Matchmaker Mayhem

The tea shop was quiet, a welcome change from the whirlwind chaos of the matchmaking convention. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the polished wooden tables and shelves stacked with colorful tins of loose-leaf tea. For the first time in weeks, Ava felt like she could finally exhale.

Or so she thought.

"Are you going to keep pacing, or should I set up a lap counter?" Ryan’s voice came from the back corner, where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and watching her with an amused grin.

Ava stopped mid-step, glaring at him. "I’m not pacing."

Ryan arched a brow. "You’ve been circling that table for the last five minutes. Pretty sure even Harold could beat that time, and he’s still recovering from the convention’s dessert-cart collision."

Ava groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I just... need to think."

"About what?" Ryan asked, pushing off the counter and walking toward her. "Let me guess—Mei’s next ’secret envelope’? Julian’s bruised ego? Or are you drafting your acceptance speech for Matchmaker of the Year?"

Ava shot him a look. "None of the above."

Ryan smirked, stopping just a few feet away. "So what’s got you all twisted up?"

Ava hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She hated how easily Ryan could read her, how he always seemed to know when something was bothering her, even when she hadn’t figured it out herself.

Finally, she sighed, sitting down at one of the tables. "This... us. I’m trying to figure out if it’s a good idea."