Perfect Match

by Lila Monroe

  He laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind. You take care of yourself, all right?”

  Peter’s kindness sticks with me all the way back to my apartment. Handsome, funny, and gracious? He really was a perfect match. But when I walk inside to the stacks of food delivery boxes, my heart sinks again. I sit down amid the mess and pick up my laptop.

  Warren set up a membership ticker only we can see. In the Perfect Match admin interface, the number is sitting at 89,756. So close to our big goal. It slides up one, and another one, and another one right before my eyes. I wait for the thrill of victory to hit me, but all I feel is empty.

  I told Peter to go back to the app and keep searching, but can I really say that’s going to help him find the right person? I thought I had love all figured out, down to the decimal point.

  Now I wonder, is this whole app a lie?

  30

  Jack

  Whoever said you can’t run from your problems never tried climbing. With your muscles straining to hold you in place thirty feet off the ground, you can’t think about anything except where you’re going to put your hand next.

  I ignore the sweat trickling down my forehead and reach for the next hold. I’m free climbing, no rope to catch me, so my concentration can’t waver an inch. One of my calves quivers, and I tense the muscle there. I’ve got this. I’m good.

  “Jack, man, maybe you should call it a day,” Cash says from farther over on the wall. He’s got a rope and harness. But he doesn’t have anything—or anyone—he needs to block out of his head.

  “No problems here,” I say. My voice isn’t that strained. “I can go a little higher.”

  “I’m just saying, you look like you’ve pushed yourself far enough. But you know you better than I do.”

  Yes. Yes, I do. And I know that I need this if I’m going to go into the office today and deal with—

  My gaze has drifted across the gym for a second. A flash of long brown hair catches my eye. My pulse stutters, and my grip shifts. My fingers nearly slip off the hold. I release and snatch on again, my stomach lurching. Just for a second, I can feel the air fail to catch me.

  But I’m still good. I recovered. Catching my breath, I turn my head for a better look.

  It’s not her. Not McKenna. The girl hardly even looks like her other than the hair. Skinny teenager, no glasses, rounded face.

  Damn. I’m really losing it.

  I make my way down the wall and head into the showers. Cash catches up with me as I’m toweling off in the locker room.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s up, or just keep pushing yourself up that rock face until you crack?”

  Dear Lord. When even macho man Cash is offering a heart-to-heart, you know you’re in a bad way. I shake my head, as much to clear it as to refuse.

  “It’s nothing. I’m just a little distracted by work. Thanks for checking, though.”

  Cash raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s it?”

  “Cash, if I need help, I’ll give you a shout,” I say briskly. “I promise.”

  My car is waiting outside. Normally I look forward to the start of a work day. Today my chest tightens more the closer we get to Maverick Capital. I’ve managed to work remotely most of the month, but we’re just a couple weeks out from launching Perfect Match now, after the holidays. I have to be in house.

  And McKenna is going to be there too, of course.

  It shouldn’t matter. How many women have I hooked up with over the last fifteen years? I run into them around town all the time, no problem. We chat, we laugh, we go our separate ways.

  But McKenna is different. It’s my fault for letting her get under my skin as much as I did.

  I stalk straight past Hallie’s desk into my office. But that doesn’t mean I’ve escaped McKenna. There’s a stack of papers on my desk and a heap of emails on my computer. Press for the Perfect Match launch. Status reports. Budget approvals. Publicity photos of McKenna looking gorgeous and confident.

  Around ten I get a memo from her. Only 5K from final recruitment goal. Based on our current marketing efforts, I’d estimate we’ll hit 100 in the next two days. If you need details, check in with Riley.

  With Riley. Because McKenna has no interest in talking to me other than the briefest of factual reports.

  Just before one, she CCs me with a request from Warren. When is the new programmer due to start? It sounds like we could use him ASAP.

  She couldn’t have walked over to ask? No, that would require looking me in the face.

