9. Sorry, My Dog Ate My Feelings
9
SORRY, MY DOG ATE MY FEELINGS
La Famiglia Restaurant, Seattle, WA
ROSALIND
They say January in Seattle has fifty shades of gray, but I never expected one of them to be Grayson Dixon in a cashmere sweater.
The man may be a billionaire robot, but he looks a male model fresh off a magazine. With dark hair sprinkled with silver, he smiles, passing a plate, those bourbon-brown eyes warmed than you’d ever expect from the icy CEO.
"You're staring," Olivia whispers as we watch him charm the entire Gallo family from across La Famiglia's bustling dining room. "Also, you've been folding that same napkin for ten minutes."
"I am not staring." I smooth the now-wrinkled napkin. "I'm observing. Professionally. For business purposes."
“Looks very business-y from here.” She nods toward where Grayson is explaining something to Nonna Flora that has her cackling with delight. "And I'm sure your sweaty palms is also strictly professional."
"I don't have—" I glance down at the slightly damp napkin in my hands. I flick the napkin out, slapping my best friend with it, who simply laughs.
“It’s you,” I tell her. “Stop looking at me. You’re making me—“ The words die as Grayson catches my eye across the room and does that almost-smile thing that threatens to make my stomach flutter. "Shouldn't you be helping Maria Gallo with the twins?"
“Sofia and Luigi have them corralled." She gestures to where Marco and Luna are competing to see who can build the tallest breadstick tower while their parents pretend not to notice. "Besides, this is way more entertaining."
"What is?"
"Watching Seattle's most calculating matchmaker actually fall for someone."
“Whoa. Falling for someone is way too?—“
"Roz!" Mac’s sister Lucia Gallo appears at my elbow, her chef's whites coat with flour. "Your man just taught Nonna how to use Instagram Reels. I think she's in love."
“For heaven’s sake, he’s not my—" I start, but I'm interrupted by Nonna Flora's voice carrying across the restaurant:
"Grayson! Come, teach me TikTok next! I want to make video of my special Sunday gravy recipe viral!"
"I think you mean 'go viral,' Nonna," Mac corrects from her perch on Alex's lap. They haven't stopped grinning since their engagement, which would be annoying if they weren't so disgustingly perfect for each other.
"That what I say!" Nonna waves Grayson closer. "Now, show me how to do trending dance with pasta sauce."
My phone buzzes. Again. Emily Hanning's name flashes on the screen for approximately the fortieth time this week. I silence it, trying not to think about the feature article deadline looming like Seattle's perpetually threatened snowstorm.
Or about how much easier payroll has started looking since photos of me and Grayson started trending and more potential clients started calling.
Or about how Olivia mentioned last night that Mia's new medication isn't fully covered by insurance...
"Earth to Roz." Dani drops into the chair beside me, looking suspiciously zen. "Your billionaire boyfriend is teaching our elderly Italian matriarch about social media, and you're brooding at your phone."
"I'm not brooding. And he's not my—wait." I take in her serene expression and flowing clothes. "What are you wearing?"
"Oh, this? Just some meditation-appropriate attire. Siddhartha suggested?—"
"Who?"
"My new match from SecureMatch! He's a meditation guru. Very spiritual. Very—" She breaks off as a soft snore emanates from the man who just sat down beside her. "Siddhartha? Honey?"
The guru's head snaps up. "Present moment... awareness... mindful..." His chin drops to his chest again.
"He does that sometimes," Dani explains. "Says it's about finding peace in unexpected moments."
"Like during dinner?" Olivia asks.
"It's very... spontaneous. Very zen." Dani pokes him gently. "Though maybe less zen during pasta course?"
Across the room, Grayson has somehow ended up with both twins in his lap while he explains basic coding concepts to them using breadsticks as visual aids. Marco and Luna appear captivated, though that might have more to do with the fact that he's letting them eat their programming lessons.
"See?" Mac’s other Sofia settles next to me with a knowing smile. "Natural with children. A very important quality in a man."
“For the last time, we’re not—" I try again, but Nonna’s daughter Maria Gallo chooses that moment to bustle over .
"Rosalind!" Maria exclaims. "When you bring someone like him to Sunday dinner, you need to give us a proper warning! I would have made my special tiramisu!"
"Mom," Mac groans. "She literally told us yesterday he was coming."
"Yes, but not that he was so..." Maria fans herself dramatically. "And the magazines say he's worth two billion, though Nonna's friend Beatrice from church insists it's more like one-point-eight?—"
"Mom!" Lucia cuts in. "We talked about this. No discussing net worth at dinner."
"What? It's public knowledge! Even Nonna's new TikTok followers know?—"
She's interrupted by Nonna Flora's delighted cry: "Look! I have hundred views already!"
"That's the preview screen, Nonna," Mac explains patiently. "You haven't posted yet."
My phone buzzes again. This time it's a text from Emily: After your appearance at Joel and Samantha's engagement party, sources say you're likely attending the Drake-Gallo celebration. Care to comment on what you plan to wear to the big event?
I close the message just as Grayson approaches, having apparently escaped his coding lesson. He settles into the chair next to me with the ease of someone who belongs here, not someone enduring a fake-relationship obligation.
"Your Algorithm King cleans up nice," Dani observes, simultaneously trying to prop up her snoring guru. "Who knew all that code came with actual human charm?"
