Matchmaker Mayhem No Chapter 47: The Flight: Mei’s “Retirement” Gets Suspended

Chapter 47: The Flight: i’s “Retirent” Gets Suspended

Ava exhaled sharply as she and Ryan filed onto the crowded plane, dodging elbows, oversized bags, and a family arguing loudly over who got the window seat. Her nerves were already frayed from the whirlwind of packing, last-minute client handoffs, and i’s ddling. But this—this would be her mont of peace. A quiet flight to ntally prepare herself for what was waiting in New York: billionaires, psychics, and algorithms. No distractions, she told herself.

She glanced at her ticket: Row 22. "Great, middle of the plane," she muttered, clutching her carry-on as she navigated the narrow aisle.

Ryan, walking just behind her, smirked. "Could be worse. We could be next to soone eating tuna salad."

"Please don’t jinx it," Ava replied. She craned her neck, searching for their seats.

And then she froze.

Sitting in Row 22B and 22C, as if they belonged there, were i and Harold. i was sipping tea from an insulated travel mug that scread "matchmaking queen," while Harold was deeply engrossed in a guidebook titled Hidden Pastrami Gems of New York City.

Ava blinked, certain her eyes were deceiving her. "No. Absolutely not."

Ryan, spotting the sa scene, broke into a grin. "Oh, this is already worth the price of admission."

"Grandma?" Ava hissed, her voice a strangled mix of shock and frustration. "What are you doing here? I thought you were retired!"

i looked up, her face glowing with an innocent smile that could disarm even the most hardened skeptic. "Oh, hello, dear! What a coincidence! Harold and I decided to take a little trip to New York. You know, soak in the culture, explore the city, maybe help you avoid making a fool of yourself."

Ava’s left eye twitched. "You sent

to New York for this conference! You practically shoved

out the door with suitcases in hand!"

"Exactly," i replied smoothly. "And now I’m here to offer moral support. A good ntor never really retires."

"That’s not what retirent ans!" Ava’s voice rose a pitch as passengers behind her began grumbling about the hold-up in the aisle. "You said, and I quote, ’It’s your journey now, Ava.’ What part of ’your journey’ includes you tagging along?"

i sipped her tea, unbothered. "I thought you’d be pleased. You always overthink things. I’m just here to provide... guidance."

"Guidance?!" Ava echoed, clutching the handle of her bag like it was a lifeline. "You’re a walking hurricane of chaos!"

"Now, now, dear," Harold said, finally looking up from his guidebook. "We’re here to support you. And to find the best pastrami sandwich in the city. Two birds, one stone."

Ryan, who had been leaning casually against a seat, watching the show, finally chid in. "You’ve got to admit, this is classic i. Did you really think she’d sit this one out?"

"Yes!" Ava snapped, whirling on him. "She gave

a speech. A long, heartfelt, possibly rehearsed speech about how this was my chance to prove myself."

i bead. "And I ant every word. But even the best matchmakers need a little backup."

Ava groaned, her head falling back dramatically as she searched the ceiling for divine intervention. None ca. Instead, Ryan, ever the instigator, leaned closer, smirking. "You know, this could be worse. At least Harold brought snacks."

Harold held up a neatly packed Tupperware of cookies. "Would you like one?"

"No," Ava said, though it ca out more like a wail. "I just wanted one thing to go according to plan!"

"Plans are overrated," i said breezily, patting the empty seat next to her. "Co on, sit down. We’ve got hours to strategize."

Ava took a long, calming breath and turned to Ryan, who was still grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, definitely," Ryan said, sliding his duffel into the overhead compartnt. "This is gold."

"If you think this is funny now, wait until she starts ddling at the actual convention," Ava muttered, dropping into her seat beside him.

"I heard that!" i called over her shoulder. "And don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior. No ddling. Probably."

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I’m dood."

"Relax, Matchmaker," Ryan said, settling into his seat. "If nothing else, it’ll make for so great stories."

Ava peeked out from between her fingers. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, here we are," Ryan said, offering her a cookie Harold had slipped him. "Welco to Team Chaos. Don’t fight it."

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Ava sat back, already bracing herself for what lay ahead. If this was how the trip was starting, she could only imagine what New York had in store.

From the row ahead, i turned back to wink at her. "Rember, Ava—chaos is just opportunity in disguise!"

Ava’s eye twitched again. "Soone save ."

Ryan chuckled, popping the cookie into his mouth. "No chance. You’re stuck with us now."

---

The airplane cabin was dimly lit, the faint hum of the engines filling the silence as passengers dozed off around them. Despite the cozy soundscape, Ava sat stiffly in her seat, arms crossed and glaring at i and Harold, who were already snoozing two rows ahead. i had sohow wrangled a blanket from the flight attendant and was cocooned like a smug matchmaker caterpillar. Harold, anwhile, had tilted his seat back just enough to snore contentedly.