  She put on such a good front two weeks ago on the boat. Surprised that I’d figured her strategy out, I guess. I don’t understand what changed. How miserable she looked …

  My gut twists. I shove that memory away. She wanted to keep me on the line in case she needed more from me later, that’s all. One of Shelby’s little tricks, no doubt. She managed to look awfully happy with that date of hers, didn’t she?

  Just before four, Hallie steps in. “Jack,” she says, “I just want to go over this press release for Perfect Match—”

  I don’t know where it comes from. Something inside me just snaps. “Damn it, Hallie, can’t you do that one fucking thing without my help? I do have other projects besides McKenna’s to think about.”

  Hallie stares at me for a second. Her lips purse. “Okay then. I’m done with this today. If you need me, don’t call.”

  She sets the printout on the edge of my desk and walks out without another word.

  Oh, hell. Very smooth, Callahan. Are there any women left in your life you’d like to piss off next?

  At least with Hallie there’s something to fix. I clear the last few urgent tasks off my desk and get the car to take me around to her favorite Thai place. Then I head to her apartment with my peace offering.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her when she opens the door. “I’ve been a jerk of a boss. Please allow me to bargain my way back into your good graces?”

  The corner of her mouth twitches up. She sighs. “Come in.”

  Her apartment is small, cluttered with camera equipment, and with photographs framed on the walls. She’s always so focused on my work, I forget she has a life – and passions – outside of Maverick. We get settled at her table, and Hallie fixes me with a look. “I’m not the only one you need to apologize too, you know.”

  That’s not a good sign. “What? Who else did I manage to offend today?”

  Hallie rolls her eyes at me. “I’m talking about McKenna.”

  My back stiffens. “Don’t be absurd. If anyone should be apologizing—”

  “Just stop!” she interrupts. “I know you’re all twisted up about this idea that she was using you, but it’s completely obvious that she’s just as upset as you are. Maybe more. I heard how you sprang the whole surprise soulmate thing on her at Tech Talk. That was pretty low. Right before she had to come on and present there for the first time?”

  I look away. “Not so different from coming home to finding her on a date with some other guy.”

  “For a magazine article! For publicity!” Hallie cries. “I helped arrange the setup for that, Jack. McKenna looked about as excited to be meeting that guy as you are about tie shopping.”

  “Ties are boring,” I mutter.

  “Exactly!”

  That isn’t the point, though. “You didn’t hear what the reporter told me.”

  “You told me,” Hallie says. “But how do you know it’s true? It doesn’t sound like McKenna. And besides, you can hardly talk, you trade on being a rich big shot all the time. All those expensive restaurants you have me book, sending flowers and jewelry to your dates …”

  “Yeah,” I say. “When it’s just for a bit of fun. This was— This was different.”

  Because I started thinking it could be more than that. A lot more than that. Because I wanted more than that, for the first time I can remember.

  I don’t want to say any of that, but it seems Hallie hears it anyway. She sighs. “Look, I don’t like t
o get involved with your personal life. But I’ve never seen you care this much about anyone. What did she say when you confronted her about the Shelby thing?”

  I clear my throat.

  “Seriously?” Hallie exclaims. “You didn’t even ask her?”

  “And what good would that do? If she was lying before, then she can just keep lying. I can’t trust her.”

  “Did McKenna ever do anything that would make you think she was using you?” Hallie asks. “Really? Or are you just going by some bullshit gossip you heard third-hand from some reporter?”

  The date. That time I saw her with Shelby Summers. The way she talked to me after she found out about the move. But there are other explanations for all of those things. I grimace. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Hallie’s voice softens. “Maybe that’s not because it’s wrong. Maybe that just means you’re not used to caring like this. Of course that makes it hard. But if you don’t give it a real shot …”

  “I know, I know,” I say, just to end the conversation. My stomach is too knotted for the food to look at all appealing. “I think I’m going to skip the dinner. The food was for you anyway. I promise I’ll keep my attitude in check from here on. And again, I’m sorry. You’re the best assistant I could ever have.”

