Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Nori
“Good morning, Nori.”
Jemma’s sporting cat-eye glasses, a sleek topknot, and red lipstick for our check-in Zoom. Meanwhile, I’m in pajamas, sipping coffee, and I haven’t brushed my teeth. Hopefully she won’t decide I’m not up to the standards of Swipe Rite’s singles.
I suppose I could’ve at least brushed my hair.
“So.” She presses her lips together. “How’s our Spring Into Love girl doing?”
“I’m all good. Love your frames.”
“Thank you. I do too.” She arches her brow behind her lenses. “But how are you, really? Tell me everything.”
I set down my mug. “I’m really great,” I chirp.
This isn’t a total lie. In fact, Spring Valley Auto called first thing this morning to say the parts they ordered should arrive early next week, so I’m seeing the light at the end of the car repair tunnel. And thanks to Swipe Rite, I’m five thousand dollars closer to covering the gap in my business loan.
“That’s what we love to hear.” Jemma straightens, pulling back from the screen. “I’m happy to report our signups have gone up three hundred percent since we kicked off the campaign. And our sponsors are seeing increased revenue too. Everyone is thrilled by the early results of the promotion.” She smiles at me primly. “We just want to be sure things continue on a positive trajectory.”
“I do too.” I bob my head. And I mean it. I need the next five thousand dollars coming to me.
Jemma tips her chin. “What are your thoughts on our posts about your dates so far? I assume you’re checking in on all our platforms to see what we’ve been running. Are the posts all right? The videos? Do our captions capture your voice? Is the copy acceptable to you?”
This question makes my palms itch, but I decide to go with another honest answer. “I actually haven’t looked at any of the posts,” I admit. “On any of the platforms.”
“None?”
“You know how it is, seeing yourself in pictures and videos. There’s always the risk of self-judgment. Women can be so hard on themselves, right?”
What I don’t tell Jemma is I’m worried my smiles and laughter might look forced. Maybe not to anyone else, but to me. After all, I know how I actually feel on those dates, and watching myself be inauthentic could make continuing more difficult.
Four men down, six to go. Just a few more weeks.
You can do this, Nori .
“Have you felt hovered over or watched by the representatives we’ve planted to catch the footage?” she asks.
I flash back to each time I’ve spotted someone across the room aiming a camera at me. “I knew what I signed up for,” I say. “And I don’t mind. It’s all part of the process.”
I just don’t want to witness the results.
Jemma pulls down her brow.
Uh-oh .
“The thing is, Nori, we’ve studied your post-date assessment surveys.”
“You said they’re confidential, right?” I rush to say. “Just so you can get an idea of how the dates are going? No one else is going to see what I wrote?”
“That’s correct,” she says. “But the team couldn’t help noticing none of the men we’ve matched you with have swept you off your feet yet.”
I take another sip of my coffee, considering whether to stay completely honest or go with what I know she’d like to hear. Swipe Rite wants a woman finding love, one match at a time, thanks to their algorithm. What I am is a woman who’s been on four dates that have all been just … fine.
Roller skating with Adam. An escape room with Miles. Wreath making with Quentin. Candle-dipping with poor, rashy Clayton.
For the record, four is higher than the number of new men I’d go out with in an entire month back when I was dating the old-fashioned way.
With terrible setup dates and bad luck.
“Everyone’s been nice,” I say. And I mean it. “They’re all attractive. Polite. Intelligent. And the locations for our dates were … fun.” Still, this answer’s not going to set Jemma’s world on fire. Kind of like my temperature, which has been stuck solidly at lukewarm.
“Fair enough,” Jemma says. “And who would you pick, if you had to choose your match at this point?”
Cash.
The name cartwheels across my brain before I can stamp it out. Too bad I’m not allowed to date him. And even if I could, he’s the one man who’s also made it clear he doesn’t have time for relationships.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Is ‘none’ an answer?”
Jemma squares her shoulders. “I appreciate your forthrightness, Nori. But we’d like to tweak the algorithm to get at least one or two stellar matches for you going forward. In order to do that, we’ll need to know which man has been the standout so far. Just name the best of the batch you’ve already met, if you can’t imagine actually choosing one of them.”
“The best of the batch?”
I flash back to the reflections of Cash I’ve seen now in multiple mirrors. Even those figments of my imagination have stirred me more than the matches from Swipe Rite.
But let’s be real.
Those fantasies aren’t paying me ten thousand actual dollars.
I gulp. “I guess if I had to pick someone, Miles was funny. He made me laugh at the escape room. I like a guy with a good sense of humor.”
Jemma clacks at her keyboard. “Funny. Laughter. Humor. Perfect. That’s very helpful, Nori.”