"This is surreal," Ava muttered, resting her elbow on the armrest.

Ryan, seated next to her, sipped from a tiny plastic cup of ginger ale with the leisurely air of soone enjoying the chaos far too much. "Surreal? No. Predictable? Absolutely."

Ava shot him a look. "You’re not helping."

"Helping with what? Accepting that i’s retirent lasted exactly twelve hours?" Ryan smirked, setting the cup down on his tray. "Let

guess. You thought you’d be conquering New York solo, blazing the matchmaking trail, no grandma-induced chaos in sight?"

"I had hope," Ava grumbled, tilting her head back against the seat. "Big mistake."

"Well," Ryan said, leaning back, his tone teasing, "now you’ve got built-in entertainnt. i and Harold are bound to create so havoc at the convention. Maybe they’ll hijack a panel on ’cutting-edge algorithms.’"

Ava groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "She’s going to embarrass , isn’t she?"

"Oh, definitely," Ryan said, his grin widening. "I’d put money on it."

Ava turned toward him, narrowing her eyes. "You’re awfully smug for soone who’s been dragged into this circus too."

Ryan shrugged. "Hey, I’ve accepted my fate. You? You’re still in denial."

Ava opened her mouth to retort, but a yawn escaped instead. She clamped her hand over her mouth, glaring at him like it was his fault. "Don’t you dare say it."

"Say what?" Ryan asked, his smirk pure mischief. "That you’re tired? That you didn’t sleep last night because you were too busy obsessing over the competition?"

"I wasn’t obsessing!" Ava snapped, though the defensive edge in her voice betrayed her. "I was preparing. There’s a difference."

"Sure, sure," Ryan said, his tone light and infuriating. "Go ahead, Matchmaker. Prepare. But maybe you should sleep while you’re at it. Big day tomorrow."

Ava shot him another glare but leaned back in her seat. The exhaustion was catching up to her, and despite her best efforts, her eyelids felt heavier by the second. She shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing worked.

Ryan glanced at her, amusent flickering in his eyes. "You’re fidgeting like a toddler on a sugar high."

"Excuse

for not finding economy class ’luxurious,’" Ava said sarcastically, adjusting her sweater. "Not all of us can nap anywhere, Ryan."

"Want

to switch seats with Harold?" Ryan offered. "I hear his snoring pairs nicely with turbulence."

"Hard pass," Ava muttered, stifling another yawn.

Ryan rolled his eyes, then tilted his shoulder toward her. "Here," he said casually. "Lean on ."

Ava blinked, her eyebrows shooting up. "What?"

"You’re clearly miserable," Ryan said, his voice annoyingly patient. "Just lean on my shoulder. I promise I won’t gloat. Much."

Ava hesitated, her cheeks warming. "I don’t need—"

"Oh, for the love of matchmaking," Ryan interrupted, grabbing a folded airline blanket and tossing it in her lap. "Just do it, Lee. I’ll even let you pretend it didn’t happen later."

Ava glared at him, but the pull of sleep was stronger than her pride. After a mont’s hesitation, she shifted closer and tentatively leaned her head against his shoulder. It was... surprisingly comfortable. His warmth seeped through her sweater, and the steady rhythm of his breathing was oddly soothing.

"Happy now?" she muttered, her voice muffled.

"Ecstatic," Ryan replied, his tone smug but softer than usual.

Ava rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. Within minutes, the exhaustion won, and she drifted off, lulled by the engine hum and the steady rise and fall of Ryan’s chest.

When Ava woke, it was to the sound of the captain announcing their descent into New York. Blinking groggily, she realized her head was still resting on Ryan’s shoulder. Worse, her arm had sohow looped through his, and she was practically curled into his side.

Her cheeks flushed. She sat up abruptly, yanking the blanket off her lap. "I—I wasn’t sleeping."

Ryan turned to her, eyebrows raised, his lips twitching like he was holding back laughter. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," Ava said firmly, straightening her sweater. "I was... thinking. Strategizing."

"Sure," Ryan said, his voice dripping with amusent. "Your strategy sounded a lot like snoring."

"I do not snore!" Ava hissed, glaring at him.

Ryan leaned closer, his smirk widening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matchmaker."

Ava opened her mouth to argue but clamped it shut, realizing she had no defense. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared out the window, willing her cheeks to cool down.

Ryan chuckled, his tone turning teasingly serious. "For what it’s worth, you didn’t drool on . So... progress?"

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," Ryan said, his grin audible.

Before Ava could muster a retort, the plane landed with a slight jolt. The buzz of passengers collecting their belongings filled the cabin, and Ava seized the opportunity to escape Ryan’s teasing.

"Let’s go," she muttered, grabbing her bag and standing before he could say anything else.

Ryan followed, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.