Despite my cocky denials, Garrett’s words stay with me all the next day, and are still there, ringing in the background, as I enter the speakeasy-turned-restaurant I picked for my date with a Miss di Mauro.

After a few minutes seated at the table, I’m joined by a beautiful Indian woman with jet-black hair, dark eyes, and light-brown skin. We make the usual introductions and share our real names; hers is Mira. This time, however, I take a different approach to the getting-to-know-you phase and jump straight to the punch. “Can I ask you three really weird questions without you judging me? I promise there’s a good reason.”

Mira looks at me, half-amused, half-curious. “Sure,” she says. “Fire away.”

“Are you a witch?”

“Err… No?”

“What does the word ‘fellow’ mean to you?”

“Like an associate professor or a researcher?”

I sigh in relief and prepare myself for the ultimate test. “And finally, do you believe the Earth is round?”

Mira frowns. “Obviously. Why?”

I tell her the tragic story of my three previous dates set up by the agency, and she finds it hilarious. We laugh, drink wine, and share a wonderful meal while the conversation flows. Mira is sensual, intelligent, charming… and yet. I can’t explain why nothing is taking off in my chest, not even the smallest spark of excitement.

Mira must feel the same way because, when the bill arrives and I offer to pay, she takes a long sip of wine and stares at me for a long moment before saying, “This has been a great date, and normally I’d accept your offer to cover dinner and ask you to join me somewhere else for a nightcap…”

“But?”

“But…” Another pause. “Feels to me like your heart wasn’t really in it tonight. You act like someone who’s hung up on another woman. Did your friends or family force you to join a dating agency to get over your ex or something?”

For a split second, I think about Brenda. Am I still not over her? I shake the idea away; I haven’t spared my ex a thought in I don’t even remember how long. She’s not the issue.

That’s when the image of a woman in a red coat with killer heels and a heart-shaped mouth pops into my head.

No, I can’t be… Not with her…

But I am, I so am. I haven’t been able to push Vivian out of my mind since that first glimpse of pink lace, and definitely not after I had the brilliant idea of kissing her.

These, however, are dreadful realizations I don’t want to deal with now. So I share with Mira only part of the truth.

“Best friend,” I say. “Garrett had been nagging me to join for weeks, then the night of his engagement party he came at me with the hard sell, and I finally caved.”