Chapter 4 #2
“What’s my flawed assumption?” he asked. “That your personal experience affected your company? I think most would call that common sense. I promise to give Matchify a fair shot, but I don’t apologize for being interested in you.”
My stomach somersaulted. He hadn’t meant that type of interested. Working at a dating app had apparently made me prone to interpret benign comments as something more.
I rose. “Thank you for letting me finish my coffee.”
He grabbed his notebook and uncrossed his heel from its place on his opposite knee. “My pleasure.”
“We can get started with the tour now.” I walked around my desk and toward the door, opening it for him.
He passed through. “Did you fire him?”
“Hm?” I replied as I let the door close behind us.
“Cam Carter. He’s not in your office anymore.”
“Oh.” I willed the blush not to return. “He gets passed around a lot.”
Grant cocked a brow. “Is that the relationship dynamic Matchify espouses?”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Do you want to do a deep dive into cardboard cutout relationship health indicators, or should we start the office tour?”
“Tough choice. The cardboard cutout issue will keep, though. Let’s do the tour.”
I showed him the Love Pit, ignoring every pair of eyes that lifted to us. Some of them looked a question at me, while others focused for too long on Grant. Maybe our next Matchify employee meeting should address not ogling visitors.
“A bit crowded, isn’t it?” he commented.
“We’re growing big for the space. We’re fortunate to have employees who get along in close quarters. We hope to either add another floor or find a new space soon.”
“With the funding from Vantive?”
This man did not beat around the bush; he took a chainsaw to it.
“That’s the hope,” I replied evenly.
When we got to the meeting rooms, I ignored the signage, but Grant pointed out the Ross & Rachel banner immediately, then wanted to see the others. I couldn’t tell whether his amusement was genuine or condescending, but he scratched a few notes onto his notepad that I was itching to see.
All of the office quirks I’d approved from Brooke were suddenly feeling more juvenile than wise.
“Affection Puffs?” he repeated, looking at the tag on one in the Jim & Pam room.
“They’re knockoff LoveSacs from China.”
He laughed and dropped into one. “They just popped out the old thesaurus, didn’t they?”
“Or used a Google Translate. Brooke—she’s our marketing manager—campaigned for us to rebrand them as Compatibility Cushions or Snuggle Sacks, but when the vote was taken, Affection Puffs won.”
“What about Passion Pods?” He wiggled his body around to get it into the perfect position. “I can see these being a comfortable place to—”
“That’s not really the type of behavior we’re trying to encourage,” I said as the image of Jenna and Grant lip-locked in a Passion Pod flashed across my mind.
The laugh lines around his eyes deepened, like my reaction pleased him. “I was going to say a comfortable place to discuss passion projects.”
I shot him a flat look of skepticism, and the enjoyment in his eyes only grew.
We toured the break room—not without Grant finding Brooke’s Bad Date Recovery Kits in the second drawer of the island—and made our way to the Love Pit again.
Questionable quirks aside, it was hard not to puff up with a little bit of pride over what we’d built at Matchify. I could still remember when the company was just scribbles on paper.
I pointed out the different sections of employees—engineering, design, customer support, et cetera—but was cut off when Grant suddenly turned away and opened a door.
The door. To the cleaning closet.
Cam’s smiling face peered back at us, and Grant grinned at me.
“What’d you do to get put in the doghouse?” Grant asked Cam.
“Congratulations on finding the cleaning closet,” I said, my voice slightly clipped.
What kind of visitor opened random doors? I made a mental note never to take Grant to my house.
Not that the situation would ever arise.
“It’s my job to look behind closed doors,” Grant replied, as though he could hear my thoughts. “Especially when someone’s being held against their will.”
“We’re getting into the cardboard cutout issues again,” I said. “Let’s stick with the tour, hm?”
He flashed me a conciliatory look as Brooke came up.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
She must’ve sensed I was losing control of things.
I introduced her to Grant, and he immediately said, “You’re the one I need to take up the magenta versus coral thing with, right?”
Brooke laughed and glanced at me like what kind of interview is this?
“He needs a bigger t-shirt,” I explained.
Brooke grimaced. “Unfortunately, that was our last one. We’re waiting on a shipment, but it got delayed a few weeks.”
“You don’t have to take the shirt,” I assured Grant.
“No takebacks.” He turned to Brooke. “So, you’re one of the founders?”
“The Founding Five,” Brooke responded brightly. “Katie right there is another.”
Katie, who was sitting ten feet away, glanced over and smiled.
Oh dear.
I knew that smile of hers.
She got up and came over, putting her hand out to shake Grant’s.
“And what do you do?” he asked.
“UX—user experience. Come see.” She motioned for us to follow her to her desk and sat in her seat again, one leg tucked under her. “Have you used the app?”
“Nope,” Grant said.
She cocked a disbelieving brow at him, and he laughed.
“I really haven’t,” he promised. “But I’m anxious to see what you’ve done with it.”
Katie turned to the guy next to her—a new intern. “You can take your lunch, Alex.”
Alex looked the slightest bit reluctant, but he nodded, got up, and left.
Grant took the vacant seat, and Katie gave him a mini-tour of the app interface, highlighting all the areas where we’d adapted to user feedback or made advances in our profile onboarding flow.
I observed from the sidelines. The rush of my friends showing off their hard work and talking animatedly about Matchify never got old.
“You really should fill out a profile if you want to understand Matchify, though,” Katie said, closing out a few windows.
Grant looked at me. “Do you have one?”
“No.”
Grant’s brows shot up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He wasn’t the first person who’d asked that question, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t accept my usual explanation.
He sat back in his chair and looked at me evaluatively.
To my annoyance, my hand stole to my hair, tucking the stray pieces behind my ears.
“You’re not married, are you?” he asked.
“Not that it’s your business, but no.”
He showed no sign at all of being affected by my putting him in his place. “If you believe in your product so strongly, why don’t you use it?”
“It’s fairly common practice amongst tech CEOs.”
“And drug dealers.” The teasing wink robbed the words of offense. Almost. “What are you afraid of?”
I drew back instinctively and noted Katie’s eyes widen. “Afraid of?” I laughed incredulously. “It has nothing to do with fear.”
Grant shrugged, but I got the sense he was enjoying this. “Then what is it?”
“A certain amount of distance is valuable.”
“Maybe. But isn’t your job as CEO of Matchify to understand the user experience?”
“Our data tell us about the user experience, and of course, we have in-house testing. Katie lives and breathes this stuff, and I certainly don’t think my own experience more important than anyone else’s.”
Grant was thoroughly unconvinced, but he kept watching me, quiet, like maybe if he did it for long enough, I’d crack under the pressure of his gaze.
Maybe I would.
“So, what d’ya say?” Katie jumped into the silence, saving my bacon—not for the first time. “Will you fill out a profile, Mr. Wilder?”
Grant didn’t take his eyes from me. “I’ll fill one out if she does.”