Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 30: Ryan’s Big Mistake

Chapter 30: Ryan’s Big Mistake

Ava wasn’t used to feeling nervous before an event. She’d planned hundreds of matchmaking mixers, from quirky book-club pairings to elaborate masquerade dinners, and she knew how to pull them off without breaking a sweat.

But tonight felt different.

It wasn’t just that the Moonlit Mixer was her most ambitious event to date, held on the rooftop garden of the luxurious Blue Star Hotel. It wasn’t even the fact that the budget had ballooned dangerously close to catastrophic if things didn’t go perfectly.

No. Tonight felt different because Ryan was here.

Ava caught herself glancing toward the bar for what had to be the fifth time in ten minutes. There he was, leaning against the counter with his usual air of nonchalance, his dark suit somehow managing to look both effortless and annoyingly perfect. He wasn’t mingling or making his usual sarcastic comments—just watching.

Watching her.

Her heart did a little somersault, and she immediately scolded herself. She wasn’t supposed to care what Ryan thought. He was a cynic, a critic, the guy who always had something snarky to say about her work.

But tonight, a small, ridiculous part of her wanted his approval.

---

Ryan wasn’t supposed to be here.

He’d told himself that repeatedly as he’d begrudgingly tied his tie earlier that evening. This was Ava’s matchmaking circus, not his. He didn’t need to see another parade of hopeful singles trying to impress each other with awkward icebreakers and questionable cocktail choices. He certainly didn’t need to watch Ava in her element, dazzling everyone with that magnetic mix of charisma and confidence that somehow always left him feeling both impressed and completely out of his depth.

Nope, he’d only come because Mei had ambushed him that morning with a pointed look and one of her infamous riddles. "Sometimes, to understand the heart, you must stand close enough to hear it beating," she’d said, handing him an invitation before he could protest.

What did that even mean? Ryan had asked her to clarify, and Mei had simply patted his cheek and said, "Go to the event. You’ll figure it out."

But he already knew the truth: Mei hadn’t guilted him into coming. Ava had.

She hadn’t asked him to be here, of course. In fact, she’d seemed entirely indifferent when Mei mentioned he might stop by. Which only made it worse. Because if Ava had so much as suggested she needed him, Ryan would’ve found a dozen reasons to be there. He hated that about himself.

Every time Ava looked at him with those fierce, determined eyes, she made him feel like he was capable of being more than the jaded divorce lawyer who’d built a career out of watching love unravel like a poorly knit sweater.

And that feeling? That raw, unguarded hope? It scared the hell out of him.

Ryan didn’t do vulnerability. He didn’t do deep, emotional connections or anything that might crack the walls he’d spent years fortifying. His playbook was simple: sarcasm, teasing, and enough smugness to keep people at arm’s length.

But lately, those walls were crumbling. And it was Ava’s fault.

Tonight, watching her glide through the crowd with her signature mix of charm and authority, Ryan felt something he hadn’t expected: pride. She was brilliant, a natural leader, and completely in her element. But beneath that pride was something more dangerous—something Ryan didn’t want to name.

As Ava stopped to laugh at a joke one of her clients made, her smile lighting up the entire room, Ryan drained his drink and scowled at the empty glass.

"She’s going to ruin me," he muttered under his breath.

---

By the time Ava found herself standing next to Ryan at the bar, the room was a chaotic blend of mingling clients, clinking glasses, and what sounded suspiciously like Kelly trying to convince someone that karaoke was an acceptable post-event activity.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ava asked, glancing at Ryan as she adjusted the nearly empty tray of champagne flutes in her hand. Her tone was casual, but her sharp eyes scanned his face, looking for signs of trouble—or amusement. Probably both.

Ryan, who was nursing what had to be his third scotch, smirked. "It’s not terrible."

Ava raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm."

"Hey, you wanted honesty," Ryan said, leaning one elbow against the bar. "But fine. If you want me to be generous, I’ll admit the food isn’t bad. Although I did overhear someone call the bruschetta ’aggressively crispy.’"

Ava rolled her eyes. "If you hate everything so much, why did you even show up?"

Ryan shrugged, the smirk still firmly in place. "Free booze. And someone has to make sure you don’t end up accidentally marrying one of your clients."

Ava let out a short laugh despite herself. "I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the heroic effort."

They stood there for a moment in comfortable silence, the clinking of glasses and soft hum of conversation filling the space around them. The glow of the string lights overhead reflected in their glasses, casting faint golden halos around them.

Then Ryan surprised her by speaking again, his voice quieter this time. "You’ve done a good job tonight."

Ava turned to him, startled. "Was that... a compliment?"

Ryan looked away, swirling the amber liquid in his glass like it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. "Don’t get used to it."

Ava couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. "Wow, first you admit the food is decent, and now this? Are you feeling okay?"

