Chapter 19
NINETEEN
“When?” I blurted. “Why?”
Grant looked at me with perplexed amusement. “I thought you’d be happy I provided you with accurate data.”
“Deep, authentic research matters to me,” he said, “so I figured I’d better give Matchify a real shot.
Anyway, filling out my profile seemed like a small ask given what I’m making you do.
” He stopped suddenly in front of a maroon Corolla, his face lighting up.
He held out the key and pressed the unlock button.
Nothing happened. He sighed and indicated the bumper. “Wrong license plate.” He turned back to the never-ending line of cars. “You think someone stole my car?”
“Yes, Grant. The fact that we can’t find your car has nothing to do with you paying zero attention to where you parked and everything to do with someone choosing to steal a maroon Corolla over that.” I pointed at a Jaguar to our right.
“Point taken. So,” he shoved a hand in his pocket, keeping the one with the key out, “did you look at our Matchify score?”
My heartbeat tripped, and he smiled at me. “You did.”
I didn’t even consider denying it. He’d see through the lie in a second.
What I wanted to know was why he was smiling. Was it because I’d gone to see the score? Or because of the score itself?
“Did you look at it?” I asked.
“Of course.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like seeing that our compatibility approached absolute zero had no effect on him whatsoever.
Which was probably true.
I just wished it was true for me too.
It was getting harder and harder to pretend that my relationship with Grant was purely professional.
Maybe the most depressing part of it all was what it said about me.
I thought I’d made progress since Chase, that I’d learned to trust data over desire.
Apparently not. In fact, maybe the opposite.
There’s no way Chase and I would’ve scored a 12% on Matchify.
I’d guess we’d be in the low 40s at least.
“So, what did you think of the score?” Grant asked.
It threw me for a loop even before I realized it was based off of real answers.
I shrugged. “Not surprising, right? We don’t share much in common.”
“Besides a love for maple bars, which, I’m sure we agree, is the foundation of any successful relationship.”
I laughed. “Naturally. What was I thinking creating Matchify when I could have set up a donut matchmaking shop with better results?”
“I don’t know, Vivian. I’ve been wondering that for a while.”
Something about the way his eyes twinkled at me through his crooked frames made me feel like someone had removed most of my lungs.
“What’d you think of the score?” I asked.
He aimed his key at a blue Corolla and pressed unlock. Apparently, he’d surrendered the idea that someone had stolen his car and had adopted the possibility that they’d given it a paint job while we were at the club. “I thought it was funny.”
Funny.
Grant thought our 12% score was a source of humor. Like a bad pun.
What was I supposed to do with that?
“I mean,” he continued, “of course Matchify says we’re a bad match. You think in graphs. I think in stories. You build systems. I deconstruct them.” There was a soft smile in his eyes as he stopped to face me. “But you want to know the biggest difference between me and you?”
Did I want to know? I wasn’t sure. Why were we even talking about our compatibility in the first place? My Matchify score with Grant was as relevant as my Matchify score with one of these cars. My score with that blue Corolla would probably be higher too.
“Is it that I don’t lose my car in ten-story parking garages?” I quipped.
He smirked a bit, but the softness hadn’t left his eyes. “You put stock in that 12%. I don’t.”
Our gazes held and my pulse hummed.
It was entirely possible that the implication was that he didn’t trust data generally.
But the way he looked at me…it made it seem like he didn’t trust the data about us.
His focus shifted behind me. “Hey.” He pointed the key fob over my shoulder, and a pair of headlights blinked. “The Corolla lives.”