“I’m a man of many talents,” Grayson says. Then, quieter, just for me: "Everything okay? You seem..."
"Professional?" I suggest. "Businesslike? Efficiently focused on our mutually beneficial arrangement?"
His mouth does that almost-smile thing again. "I was going to say distracted. "
Before I can respond, Siddhartha's head jerks up. "The universe... speaks... through... zzzz."
"He's basically a cat," Dani explains to Grayson. “A very spiritual cat."
Dinner progresses in its usual chaos of flying breadsticks, rapid-fire Italian, and Nonna Flora attempting to film everything for her new social media empire. Someone—probably Maria—keeps refilling wine glasses while simultaneously listing the marriageable qualities of everyone at the table.
"Being a doctor is a wonderful profession," she announces, gesturing at Derek with her wine glass. "Though I hear tech billionaires aren't bad either. Any thoughts on setting a date?"
"Mom!" Mac, Sofia, and Lucia chorus.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking!"
I risk a glance at Grayson, but he seems absorbed in teaching Marco and Luna how to write their names in binary code using pasta.
"Actually," Alex pipes up, "speaking of dates... Gray, about the engagement party?—"
"No flash mobs," Mac cuts in.
"But—"
"Or synchronized swimming."
"What about?—"
"Or that thing with the skywriting doves."
Alex deflates. “Babe, I just want it to be special."
"Figlio mio," Nonna Flora pats his hand. "Special is not same as complicated. Look at Grayson and Roz—they meet in coffee shop, very simple, now very happy."
I take a large sip of wine to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.
" Also ,” Emily Hanning texts again. " Any comment on the sudden timing of your relationship...? "
I must make some sound because Grayson's hand finds mine under the table. Just for show, obviously. Because Maria is watching. And possibly calculating our combined net worth .
"I should go," he says eventually, as the twins start falling asleep in their pasta. "Early meeting tomorrow with Douglas Franklin, then?—"
"SecureMatch board presentation," I finish without thinking. At his look, I add, "You mentioned it. When we were... you know."
"Cooking?" Dani supplies. “I heard. What were you two kiddies cooking? Some spicy tacos? Oversized sausages? Maybe?—“
I slap her hand as Alex leans forward, adding to the conversation, too.
“We should probably head out soon, too. I mean, someone has to prep for the this engagement party of ours,” he eyes his dark-haired fiancée. "Since my perfectly reasonable suggestions keep getting shot down."
"Perfectly reasonable?" Mac echos. "You wanted to recreate the 'Lady and the Tramp' spaghetti scene with professional pasta acrobats!"
"It would have been romantic!"
"It would have been a lawsuit waiting to happen," Grayson mutters. He stands, and I definitely don't notice how the cashmere clings to his shoulders. "Thank you for dinner, everyone. Especially you, Nonna Flora."
"Pfffft." She waves a hand towards his face. "You come back next week, teach me more about viral dances. Maybe we make my carbonara recipe break internet!"
"Actually," I hear myself say, "I could help. With the engagement party planning."
The table goes quiet. Even Siddhartha stops snoring.
"You want to help plan the party?" Maria asks slowly. "You? The one who swore off event planning after the divorce?"
"Thanks for the reminder, Maria." I straighten my spine. "But yes. I'm good at... bringing people together. And Alex and Mac deserve something special. "
"No flash mobs," Mac repeats firmly.
"No flash mobs," I agree. "Just... something fun. Something real.”
Something flickers in Grayson's expression. For a moment, I think he'll say no. Then:
"I could use the help," he admits. "Especially since my AI's suggestion of 'data-driven celebration optimization' got vetoed."
"Wonder why," Dani mutters, just as her guru jerks awake to announce: "The path... to enlightenment... requires... proper... event... planning..."
His head drops again, nearly landing in the marinara.
"It's settled then!" Nonna Flora claps her hands. "You two plan party together. Very romantic."
"It's not—" I start.
“We’ll keep our focus on the happy couple,” Grayson finishes.
Our eyes meet across the table, and suddenly I'm back in his kitchen, talking about chemistry and timing and things that can't be calculated, while noticing how good he smells. Like cedar wood and smoke.
My phone buzzes one final time. Emily again: Deadline for the feature submission is actually February 16th. In a poetic way. Think about it, Rosalind. This could change everything for Heart & Soul...
I turn off my phone.
"Right," I say, flashing a failed grin. “Focus on the happy couple.”
Outside, Seattle's promised snow finally begins to fall, dusting the city in what hopeless romantics might call magic and pragmatists like Grayson probably call "frozen precipitation achieving prime atmospheric conditions."
I watch him go, trying to ignore how the sight of his dark Aston Martin disappearing into the swirling snow makes my chest tight .
"Just business between the two of you, huh?” Olivia prompts, leaning in. "Like how Derek and I were 'just getting coffee' for three months before you locked us in the supply closet together?"
"That was different," I protest. "That was... matchmaking."
“Of course.” She looks pointedly at where I'm still clutching my sweaty napkin. "And what do you call this?"
Before I can answer, Siddhartha stirs again: "The heart... knows... what the mind... denies..."
Then he face-plants into his tiramisu.
"Very deep," Dani says proudly. "Very wise."
I look down at my phone, at Emily's last message still glowing on the screen.
This could change everything...
She's not wrong.
I just wish I knew if that was a good thing.