Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 42: The Romantic Grand Gesture

Chapter 42: The Romantic Grand Gesture

Ryan wasn’t the type to plan romantic gestures. In fact, he actively avoided anything that could be classified as "grand" or "romantic." But after weeks of miscommunications, missed moments, and Ava giving him just enough mixed signals to drive him insane, he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands.

"Are you sure about this?" Kelly asked skeptically, standing in Ava’s office as Ryan set up candles on every available surface.

"Not remotely," Ryan admitted, shoving a bouquet of mismatched flowers into a vase. "But she’s not going to make the first move, so someone has to."

Kelly raised an eyebrow. "And your plan is to... what? Scare her into loving you with excessive mood lighting?"

Ryan glared at her. "It’s called ambiance."

Kelly gestured to the string quartet crammed awkwardly into the corner. "And what’s this? Ambiance with a soundtrack?"

Ryan sighed, adjusting the bow tie on one of the violinists. "It’s a grand romantic gesture. That’s what people do in these situations, right?"

Kelly smirked. "Sure. If you’re in a rom-com from 2004."

"Do you have a better idea?" Ryan asked, clearly exasperated.

Kelly considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "Nope. But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m definitely filming it."

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

---

By the time everything was ready, Ryan was a nervous wreck. The office looked nothing like its usual bustling, professional self. Instead, it had been transformed into something that teetered between a romantic paradise and a potential fire hazard. The room was awash with the flickering glow of candles—37 tea lights to be exact, all purchased hastily at a discount store that Ryan suspected wasn’t fully up to code. Mismatched bouquets of flowers were scattered across desks and counters, their vibrant colors doing their best to scream "romance" over the faint scent of printer toner still lingering in the air.

And then there was the string quartet.

Wedged awkwardly into the corner by the coffee machine, they were visibly uncomfortable but professionally stoic, clutching their instruments like they’d been hired to perform at a corporate retreat gone wrong. Their sheet music sat precariously on a desk repurposed as a music stand, and one of the violinists kept side-eyeing the precarious placement of a nearby candle.

Ryan stood in the center of the room, pacing like a man preparing for battle. "This is a disaster," he muttered under his breath.

"It’s not a disaster," Kelly said from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. "It’s... bold. Yeah, let’s go with bold."

Ryan glared at her. "You’re supposed to be helping, not judging."

"I am helping," Kelly said, smirking as she popped a piece of gum into her mouth. "I’m offering emotional support. And by emotional support, I mean I’m here to laugh at you if this all goes sideways."

Ryan threw up his hands. "Great. Just what I need."

Kelly wandered further into the room, examining the setup like a particularly unimpressed wedding planner. She poked at one of the bouquets. "You know, these flowers look like you picked them up from a gas station."

"Hey!" Ryan protested, yanking the vase out of her hands. "They’re eclectic."

"Eclectic is a generous word," Kelly replied, plucking a rogue dandelion out of the arrangement and twirling it between her fingers. "So what’s the plan? She walks in, sees the candles, hears the music, and then what? You declare your love while the fire alarm goes off?"

Ryan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll wing it. I’ll say what I feel, and hopefully, she doesn’t laugh in my face."

Kelly raised an eyebrow. "You’re putting a lot of faith in someone who thrives on mocking you."

"She doesn’t mock me," Ryan argued weakly.

Kelly gave him a flat look. "She mocks you constantly. And, honestly, that’s half the reason this relationship is going to work. But still, maybe prepare a backup plan in case the candles set something on fire."

Ryan sighed, glancing at the string quartet. "Do you think the candles are too much?"

"They’re not too much," Kelly said, shrugging. "They’re just... aggressively romantic. Like Nicholas Sparks on steroids."

"Perfect," Ryan muttered. "Exactly the vibe I was going for."

Kelly folded her arms, tilting her head as she studied him. "You’re really nervous, huh?"

Ryan stopped pacing and looked at her. "Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to bare my soul to the most stubborn, infuriating woman I’ve ever met. And if this goes wrong, I’ll never hear the end of it."

