“I can’t believe it!” I tell him. “Jules is so dead.”

“And Jean-Claude?” He turns, his thigh bumping mine. I grab two fistfuls of my dress, grounding the bolt of electricity that jumps from him to me. “I’m going to throttle him.”

The last emotion, and by far the strongest, hits me like a wave from behind. I feel sad, knowing NRB doesn’t exist. It’s just Jamie. Prickly, persnickety Jamie. As the promise of Not-Really-Ben vanishes, so does my last bit of hope. After nearly two years of wanting to move on but not knowing how to, I had a chance of finally getting somewhere with someone. Now it’s gone.

The final blow is Jules. My sister lied to me. Big-time.

“Why are they doing this?” I ask him.

“I’m not sure. I’m wondering that myself.”

“How does pairing us up make any sense at all?”

“It doesn’t. Unless . . .” He frowns. “No, never mind.”

“Say it.” I turn toward him, accidentally knocking our knees. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You live in the same neighborhood as I do. You know how difficult it is to find an affordable rental. Jean-Claude’s a very money-conscious type—”

“You mean a financial tight-ass?”

Jamie purses his lips. “I’d defend him, but he’s not exactly my favorite person right now.”

“So don’t. Get to what you think they did.”

“Well, they can’t possibly believe we suit each other.”

I snort a belly laugh. “Could you imagine?”

Jamie’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who just said there’s no way in hell they actually thought we’d be good for each other.”

“I didn’t say it that way.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus.” I drag both hands down my face. “Can we talk without bickering for like . . . three minutes? I’m starting a headache already.”

He sighs through his nose, jaw ticking. “Fine.”

Silence stretches awkwardly between us. I pick at my cuticles and steal a glance at Jamie’s wringing hands, his knuckles and fingertips, which are so raw, it hurts to look at them. If I wasn’t on the cusp of giving him an epic wedgie right now, I’d offer him my grandmother’s homemade hand salve, which works wonders.

Taking a breath, I rein in my temper. At least enough to ask, “So what do you think their reason is, if it wasn’t matchmaking?”

Jamie throws a quick, fleeting glance my way. “Perhaps Juliet and Jean-Claude want us out of their hair. If you and I struck up a relationship, they could do something like ask us to swap places. You live with me. Jean-Claude lives with your sister.”

“Wow. You’re even more cynical than me.”