Chapter 24 #2
“The point is,” he interrupted, “when you saw me at the donut shop, it was not my first solo visit. I’ve loved maple bars my whole life.
My mom and I used to make them at home. But I’ll never eat, see, or smell one again without thinking of you, Vivian.
That night when you found me at the donut shop, I’d gone there out of some twisted, emo plan to eat my way out of my feelings for you.
Falling for you goes against everything I stand for as a supposedly objective journalist. Jill happened to be there, and she wasn’t shy about being interested in me.
I was desperate for a route for my mind that didn’t lead straight to you.
So, yes, I went out with her. I probably enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed your date with Leo.
And I did it for the same reason I stopped asking you questions.
” He stepped toward me, his gaze pinning me in place in ways the solid island behind me couldn’t manage.
“Because every question I ask, every second I spend near you digs me deeper in the hole of this growing…obsession.”
I couldn’t speak. I just shook my head.
“Stop shaking your head, Vivian,” he said with exasperation. “It’s the truth.”
I shook it again. “It’s not.”
He grimaced.
“Whatever you think you feel for me right now…it won’t last, Grant. It just won’t. Trust me.”
He scoffed and turned his head, shaking it as he stared at some random point in my kitchen.
I willed myself to be calm and silent, to stand my ground when all I actually wanted was for him to tell me to shut up because I was wrong.
Finally, he looked at me squarely, evaluating me.
“Lemme try this a different way.” He took a step toward me, then used a finger to tip my chin up so I had no choice but to look at him.
Then he took my face in his hands. They were warm and soft against my cheeks. “Does any part of you want me, Vivian?”
Hands to my sides like I’d been invisibly swaddled, I stared at him.
It wasn’t a fair question.
He was playing dirty now.
Of course part of me wanted him. Many parts. Most, even.
But many parts of me also wanted other things I shouldn’t have. Cheesecake for breakfast. Cutting my own bangs. Responding to annoying emails with a passive aggressive “k.” Tapping on click-bait. Sending the Forbes article that mentioned me and Matchify to everyone who’d ever doubted me.
The silence stretched, and Grant spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Have I just been seeing what I want to see?”
I clenched my eyes shut. Why did he have to ask that question?
Could I make him think he’d believed a lie again? That he’d misinterpreted me when he’d seen through me with such maddening ease?
No.
I couldn’t do that to him. Even if he wouldn’t immediately know that I was lying, which he would. He always did.
But I couldn’t bring myself to say the truth aloud either.
Heart snapping against my ribs like a rubber band, I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers against the ones on my cheek—just enough to close the space between our hands.
It wasn’t much—a tentative, cowardly admission, but an admission all the same.
He let out a shaky breath, and I opened my eyes slowly, terrified to look at him but even more terrified not to see his reaction.
His eyes raked over my face for a few seconds, then dipped to my mouth. They lingered there like he was giving me one last chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
He leaned in slowly—so slowly, I started to think my lips might never know what his felt like. So gradually I wasn’t sure when the warmth of his breath turned into the warmth of his lips. It was slow, deliberate, like he was testing whether I was still with him.
I slid both hands up his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle under the fabric and the quick, steady beat of his heart. Was it possible a little corner of that heart could belong to me, no matter how small? Was there any chance in this big, wide universe that I could keep it?
His hands left my face, and I felt one arm wrap around my back, the other around my waist, where his hand curled, lifting the hem of my shirt. His fingertips grazed the skin beneath, and I sucked in a breath of surprise.
It was fast. Too fast.
His fingertips stayed there for a few seconds, then their warmth against my skin was suddenly gone. He tugged the shirt hem down gently and replaced his hand on top of the fabric.
It flooded me with a wave of relief and longing so fierce, my fingers clenched his shirt.
It was a gesture of respect. Restraint.
Grant was telling me I want you, but I won’t rush you. And that was more dangerous than anything yet.
It made me want him that much more, like his self-control had unraveled mine.
My pulse pounded in my ears, in my throat, my fingertips as I kissed him. My thoughts scattering everywhere and nowhere.
He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped me. Our kiss had opened the door to all the feelings I had been fighting since he’d arrived at Matchify. It was a flood, and I was already drowning.
