Page 100 of No Match Found
Grant was sitting in his chair in my office when I got back, but he wasn’t typing or scribbling his shorthand. He was staring ahead, spinning his pencil in his fingers distractedly.
He turned, and his eyes dropped to the box. He stood and came over to me. “You, Vivian, are an angel.” And then he pressed his lips to my cheek.
I was so surprised, I didn’t even respond. It was just a kiss on the cheek, but it felt so intimate. So…settled. The sort of greeting we’d give after one of us came home from work.
He picked a maple bar from the box. “Are you okay? Oh, right. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. It was instinctual. I won’t let it happen again.”
I want it tohappen again.
I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. He was trying—and failing at times—to give me the space I’d asked for. But I didn’t actually want space anymore. I just wanted him.
“How’d it go with Vantive?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the desk and taking a bite of his donut.
“Not great,” I said. “They’re…concerned.”
“About whatspecifically?”
“Negative publicity.” It was ironic, really. I was the one with everything on the line here. This wasn’t just Matchify’s future we were talking about. It was mine.
“According to some, there’s no such thing as negative publicity.”
“Well, Vantive would heartily disagree given the outcome of their last encounter with it.”
“What outcome was that?” Grant asked.
I recounted the story of the wellness company and the livestreamed breakup. “But that’s not all they’re worried about. The implication was also that our…” I gestured between us, struggling to find the word for what had been happening between Grant and me.
“Tanner called it a love story,” Grant suggested with faux innocence.
“Our connection,” I said, “throws doubt on the effectiveness of Matchify. So, things are looking great, as you can see. How wasyourcall?” I bit into my maple bar, feeling strangely unbothered by the looming storm approaching. Maybe it was the sense of shared doom.
“Tense,” Grant said. “Russ had already seen the TikTok and the article, and the only reason I hadn’t heard from him is because he was busy talking with The Sentinel.”
I paused my chewing. “Wait…The Sentinel?”
He nodded and finished his maple bar.
“Talking about what?”
He chewed and wiped his hands with a napkin. “They want me to write an exclusive. My first-hand take on Matchify, our romance, and the broken algorithm, as they referred to it.”
My maple bar hovered halfway to my mouth. “Oh.” I set down the donut, my appetite vanishing.
Grant crumpled up the napkin and tossed it into the garbage, then looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head quickly. “Nothing.”
“Vivian. We’ve been over this. You’re a bad liar.”
“No, I’m not. You’re just…ridiculously perceptive.”
“Either way, what’s wrong?”
I didn’t respond immediately. Grant’s dream was to write for The Sentinel. He was being given that chance now.
But it meant throwing Matchify under the bus. And me too.
He watched me, his concerned look growing. “I’m not going to write it, Vivian.”
