Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
It was an out-of-body experience, seeing the photo.
I remembered the moment perfectly, but I’d experienced it from within—the smell of Grant’s cologne, the flickering sparks in the limited space between us, the thumping of my heart against my ribs.
I’d wondered at the time if I’d exaggerated how close we’d been.
His body had never actually touched mine, after all.
But looking at the photo…no. I hadn’t exaggerated it.
I could feel the electrical charge just looking at us.
“I thought you said you kissed at your apartment,” Katie said.
“We did. This was a different time. And we didn’t kiss.”
It was silent for a moment. “You mean to tell me you were that close and didn’t kiss?”
I nodded absently, my gaze shifting back to the headline, reminding me why I was looking at a photo of Grant and me in the first place—one that looked like a low-quality paparazzi snap. Someone had written an article about us.
My skin crawled with the feeling of exposure. Vulnerability.
Some of the most personal moments of my life were on display for anyone to see—and to criticize.
“Who took the picture?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, a sick feeling in my stomach. Who had been watching us in the parking lot? And how would they have even known we were there? And why would they have thought to watch us?
“But you remember this moment?”
“Yeah, it was right after my date with Tann—” I stopped.
“What? Why are you making that face?”
I navigated to my Matchify inbox, my heart racing. “I hadn’t heard from Tanner since the date, but I got this from him this morning.” I moved aside for Katie to read the cryptic message.
Her brow furrowed. “Dude’s weird. Hard feelings about what?” Her eyes widened, and she looked at me. “You think this was him?”
I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the more I thought about it, the more the pieces clicked into place. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. He was maybe the only person who knew we were there. And he’s been trying to get his big break into journalism.”
“The Grant fangirl. I remember. Well, Viv, I know you said you liked Tanner, but I’m afraid he did you dirty. And you must’ve been fangirling over Grant too for Tanner to stalk you afterward for this picture.”
“I was not fangirling.” I tried to remember what things had been like between Grant and me on the date. Maybe we’d acted in some sort of way to elicit interest from Tanner, but the guy had been so fixated on Grant, I’d be surprised if he’d noticed. “Have you read the article?”
“Yep. He makes a few thinly veiled insinuations about Grant’s integrity, and he talks about you and Grant having a 12% compatibility score. Did you tell him about that?”
“What? Of course not!” My brows drew together. “I didn’t even know at the time.”
And how could he have known? The entire situation made less sense now that the percentage was in the picture. But it’s not like he couldn’t have weaseled the information out of someone who did know.
My stomach swam. The photo was invasive; the 12% stat? That felt like standing on a stage naked. My only consolation was the low-budget look of the website. This wasn’t the sort of place getting major web traffic.
“How did you even find this?” I asked.
“A friend sent it to me on TikTok. It’s got…a lot of views.”
My chest clenched. “It does? And what do you mean on TikTok?”
“Someone made a video about the article.”
The door opened, and Grant stopped short in the doorway. Grant, whose integrity—the thing he valued most—had been called into question.
Katie grimaced. “I’ll leave you two to discuss.”
“Discuss what?” Grant asked as she passed him and left the office.
I blew a breath through my lips. “This.” I turned my computer screen and the photo of us toward him.
His brows went up, and he approached. After analyzing it for a minute, he tipped his head to the side like not bad. “We look good.”
“Grant,” I said severely, though I was privately glad we agreed on that point. “This is bad.” I scrolled up to the headline.
He leaned over my shoulder, putting a hand on the desk.
I glanced up at him. This man had no idea what giving space meant.
And I loved it.
But now was not the time.
Brow furrowed, he put his hand over mine on the mouse, scrolled down, and we read the article silently.
The little V between his brows had deepened considerably by the time he stood straight, crossed his arms, and rested his fist against his chin. “Looks like Tanner took my advice about finding the story no one else had told yet.”
“Why do you think it’s Tanner? I mean, that’s who I thought of too, but there’s no way to be sure, right?”
“It just makes sense.”
“But how could he know about the 12% thing?”
“He’s a journalist, Vivian. We’re diggers. One of your employees must’ve told him.”
I hated that idea. Would one of them have done something like that? I buy them cookies, and they spill company and personal secrets to the press? Between that and the paparazzi photo, my privacy felt nearly nonexistent.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what?”
“For what he said about your integrity.”
Grant shrugged. “He’s not wrong, is he?”
“Of course he is,” I said. “You’re recusing yourself from the article.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“Well, he should’ve done more research before throwing you under the bus—his own idol.” My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen. It was a text from an old college friend, sending me a TikTok video. The TikTok video.
It had 53k views.
Over the next two hours, more texts and emails came in—to Grant and me—and the TikTok video shot to 204k views.
“I’ve got to call Russ,” Grant said. “His flight arrived in New York a half hour ago, and this is what he’ll be coming back to.” He took out his phone.
My own started buzzing again, and my stomach plummeted at the sight of the caller ID. “It’s Vantive.”
Grant grimaced sympathetically and headed for the door. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
I pulled in a slow, shaky breath, then answered.