Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 23: Latte Lies and Fake Goodbyes

Chapter 23: Latte Lies and Fake Goodbyes

Ava wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Ethan Chase had started a wildly untrue rumor about her and Ryan, or the fact that people actually believed it. Her phone buzzed with notifications at an unholy pace, every ping drilling deeper into her rising irritation. She’d muted her social media hours ago, but that didn’t stop people from finding other ways to torment her.

Kelly, for one, had been relentless.

Kelly: "OMG! Are you actually engaged?? Why didn’t you tell me??"

Kelly (10 seconds later): "Also, did he propose with a ring or a prenup? I’m dying to know."

Ava groaned and slammed her phone face-down on her desk. It wasn’t just Kelly. The city’s most popular gossip blog had latched onto the rumor like a barnacle on a boat, publishing an article with the headline:

"MATCHMAKER MATCHES HERSELF? RUMORS FLY ABOUT AVA LEE AND DIVORCE LAWYER RYAN KIM!"

Of course, the attached photo—taken by someone at the gala—didn’t help. It showed Ryan leading Ava out of the ballroom, his hand firmly around hers. Out of context, it looked... well, it looked romantic.

"Unbelievable," Ava muttered, slumping in her chair.

The door swung open, and Ryan strolled in, holding two coffee cups. He had the audacity to grin.

"Morning, fiancé," he said cheerfully, setting one of the coffees in front of her.

Ava glared at him as if she could set him on fire with her mind. "This is your fault."

Ryan arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "How is this my fault?"

"You’re the one who dragged me out of the gala like some kind of romantic hero!" Ava snapped, grabbing her phone and waving it at him. "Now everyone thinks we’re engaged!"

Ryan smirked, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. "I didn’t hear you complaining at the time. In fact, I seem to remember you laughing."

"That was nervous laughter," Ava grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Uh-huh." Ryan leaned against her desk, far too comfortable for her liking. "Well, congratulations, future Mrs. Kim. I hope you like prenups."

Ava groaned and buried her face in her hands.

---

Before Ava could gather her thoughts—or strangle Ryan—Kelly popped her head into the office, wearing the kind of grin reserved for people who lived for drama.

"So, when’s the wedding?" Kelly asked. "Are you doing a tea ceremony, or are we going full-on rom-com cliché with doves and string quartets?"

"We’re not engaged!" Ava practically shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

Kelly shrugged, unfazed. "Tell that to the internet. Or Ethan. He’s loving this, by the way. Just posted a cryptic tweet about ’matchmakers who can’t even manage their own love lives.’"

Ryan snorted. "Well, that’s rich coming from a guy who got publicly roasted by his celebrity couple last week."

"Right?" Ava said, her frustration boiling over. "He’s using this to undermine my credibility. If people think I’m too focused on my fake engagement, they’ll assume I can’t focus on my clients. This is sabotage!"

"So, what’s the plan?" Ryan asked, his tone calm and pragmatic.

Ava frowned, drumming her fingers on the desk. "We need to shut this down. Publicly."

Kelly gasped, practically bouncing on her heels. "Ooh, are you going to stage a fake wedding? Can I be the maid of honor? I’ve already planned my speech."

"Fake breakup," Ava corrected, ignoring Kelly’s theatrics. "We’ll do it somewhere public, make it loud and dramatic. That way, the rumor will die, and Ethan will look like an idiot for starting it."

Ryan grinned, looking far too excited for her liking. "I like it. I’ve always wanted to get dumped in public."

"Good," Ava said, narrowing her eyes. "Because I’m not going easy on you."

---

The Coffee Shop Showdown

The café Ava chose for their fake breakup was one of those places that practically begged to be featured on someone’s Instagram. Exposed brick walls, Edison bulb string lights, and mismatched furniture that somehow managed to feel effortlessly chic. A chalkboard menu boasted items like artisan oat lattes and locally sourced avocado toast, while a small sign near the register read: "No Wi-Fi. Pretend it’s 1995 and talk to each other."

The air was thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee and a faint hint of vanilla, the kind of cozy ambiance that made you want to curl up with a book—or, in this case, stage a fake, dramatic breakup for an audience of nosy strangers.

And boy, was the audience ready.

The tables were filled with the usual café crowd: a man furiously typing on his laptop with the intensity of someone submitting his tenth novel to his first writing contest, a pair of yoga moms wearing matching athleisure and whispering conspiratorially over their kombuchas, and a teenager in the corner sketching furiously on an iPad while stealing glances at the barista like she was painting the modern-day Mona Lisa.

Then there was her: the self-appointed café queen. Perched at the prime corner table, an older woman with bright red lipstick and an enormous sunhat that seemed to defy physics. She sipped her tea with the air of someone who had seen every breakup, breakdown, and blowout this café had hosted—and who was more than ready for the next act.

Perfect.

As Ava walked in with Ryan, she looped her arm through his, forcing a smile that felt about as natural as a tax audit. The buzz of chatter around them quieted slightly as heads began to turn.

A hipster couple sitting at a table near the door immediately paused their intense debate about which oat milk was superior (*"barista blend" vs. "organic heirloom") to sneak glances at Ava and Ryan. At the counter, a man holding a cappuccino fumbled his cup slightly as Ava caught his eye, clearly mistaking her for someone important.

Even the café cat—a scruffy orange tabby named Pesto who had been lounging on the windowsill—lifted his head lazily, blinking at them as if to say, This better be good.

"Relax," Ryan whispered, leaning in close enough that Ava could smell the coffee on his breath. "You look like you’re being marched to the guillotine."