I pulled back, breathless, disoriented.
Grant’s chest rose and fell, but he didn’t try to close the space I’d created. He just watched me calmly.
But I wanted to close the space. I wanted more of Grant. I wanted everything, every question and answer he had. I’d tell him anything he wanted if he’d just hold me again.
His calm was the perfect contrast to the storm inside me. A storm that was bound to hurt me, and when it did, I knew with every neuron in my overparticular brain that it would hurt more than anything I’d experienced before. More than Chase.
I put my hands against his chest—just my fingertips—and pushed lightly.
He stepped back.
“I’ve done this before, Grant.”
Grant looked at me, half-quizzical, half-alert. “I would’ve remembered if we’d done that before. I’ve been wanting to for a while now.”
I clenched my eyes shut. I couldn’t focus with him right in front of me and my hands and lips still itching to be on him again. “You know I don’t mean that.”
“Tell me what you mean, then, Vivian.”
“I mean the chemistry without compatibility thing.”
“We’re not incompatible.”
I opened my mouth, and he put a hand up.
“I know. Twelve percent. I get it. Listen. No shade to Matchify because it’s incredible what you’ve built, okay?
But compatibility is about more than an algorithm.
It can mean two very similar things working together, but it can also be like harmony in music—two different things that come together and make something more interesting.
Something richer and deeper. That’s what you and I have. ”
The picture he painted sounded so good, so beautiful, like together we’d float along the lines of a music staff, effortless and in tune.
“I get that you’re afraid,” he said. “But are you afraid for yourself? Or because of what you and I would mean for Matchify?”
“Both!” I nearly yelled.
Fear for myself had been at the forefront of my brain, but the mention of Matchify reminded me how much more than my pathetic heart there was at stake.
It was one thing not to use my own product—to use it and go in direct contradiction to it?
It was like Jeff Bezos using Temu instead of .
“Of course both. I just…” I pressed my lips together and forced myself to breathe before continuing.
“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s real. It’s all so…sudden.”
A wry smile curved his lips. Lips that had been on mine just minutes ago.
Gosh, I missed just minutes ago.
“Sudden for you,” Grant said. “I happen to have thought about what we just did a hundred times before tonight. And then a hundred more times since I picked you up earlier.” His eyes dipped to my lips as if to say a hundred-and-one.
My lips tingled with anticipation, so I rubbed them together. I couldn’t kiss Grant again tonight. Maybe ever.
My heart and body wrestled that terrible thought.
“Just promise me something,” Grant said.
“What?” My body and soul were ready to promise him the moon, which made prematurely agreeing to anything highly dangerous.
“That when you figure out what you want, you’ll be totally honest with me. I can handle the truth.”
I thought of the truth as Chase had delivered it to me: in an electronic package I could—and did—open anytime I wanted. “How? How are you so unafraid of the truth? The truth hurts, Grant. Everyone knows that.” I didn’t just know it. I’d lived it.
“It can. But at least you know what you’re confronting. I’d rather that than waste time and energy fighting for a mirage.” He held my gaze intently. “Will you be honest with me?”
My stomach swam, but I nodded. Being honest with Grant meant being honest with myself about how I felt for him. That was just as scary.
“Thank you,” he said genuinely. “I won’t rush you. I’ll give you space to figure things out. But…”
“But what?”
He took a step toward me. “I’m not about to give you enough space that you’ll forget about me or what I want. Okay?”
I gave a shaky laugh. “That sounds like a threat.” A threat I desperately wanted him to follow through on.
His lips quirked at the edge. “I guess it is. I can be patient, but I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you.
” He watched me for a few seconds, then came in and kissed me on the cheek.
He hovered even after his lips had left.
“If it’s the fallout for Matchify you’re worried about, I would never let you face that alone. ”
I swallowed the rock in my throat, more touched than I wanted to be.
He stepped back, and I missed him.
He grabbed the damp rag and headed for the door, and my heart twinged. I didn’t want him to leave. But I needed him to.
I stayed where I was instead of following. It was safer here. There were way fewer Grant mouths to kiss and bodies to hold onto.
He opened the door, tossed a little smile at me over his shoulder, and said, “See you tomorrow, Vivian.”