Leslie tsk-tsks at her friend. “As if you can talk.” Then, turning to me, she adds, “Put Vivi in front of a romantic movie and she’ll be crying within five minutes—even if it’s a comedy! She might even be more helplessly romantic than you.”

My turn to be smug. “Is that so, Vivi?” I wouldn’t have pegged her as having a romantic bone in her body.

From the petty way Medusa is looking at me, I’m sure she’d be happy to show me her tongue, but, not being a child, she settles for an annoying half-smirk.

“Why were you talking about wives, anyway?” Leslie asks, glancing curiously at her fiancé.

“I was telling Luke he should try our dating agency.”

“What a coincidence! Vivi just asked me for their information. You guys should go together.” Leslie pauses, and gives us a naughty look. Before we can protest, she grabs Garrett’s hand and pulls him away, saying, “Come on, honey, time to open the presents.”

And I’m alone with Medusa once again.

“The dating agency’s all yours,” I tell her. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to use it anyway.”

“Why?” She stares me down. “Afraid all the women would reject you?”

“Women like me just fine.”

“Is that why you’re single?”

The question cuts a little too close to the heart, so I get petty in return. “How can you be a helpless romantic when it’s literally your job to destroy marriages?”

She levels me with a stare that could kill. “When a client comes to me, their marriage has already been destroyed. My job is to make sure their partner doesn’t take advantage of them during the divorce proceedings, and to secure them the best post-marital life that I can.”

“And if you get to terrorize someone in the process, that’s just a bonus?”

“What are you talking about?”

“How about that poor man you made almost die of a heart attack the other day, all because he wanted to talk to his wife?”

“You do realize he basically ignored her for ten years, right? Way too little, way too late. Why does it always take you men losing something before you understand how much you care? And, anyway, you broke the elevator, not me. So, technically, it was you who almost gave Mr. Cavendish a heart attack.”

I’m about to retort when Garrett shouts my name, distracting me.

“And the next present is from Luke, my best friend!” He grabs the package and hands it to his fiancée for unwrapping. Leslie tears the paper and squeals in delight.

“A custom doormat!” She shows her guests the coir doormat personalized with the plural form of Garrett’s surname: The Greens.

“Taking for granted Leslie will take his name?” Medusa comments beside me. “Patriarchal much?”