"I am being marched to the guillotine," Ava muttered through gritted teeth, her smile stiffening as her eyes darted to the café queen in the corner, who was now openly observing them like a hawk spotting prey.

The pair approached the counter to order. Ava barely got out her request for a chai latte before the barista—a tall guy with glasses and a man bun—smirked knowingly.

"Chai latte and black coffee, right?" he said, tapping the screen with exaggerated flair. "You two look like a chai-and-black-coffee kind of couple."

Ryan grinned. "You hear that, Ava? He thinks we’re a couple."

Ava’s jaw tightened. "How perceptive of him."

As they waited for their drinks, Ava caught snippets of conversation from the surrounding tables.

"She looks familiar," one of the yoga moms whispered. "Do you think she’s from that matchmaking company?"

"Oh, definitely," the other replied. "I saw her on Instagram once. Isn’t she supposed to be engaged to some divorce lawyer or something?"

Ava resisted the urge to groan out loud.

Behind them, the typing man muttered, "I need a scene like this in my book. The tension’s perfect."

Ava glanced over her shoulder to glare at him, but he didn’t even notice. He was too busy typing furiously, probably narrating her internal monologue.

---

The Setup

Drinks in hand, they made their way to a table right in the center of the room—prime breakup territory. Ava chose the spot intentionally; it was surrounded by people who were clearly eavesdropping, though they all pretended otherwise.

The yoga moms’ hushed whispers grew louder. The hipster couple suddenly seemed very interested in studying their latte art. Even Pesto had repositioned himself, jumping down from the windowsill to saunter closer, settling beneath a nearby chair where he could observe the action unobstructed.

Ryan, of course, was eating it all up. He leaned back in his chair, utterly relaxed, with the kind of smirk that made Ava want to both punch him and admit he was charming.

"You ready?" Ava whispered, gripping her chai latte like a lifeline.

Ryan’s smirk widened. "Born ready."

Ava took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stood abruptly, slamming her hands on the table with enough force to rattle the silverware.

---

The Breakup Begins

"I can’t believe you, Ryan!" Ava shouted, her voice cutting through the café like a knife.

The buzz of conversation died instantly. Heads snapped toward them. A barista froze mid-pour, a stream of milk overflowing onto the counter. Even Pesto stopped grooming himself, his tail flicking with curiosity.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, looking utterly unfazed. "Is this about the prenup again?"

"Yes, it’s about the prenup!" Ava snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "What kind of person proposes with a prenup as part of the deal?"

"A smart one," Ryan replied, his tone calm but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I’m a divorce lawyer, Ava. I’m just being realistic."

"Oh, realistic?" Ava scoffed, pacing dramatically around the table. "How romantic. What’s next? Matching wills?"

At the counter, the barista with the man bun nudged his coworker and whispered, "This is so much better than that time the guy proposed with a ukulele."

A woman in the corner clutched her reusable water bottle to her chest, her eyes wide with excitement. "Oh my God, I think they’re breaking up."

Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as if he were negotiating a business deal. "You’re overreacting. This is why I suggested couples therapy."

Ava gasped, clutching her chai latte. "Couples therapy?! You’re unbelievable!"

"And you’re dramatic!" Ryan shot back, standing abruptly.

The café collectively sucked in a breath. Someone whispered, "He’s standing. This is getting serious."

"Dramatic?!" Ava shrieked, fully committing to the bit. "You know what? I don’t even care anymore. It’s over!"

With that, she flung the rest of her chai latte at him.

---

The chai latte hit Ryan square in the chest, splattering foam and spices across his shirt. The crowd gasped in unison.

For a moment, the café was silent except for the sound of milk dripping onto the floor.

Then Ryan, dripping chai and utterly unbothered, smirked and said, "Well, at least it wasn’t hot coffee."

The typing man burst out laughing, his fingers flying across his keyboard. "Oh, this is gold," he muttered, grinning like he’d just uncovered the plot twist of the century.

The café queen in the corner clapped her hands together, her red lipstick curving into a delighted smile. "That’s the best breakup I’ve seen in weeks!"

Even Pesto looked impressed, his tail swishing as he let out a soft, approving meow.

"Goodbye, Ryan!" Ava declared, grabbing her bag and storming toward the door with as much dramatic flair as she could muster.

Ryan, still dripping latte, called after her, "You forgot your prenup!"

The café erupted into laughter.

---

Once they were outside, Ava doubled over with laughter, unable to hold it in any longer.

Ryan stood beside her, his shirt ruined but his grin intact. "Enjoy yourself?" he asked dryly.

Ava wiped tears from her eyes. "That was... ridiculous. And amazing. Did you see the cat? Even he was judging us."

Ryan glanced at the window, where Pesto was now perched again, staring down at them with an expression that could only be described as disdainful.

"Harsh critic," Ryan said, shaking his head.

Ava grinned. "You did good, though. I’d give you a solid 9 out of 10."

"Only 9?" Ryan teased. "I’m covered in chai, Ava. That deserves a full 10."

"Fine," Ava said, rolling her eyes. "10. But only because you didn’t laugh when I screamed about matching wills."

Ryan chuckled, stepping closer. "You’re pretty good at this yourself, you know. Should we make this a regular thing?"

"Fake breakups?" Ava asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. I’ll schedule you in for next Tuesday."

Their laughter mingled with the sound of passing cars, and for a moment, Ava forgot about the rumor, the chaos, and even Ethan.

For now, everything felt... right.