Ryan gave her a sideways glance, his smirk softening into something almost sheepish. "Don’t push it, Lee."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling room around them faded into the background. Ava could feel the faint tension in the air between them—like a taut string stretched just enough to hum. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it made her breath hitch in her chest.

"Ryan..." she began, unsure of what she was about to say.

He leaned just slightly closer, his expression shifting into something more open, more vulnerable. "What?"

Before she could answer, a loud crash shattered the moment.

---

"Oops!" Kelly’s voice rang out from the other side of the room.

Ava turned her head sharply to see Kelly standing by the dessert table, holding an empty champagne glass and looking entirely unbothered by the fact that a waiter had just tripped and sent a plate of mini cheesecakes flying into a nearby potted plant.

"Everyone’s fine!" Kelly called, waving off the startled gasps from the crowd. "Cheesecake’s still edible!"

Ava groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I’m going to strangle her."

Ryan chuckled, his momentary seriousness dissolving back into easy amusement. "Don’t. She’s the only one keeping this event from being too perfect. Chaos keeps people humble."

"Remind me why I put up with either of you?" Ava muttered, setting her tray down and preparing to wade into the dessert-related disaster.

Ryan caught her arm, stopping her mid-step. "Because deep down, you’d be bored without us."

Ava hesitated, her eyes meeting his again. For a second, she thought about saying something—acknowledging the moment they’d almost had at the bar. But then she shook her head, forcing a smile.

"Go make yourself useful," she said, gesturing toward Kelly. "And tell her to stop terrorizing the waitstaff."

Ryan saluted with mock seriousness. "Yes, ma’am."

As he walked away, Ava couldn’t help watching him for a moment longer than necessary. He was infuriating, yes. But he was also infuriatingly right.

"You’re going to ruin me," she muttered to herself, echoing his earlier words.

Pushing Her Away

Later, as Ava tidied up the last remnants of the mixer, Ryan approached her again. This time, his expression was unreadable.

"Hey," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Hey," Ava said, folding a tablecloth. "What did you think? Be honest."

Ryan hesitated, and for a moment, Ava thought he might say something kind. Instead, his voice turned cold, distant.

"It was... fine," he said. "But honestly? The whole thing felt a little overproduced. Too much emphasis on appearances, not enough on substance. It’s like—are the connections even real, or is it just a room full of people trying to impress each other?"

Ava froze, the tablecloth slipping from her hands. "What?"

Ryan shrugged, his tone maddeningly neutral. "You’re focusing too much on the aesthetics. Maybe try something simpler next time. Less style, more substance."

Ava stared at him, her chest tightening. "You think this was all for show?"

"I think you’re trying too hard," Ryan said.

The words hit Ava like a slap. She’d poured her heart into this event, into her work. And Ryan—of all people—was dismissing it like it was nothing.

"You know what, Ryan?" Ava said, her voice shaking. "You’re right. I am trying too hard. Because I actually care about this. About helping people. About making connections that last."

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but Ava cut him off.

"And you know what else?" she said, her eyes flashing. "I thought you cared, too. I thought maybe—just maybe—you were starting to see that this isn’t just some game to me. But I guess I was wrong."

She grabbed her bag and stormed past him, her heart pounding.

---

When Ava got home, she found Mei waiting for her with a pot of tea.

"Sit," Mei said, gesturing to the couch. "You look like someone stole your favorite dessert."

"It’s Ryan," Ava said, sinking into the cushions. "He just... dismissed everything I did tonight. Like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter."

Mei poured her a cup of tea, her expression thoughtful. "And why do you think that hurt so much?"

Ava hesitated, staring into the steaming cup. "Because... I thought he understood me. I thought he saw how much this meant to me."

"Maybe he does," Mei said softly. "But Ryan has his own walls to climb. You can’t force him to see what he’s not ready to face."

Ava frowned. "So what do I do?"

"You keep doing what you do best," Mei said. "And let him figure out the rest."

---

Ryan couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying the look on Ava’s face, the way her voice had trembled when she said, "I thought you cared, too."

The truth was, he did care. Too much. And that was the problem.

Ryan had spent his entire career watching love fall apart. He’d seen the heartbreak, the betrayal, the messes people made of their lives when they let themselves believe in fairy tales. He’d told himself he was better off keeping his distance, staying detached.

But Ava made that impossible. She made him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel—things he didn’t think he deserved.

So he’d pushed her away. Said the exact thing he knew would hurt her, because hurting her was easier than letting her get close.

Now, sitting alone in his apartment, Ryan stared at his phone, his fingers hovering over her name in his contacts. He wanted to call her, to apologize, to take it all back. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and stared out the window, wondering how much longer he could keep pretending he didn’t care.