Kelly’s smirk softened into something almost kind. "You know, she’s not as tough as she pretends to be. Ava’s got walls, sure, but you’ve already climbed half of them without realizing it."

Ryan blinked. "You think so?"

Kelly nodded, popping another piece of gum. "Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I think this whole candlelit-violin-confession thing might actually work. It’s stupidly over-the-top, which is exactly what she’d never expect from you."

Ryan allowed himself a small, hopeful smile. "Thanks, Kelly."

"Don’t thank me yet," Kelly said, checking her phone. "She’s five minutes away. If you don’t chicken out, then I’ll consider being impressed."

Ryan straightened, adjusting his tie and taking a deep breath. "Okay. Let’s do this."

Kelly clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Romeo. And remember—if it goes horribly wrong, I’m putting the video on TikTok."

"Not helping," Ryan muttered.

Ava stepped into the office, juggling her oversized tote bag and a coffee cup, her mind preoccupied with the whirlwind of emails she’d just tackled. She froze mid-step, her eyes widening as she took in the scene.

"What the...?" Ava trailed off, her gaze darting from the sea of flickering candles to the slightly terrified string quartet, who immediately launched into a shaky rendition of "Clair de Lune."

Ryan, standing in the middle of it all, cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Uh... surprise."

Ava stared at him, her expression caught between confusion and incredulous amusement. "What is this? Did someone put you up to this? Mei?"

"This was all me," Ryan said quickly, stepping forward. "Mei had nothing to do with it. For once."

Ava’s eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t quite believe him. "So, what—you just decided to turn my office into the set of a rom-com?"

"Not exactly," Ryan said, scratching the back of his neck. "I, uh... I wanted to talk to you. And I thought... ambiance might help."

"Ambiance," Ava repeated, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the scene around her. "You call this ambiance?"

Ryan winced. "Okay, maybe it’s a little much."

"A little?" Ava said, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth, like she was fighting back a smile.

Ryan took a deep breath, his usual smirk replaced by an earnest intensity that caught Ava off guard. "Look, I know this isn’t exactly my thing. And I know I’ve probably annoyed you half to death with how bad I am at... feelings. But I couldn’t wait anymore."

"Wait for what?" Ava asked, her heart starting to pound.

Ryan stepped closer, his voice steady despite the nerves evident in his posture. "To tell you how I feel. To tell you that you’ve changed the way I see things. The way I see... us."

Ava’s breath hitched, her usual snarky defenses faltering. "Ryan..."

But before she could say more, one of the violinists accidentally dropped their bow, the clatter echoing through the room. The music faltered, and the lead violinist let out a muffled curse, scrambling to recover.

Ava blinked, the tension of the moment broken. "Is this... ’Clair de Lune’?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It seemed romantic. Until, you know, the bow thing."

Ava’s lips twitched, and then, to Ryan’s surprise, she started laughing—full, unrestrained, belly-deep laughter that filled the room.

Ryan crossed his arms, mock-offended. "Glad my emotional vulnerability amuses you."

"I’m sorry," Ava said, wiping her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. "It’s just... this is so you. Messy, chaotic, and somehow... kind of perfect."

Ryan smiled, relief flooding his features. "So... you don’t hate it?"

Ava stepped closer, her laughter fading into a soft smile. "No. I don’t hate it."

Ryan exhaled, his grin turning sheepish. "Well, that’s a start."

The laughter faded, and suddenly Ava and Ryan were standing so close that the warm light of the candles danced across their faces. The moment felt heavy—not with awkwardness, but with something unspoken that had been building between them for months.

Ava glanced around the room, taking in the messy flowers, the slightly scorched tea lights, and the string quartet who now looked like they desperately wanted to escape this situation. It was over-the-top and chaotic. But somehow, it was so Ryan. And, annoyingly, so perfect.

Her hands fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she looked up at him, meeting his nervous yet hopeful gaze. "This... all of this," Ava began, gesturing vaguely to the room. "It’s ridiculous. But so are we."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Ridiculous in a good way, I hope."

