with background research if it involved half a pound of brie."
"Hold that thought, I'm sure he will—next week," I remark. "But for now, he seems fixated on winning over Miss Flexible here. Which, to be honest, I can't blame him for. What do you think she uses on her skin?" I ask in a hushed voice. "It's luminous!"
"We'd be luminous too if we ate a vegetable once in a while," Sarah laughs. "And no," she cuts me off before I can reply. "Carrot cake doesn't count."
"It should," I protest. "Plus, cream cheese frosting is dairy. That's good for our bones!"
"Now I have a huge craving for cake," Clara pipes up from my other side. "Thanks a lot."
"You're welcome," I grin. "Magnolia Bakery after class?"
"I can't today; I have that wedding I need to prep for," she sighs.
"And I need to finish my article," Sarah adds.
"Then I better get to work, too," I agree. "Something tells me Chloe isn't going to just fall head over heels for a cute movie quote. I'll need to break out the big guns."
"Good luck!"
AFTER PILATES, I shower and change, then head over to my favorite work spot: the Morgan Library. It's a stunning beaux-arts building in Midtown, with marble floors, intricate wood paneling, and—of course—enough books on hand to check anything from Shakespeare to Jane Austen. I'm just entering the reading room when my cellphone rings. I get stern looks from the staff, so I quickly silence it and fall back to answer.
"Hey sis, what's a good gift for a one-month anniversary?"
It's my brother, Ethan. His girlfriends usually last about as long as his clean laundry, but to the whole family's surprise, he's actually found an amazing girl and seems seriously smitten.
"You mean your usual gift of dirty dishes and an IOU for a date isn't going to cut it?" I tease.
Ethan laughs. "Seriously, I'm trying to figure out what to get Mia. Or is it too much? I'm taking her out for dinner at the restaurant where we first met, but I can't decide if a gift is over the top, too."
"Depends on the gift," I reply. "Diamonds might be pushing it."
He laughs. "It'll be a while before I can afford one of those. I was thinking more a weekend getaway to the beach. Spring for a fancy hotel, something romantic."
"Business must be good," I note.
"It is." Ethan sounds happy. "I have some new clients, planning all kinds of big social media campaigns."
"That's awesome," I congratulate him. Then I get a thought. "Hey, you know all these Instagram influencers. Have you heard of a woman called Chloe Bennett? She goes by GlowQueen online."
"Oh yeah, she's huge," Ethan answers immediately. "People love her because she only promotes stuff she really believes in. I heard a big supplement company tried to get her to do a bunch of sponsored posts, offered big bucks, but she turned them down. She didn't believe in the product."
Beautiful, kind, and with morals too? Never mind Ryan; I think I may have a crush on her soon.
"What's all this about?" Ethan asks.
"Nothing. Just research for a new client, that's all."
"When are you going to take a break from getting everyone else hooked up and find a guy for yourself?" Ethan asks.
I groan. "Come on, not you too! Mom's already on my case about grandkids. I thought you were all about playing the field and not getting too serious."
"That was before I found the love of a good woman," Ethan teases.
"And don't forget who called that one, back when you were insisting you guys were just friends," I remind him.
"Yeah, yeah," Ethan chuckles. "So how about using some of that romantic magic for your own life?"
"I'm going now," I tell him. "Say hi to Mia for me!"
I hang up before he can lecture me anymore. It happens a lot—and not just from my family. People think that just because it's my job to spread hearts and rainbows in other people's lives, my own romantic schedule should be full to bursting, too. After all, if I know the perfect pickup lines, why aren't I using them myself?
But it's not so easy. Not at all. Composing the perfect love note is different when I'm signing my own name at the end of it, and as for jazzing up people's online dating profiles? I can write a snappy, laugh-out-loud post that gets a hundred swipes—for somebody else. But when it comes to my own heart? It's much harder to find the right words.