  “Had.” Hallie says quietly.

  I stop. Wait, what is she saying? “Hallie, no. I’m sorry. I cab be an ass, but I swear I’ll be better.”

  Hallie gives me a reluctant smile. “I know. It’s not about you, it’s me. I only took the job as a temporary gig, while I got my photography business off the ground. But here I am, four years later, and I’m still not going after what I really want.”

  “But you’re so good at it!” I protest. “You make my life run perfectly.”

  “Exactly.” Hallie says. “Emphasis on yours. I’ll come back long enough to find a replacement, but it’s time I struck out and tried this, for me.”

  I open my mouth to convince her to stay. Offer a raise, or more perks, or anything to keep her around. Then I stop. She’s right. Booking my appointments isn’t exactly a fulfilling career, and she deserves to be able to pursue her dreams. “If you need anything, just let me know,” I tell her instead. “Contacts, networking… I know some great editors who would hire you in a flash—“

  “No, Jack.” She stops me. “Thank you, but I want to do this on my own.”

  “OK,” I agree. “But just say the word.”

  “I will,” she smiles. “And think about what I said, about McKenna.”

  As if there’s anything else I can do. McKenna hasn’t really left my head in weeks. I meander around downtown for a little while, and then head over to Seb and Katie’s.

  It’s still early, not yet time for the big dinner rush. When I walk into the restaurant’s kitchen, Seb is leaning against a counter chatting with Katie, who’s checking a roast in one of the ovens. He says something, and she laughs, straightening up to kiss him.

  Watching them sends a little jab through my chest. I want what they have.

  And I wanted it with McKenna.

  “Jack!” Katie sees me and waves me over. “Your usual table?”

  Suddenly, I don’t want to stick around. “Thanks, but if you could just fix something for me to go.”

  “No, no, don’t be silly,” Katie says quickly. “Stick around for a bit. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “I was here the other night.” I frown.

  “But we can never get enough,” Katie winks. “Seb, open that bottle and pour us a drink.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Have one drink with us,” she interrupts. “We can catch up. Has Cash finished the new furniture set for you yet?”

  I’m not sure why she’s being quite so insistent, but now I have a glass of good wine in my hand. “Nearly. I went by his workshop the other day, and they’re coming along beautifully.”

  We talk a little more about Cash and Seb’s latest projects. Katie takes the roast out of the oven, cuts off a few slices, and sets them in a takeout container. She drizzles a spoonful of sauce over them and tosses in some glazed parsnips and carrots.

  “I hope that’s for me.” I say, hungry now.

  She laughs. “No, we just had a customer call in.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Must be a pretty special customer to get your roast.”

  “You could say that.” Katie opens the kitchen door to head into the restaurant, and I see

  McKenna has just come in the door. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold and her hat is sprinkled with snow. She’s looking down, rubbing the fog from her glasses with her scarf. It’s only when she’s halfway across the room that she slides them back on, glances up, and sees me. Her steps falter.

  “Your dinner is all ready to go!” Katie says cheerfully. She rings up the amount on the register.

  McKenna walks the rest of the way tentatively. She keeps her gaze on Katie. Her posture has tensed. “Thanks,” she says, handing over a twenty.

  “Oh!” Katie says after she’s gathered the change. “I forgot the roll. Just a second.”

  She darts into the back with McKenna’s change still in hand. And just like that, the two of us are alone. Or as alone as we can be in a restaurant that’s half full. My gut has coiled painfully tight. But I make myself look at her. Really look at her, like I haven’t let myself since that day in the park. I can do that much.

  McKenna glances down at her wallet and then, warily, at me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I had no idea you’d be here.”

  “No. I know. Katie …” God, where is my tongue? I’m not even sure what I want to say, though.