Ava took a deep breath, her pulse racing. "I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to let someone in without overthinking everything or waiting for it to fall apart. I’ve spent my whole life planning other people’s love stories, but the idea of having one myself... it terrifies me."

Ryan’s expression softened, and he took a small step closer. "Ava—"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Let me finish, or I’ll lose my nerve." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold. "You’re infuriating. You’re messy and stubborn, and you drive me absolutely insane. But you also... make me feel seen. You make me laugh when I don’t want to. And somehow, you’ve convinced me that maybe—just maybe—I don’t have to have everything figured out to be happy."

Ryan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His usually sharp wit and endless banter were replaced by an almost boyish awe, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"I’m scared, okay?" Ava admitted, her voice quieter now. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this way. About you. About us."

Ryan’s grin spread slowly, his entire face lighting up. "So what you’re saying is... you like me."

Ava groaned, rolling her eyes. "Don’t ruin this, Ryan."

"I’m not ruining it," he said, his grin widening. "I’m just making sure I heard you right."

"Yes," Ava said, exasperated but smiling despite herself. "I like you. Now are you going to keep talking, or are you going to kiss me?"

Ryan didn’t need to be told twice. He closed the remaining distance between them, his hands sliding to her waist as he leaned in. The kiss was warm, soft, and unhurried, like they’d both finally stopped running from whatever had been chasing them.

The string quartet, sensing the moment, began playing an impromptu (and slightly wobbly) version of "Can’t Help Falling in Love." Ava pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Ryan’s as they both caught their breath.

"Well," Ryan said, his voice a little husky. "This turned out better than I expected."

"Don’t get cocky," Ava said, though her teasing tone lacked any real bite.

Ryan smirked. "Too late."

From the doorway, the unmistakable sound of slow, sarcastic clapping broke the moment.

Ava turned her head sharply to see Mei standing there, a smug smile plastered across her face. "Bravo," Mei said, holding up her hands like she was awarding them an Oscar. "I’d give that performance a solid eight out of ten."

Ryan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why are you here?"

"To witness the fruits of my labor," Mei replied breezily, stepping into the room as though she hadn’t just interrupted an intensely private moment. She gestured to the flickering tea lights. "I must say, the ambiance is adequate. Though I wouldn’t have chosen carnations for the flowers. Too pedestrian."

Ava glared at her grandmother. "You planned this, didn’t you?"

Mei raised an eyebrow. "What can I say? I’m an artist, and love is my medium."

"You meddled," Ava accused, her hands on her hips. "Again."

"I prefer the term facilitated destiny," Mei said, adjusting a vase as if the scene wasn’t already chaotic enough. "You two were clearly too stubborn to figure this out on your own."

Ryan crossed his arms, glancing at Ava. "She has a point."

"Don’t encourage her," Ava muttered.

Mei beamed, clearly unfazed. "Oh, please. You’ll thank me when you’re telling this story to your future children."

Ava’s eyes widened. "Grandma!"

Ryan choked on what might have been a laugh or a horrified gasp. "Future—what now?"

"Relax," Mei said, waving a hand. "I’m just saying you’re a good match. If you don’t see it yet, that’s your problem." She reached into her purse and pulled out two fortune cookies, handing one to each of them. "Here. For posterity."

Ava frowned, cracking open her cookie. The tiny slip of paper inside read, Love is chaos, but it’s worth every messy moment.

Ryan opened his and raised an eyebrow at the message: You’ll never win an argument with her, so don’t bother trying.

Ava snorted, shaking her head. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," Mei said, smiling as she turned to leave, "here you are, proving me right. Again."

As the door swung shut behind her, Ava and Ryan exchanged a look.

"She’s never going to let us live this down," Ava said, half-laughing, half-sighing.

Ryan smirked, pulling her closer. "Probably not. But if it means I get to keep this," he said, gesturing between them, "I think I’ll survive."

Ava smiled, resting her head on his shoulder as the string quartet fumbled through the last notes of the song. For once, she didn’t feel the need to overthink or plan. For once, chaos felt... kind of perfect.