Plus, there's the fact that between working all hours hustling for clients and making sure their romantic lives are effortlessly eloquent, it doesn't leave much time for my own. I don't mind so much… most of the time. If there's one thing I've learned from my clients' revolving door of conquests and crushes, it's that finding someone you really connect with is no easy task. That spark of connection… The butterflies in your stomach—and the fireworks in the bedroom… It's rare to find, and when you do, it's worth holding onto. So, until the day my Mr. Right happens to show up, I'm not going to stress about it. Not when my clients are projecting their fair share of stresses onto me.
Like Ryan.
I've barely found a spot in the reading room and settled in when he sends me a text.
Anything yet???
Cool your jets, I text back. Just working now.
I tuck my phone away and pull out my laptop, ready to craft an opening message that will sweep Chloe off her feet.
A little How do I love thee, let me count the ways…?
Nope. Too flowery for a first date.
Some You are thirst, and thirst is all I know?
Too, well, thirsty.
I flip through my notebook of quotes and songs, looking for something just right. I keep notes of everything I see that's romantic or moving. I've even used Taylor Swift lyrics in my time (and yes, he accepted the proposal), but for some reason, today, I'm coming up blank.
What does Chloe want from a man?
I pause. Who says Chloe even wants a man?
I quickly click through to her profile and scan the pics. But there it is, way down the page: a photo of her making out with a hot guy, almost a year ago now. There's no sign of him recently, just lots of girls' trips, #whoneedsaguys, so I'm guessing he's out of the picture again.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Well, that's one thing Ryan has going for him.
Aside from that, a brief tour through GlowQueen's online presence tells me that Chloe loves the great outdoors, yoga, crop tops, fancy fruit-and-yogurt bowls, and inspirational quotes.
In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you – Deepak Chopra. She's posted the quote, with a picture of her doing a headstand on a rooftop at sunset.
The photo has 232,000 likes.
But it gives me somewhere to start, at least. Because if there's one thing I've learned about the language of love, it's that it's really a million different dialects. We all have our own favorite songs, and movies, and things that matter to us. The trick is to speak to someone in their own particular voice.
A Star Wars fan isn't going to swoon over a quote from The Notebook, and someone who loves heavy metal is only going to look at that Celine Dion lyric and laugh.
Which is crazy, because Celine is the best.
But anyway, if Chloe is looking for some spiritual guidance, then I need to show that Ryan is her fellow traveler. And a quick browse through some Chopra is all I need to get the creative juices flowing.
Love is the beginning of the journey, its end, and the journey itself.
I text it to Ryan, who replies immediately.
THAT'S IT?????
My phone starts vibrating with a call from him, so I answer in a whisper. "What's up?"
"What's up is that I need something to sweep her off her feet! Not a line that you got off the side of an herbal tea box!"
I stifle a giggle. "First of all, Deepak is a highly respected philosopher," I tell him. "Oprah loves him."
"I'm not trying to seduce Oprah."
"Good thing, too. She'd see right through you."
"Poppy!"
"OK, OK," I smile. "Look, this is your opening move, right? You don't want to go over the top with a whole essay and scare her off. Just send this as a direct message, reminding her where you met, and saying you'd love to buy her dinner and talk about wellness. Include your cell number. I guarantee she'll call."
"What if I sent some candy, too?" Ryan asks. "One of those three-tier chocolate things?"
"She's not the candy type," I reply. "Me, on the other hand…"
"Don't push your luck," Ryan replies, sounding more relaxed now. "But if this works, then I'll take you on a spree at CandyLand, how about that?"
"I prefer the cash, but sure," I agree. "Let me know how it turns out."
I hang up and pack my things away. Not to toot my own horn, but I already know Chloe is going to go crazy for Ryan's opening move. Plus, once she actually gets a look at him—and he turns on that irresistible playboy charm—there'll be no turning back.
At least until his next assignment.
And until then? I feel a celebratory cupcake coming on… No kale allowed!