Page 93 of No Match Found
“What?”
“The article. I’ve been trying for the past couple of days to figure out a way to make it work, but…” He shook his head. “I can’t do it.”
My chest clenched. Somewhere in my mind, I knew what had happened between us had thrown the article out of whack. I guess I’d been ignoring it because I didn’t want to face it.
I felt sick. For Matchify, but also for Grant.
What would this mean for him?
“What if we just…keep our distance? Couldn’t you…” I didn’t know how to finish.
He smiled ruefully. “Perfect objectivity doesn’t exist, but I try as hard as I can to achieve it. At this point, I’m about as far from objective as a person can be when it comes to you, Vivian.”
“But…” I didn’t know what to say.
All the work and time Grant had put into this article…would it really be for nothing? I hated the thought that I would be responsible for it. That if—or when—things went sour between us, he might blame me.
“There has to be a way to make it work,” I said.
“Vivian.” He waited until I met his eyes. “I have to recuse myself.”
I took a slow breath and stared at the dashboard for a few seconds. It was flattering in a way. His feelings for mehad grown too strong for him to be objective. And yet, the guilt and fear were too strong for me to appreciate it. “Have you told Russ?”
“I’ve been putting it off. He’s at a conference, so he’s busy anyway, but I plan to tell him Monday.”
I nodded.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I know a lot hangs on the article for you and for Matchify.”
I shook my head, even though my stomach tightened. “Don’t worry about that.”
He smirked. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so damn irresistible.”
I gave a little laugh, but the question of what this would mean for Matchify’s funding hung over me. Heavily.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to smooth things over with Vantive,” he said, as though reading my thoughts. “I’m hoping Matchify will come out relatively unscathed. You shouldn’t be punished.”
“Thanks,” I said, but I didn’t know that I believed that. I’d said yes to Russ’s idea about a date with Grant despite knowing I was playing with fire.
It was quiet for a few seconds as we both sat with our thoughts.
“Should we get some cookies?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “But I’m going to need a lot more than cookies if Vantive decides not to fund us.”
“We’ll always have maple bars.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
The digital clockon the breakroom wall read 6:37. The two boxes of cookies Grant and I had brought back were entirely empty now, and at my insistence, most of the employees had gone home.
I dumped the crumbs from the boxes into the garbage can, then broke both boxes down and put them in the recycling bin. The cleaning crew would’ve done it in a couple hours, but I’d been feeling antsy ever since Grant had told me he’d be recusing himself.
What would it mean for him? He’d be in trouble—maybe even a lot of it.
Was I worth all of that? What if he realized he’d put his job on the line to date the human version of a spreadsheet?
A few straggler crumbs littered the countertop, and I opened the drawers one by one to find a rag. I paused on the third one, a wide and deep drawer full of various snacks and the Bad Date Recovery Kits Brooke had put together.