  McKenna drops her gaze, her shoulders drawing up slightly. Not her usual poise at all. It reminds me of that moment in the back of the car—was that really months ago?—when she admitted to me how much her app meant to her and how frightened she was of losing her chance.

  Because of me.

  “Here you go,” Katie says, strolling back at a leisurely pace and popping the roll into the bag. She hands it and the change to McKenna. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  McKenna nods with a flash of a smile—at Katie, not at me. She hurries out the door. My feet are still locked in place.

  How could I have forgotten that moment? McKenna was never playing any game of seduction with me—or if she was, she was the worst actress in the world. She was so bloody nervous admitting to me how much Perfect Match mattered to her … So open with me, confiding about her dreams.

  But that was always true. She opened up, she trusted me. Even the other night on the boat—

  My heart lurches. I’m such an idiot. It wasn’t instinct telling me to slam the door in McKenna’s face—it was my own fears. She got closer than I was used to, and I ran at the first opportunity.

  I spring into motion, jogging to the door. My pulse is racing, and I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I know I have to try to explain.

  I burst past the door onto the sidewalk. “McKenna?” I call. I look around frantically, but the street is empty.

  She’s already gone.

  31

  McKenna

  Friday morning I officially hit my wallowing limit. I get out of bed and look at the mess of unwashed clothes and strewn takeout containers, and all I can do is shake my head at myself.

  I know better than this. Environment has a huge impact on emotions. I’m never going to start feeling better if I’m living in a pig sty. And distraction—distraction is huge for moving on too. As long as I’m keeping active, I can’t be ruminating on past pains.

  They are past, after all. I am not going to ache over Jack any more. There’s too much else to do.

  I bustle around the apartment, scooping up garbage into one bag and laundry into another. Wash the few non-disposable dishes I used. Thank God, I have one remaining clean outfit that’s office-appropriate. I toss the garbage in the dumpster and grab an espresso on my way into the office.

  It’s not
like I have any shortage of things to keep me busy. The to-do list for Perfect Match’s launch is still about a mile long, and one good thing I’ll say about Maverick Capital’s space—it comes with a free espresso machine. I’m on my third when Riley and Warren turn up and find me in the middle of my whirlwind of activity.

  “Uh, are you okay, McKenna? You seem kind of … wired.” Warren looks at me like I could snap at any moment.

  “I’m good. It’s all good.” I hand Riley a stack of papers. “I just wanted to get a head start this morning. Everything’s looking great. Thanks for all the hard work you’ve been putting in!”

  “Oh-kay,” Riley says, cocking her head at me. “Who are you and what have you done with the McKenna we know and love?”

  I roll my eyes at her. “This is me. I’m making up for lost time. Come on! Let’s get to it.”

  I dive back into work until a calendar alert pops up on my phone. I’m supposed to be meeting Jill down the street.

  “Keep up the good work!” I call to Riley and Warren as I breeze out of the office. What Warren mutters in response sounds vaguely obscene, but I pretend not to hear.

  My and Jill’s favorite lunch spot in this neighborhood is a little Irish pub. I find her sitting at one of the high wooden tables, her legs swinging in front of her stool like an excited little kid’s. Her grin when she sees me confirms my suspicions.

  “You got the callback?” I say, giving her a hug hello.

  “This morning.” Her eyes gleam. “I know they’re seeing a ton of other people, but … This could be it.”

  “Congratulations! That’s amazing.”

  “Well, I don’t have it yet. I just really, really hope I get it. It would make such a huge difference for my career. An actual Broadway lead!”

  “I’m sure you’ll get it,” I tell her after we’ve placed our orders. “It’s your time. It absolutely is.”

  She gives me a slightly odd look. Maybe three espressos—okay, it’s now been four—is a little overdoing it. Then she bows her head. “I want to think that. But I’ve gotten my hopes up so many times.”

  “It’s a tough business,” I say. “I don’t know how you do it. But you do, and you’ve gotten this far. Think about how much you must have stood out for them to want to see you again.”