I let out a chuckle. “Does this mean the rest of my matches will be a bunch of standup comedians?”
“Of course not.” She lifts her gaze to mine again. “All your dates can’t be winners. We need our singles to be willing to stick with Swipe Rite for the long haul. If everyone met their match within a few weeks, we’d lose money, wouldn’t we? It’s important that we prepare people for a few … bad dates.”
“Ah.” I nod. “Like kissing a few frogs before you get to the prince.”
“Precisely.” She tips her chin. “Although don’t forget, whether you kiss any of these men is entirely up to you.”
“I remember.” I snort. Definitely no kissing. “Still, I feel like we’re not being entirely honest with everyone about the algorithm.”
“Perhaps.” Jemma’s brow rises. “But you are being entirely paid, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I nod, even as my insides squirm .
“Good.” Her smile is prim. “Your next date is tomorrow night, seven o’clock, at a place called Sir Axe-A-Lot. I’ll send you the address.”
“Great.” I force a chuckle. “Hopefully my date won’t throw any sharp objects at me.”
As we sign off, I have to admit, I’m officially intrigued. This match could be a prince or a frog.
And there’s only one way to find out.
The following morning, I’m toweling off after a shower when my phone starts to ring. My heart does a little stutter step thinking Cash might be calling me. I mean sure, we only exchanged numbers in case of emergency, but you never know. Maybe he needs a whole lot of chocolate chip scones for the hospital staff. And if so, I’d love to be the one to help him out for once.
But it’s not Cash.
Of course it isn’t Cash.
Telling my stupid heart to calm down, I stick in my earbuds and accept my brother’s call.
“Hey, East.” I set the phone on the bed so I can get dressed. I’ve already picked out a knit top and jeans for work. Bike riding attire. “What’s up?”
“That’s what Becca and I wanted to ask you,” he says. “You’re on speaker, by the way. You said we should tell you that from now on. So this is us, officially telling you.” He takes a beat. “Now is there anything you’d like to tell us ?”
A twinge of guilt pings in my stomach.
Maybe they found out about Dorothy somehow. Or about the business loan. Or about me trying to buy Serendipi-Tea. I left them out of the loop because I know they’ll almost certainly offer to help me. And I really don’t want to be tempted to say yes.
“Tell you about what?” I pull on my jeans, wiggling them up over my hips .
“That you’re on some dating app,” he says. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”
“Oh, that.” I wince. Not what I expected.
Also, you two barely do social media, so yeah. I kind of thought you wouldn’t find out.
“Two weeks ago, you told Becca you were sticking to setups from people you know,” East says. “Remember?”
“Actually, I told her I never wanted to go on another setup in my life.” I tug my top on over my head.
“That’s true,” Becca pipes up in the background.
“So what’s the problem?”
“People have been sending us videos of you going on all these crazy dates,” Becca says.
“Four dates,” I clarify.
“You’re … viral, Nori,” East says.
“Trust me, I haven’t gone viral. Not by current standards anyway. And Swipe Rite doesn’t want anyone on their app to become a meme.” I move to the closet and slide on a pair of Vans. Note to self: I need a pedicure.
“How do you even know these men you’re going out with are safe?” Becca asks.
“Swipe Rite does the vetting for me.” I puff out a small laugh. “And these guys are as harmless as the one Pamela set me up with. Phoenix Fernsby was nice enough, but he was definitely not interested in me.”
“This is a bad idea,” East insists.
“Dating Phoenix?” I joke. “Couldn’t agree more.”
“I meant this dating app thing. You need to stop.”
“The thing is…” I plop onto the bed. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Listen, Nori,” Becca says, with a gentler tone than East’s. “I know you’ve been wanting to meet someone, but there are better ways to go about that than this whole dating app thing. You just have to be patient. ”
A squawk flies out of me. “You were twenty when you got married!” There’s a beat of silence, which I kind of expected. This fact is the perpetual elephant in the room they never want to bring up. And I don’t blame them. Their memories of that time are complicated in a way I’ll never understand. Still, I’m not above using the subject to shut down a conversation.
“Just think about your future,” East says. “This can’t be good for your career trajectory. If you ever plan on leaving the shop, hiring committees will do internet searches. You really want them landing on videos of you tripping over roller skates and missing simple clues in an escape room?”
“ That’s what you’re worried about?” I can’t help laughing. “The impact on my job potential?”
“Nori.” East’s voice is gentle. “I hate to say this, but you have to consider that companies might be reluctant to hire you after they find out what happened in New York.”
A lump bulldozes its way into my throat at the reminder. “Book Smart closing wasn’t my fault,” I say. “That chain was too far gone by the time they brought me in. I was a hail Mary, and you know that.”
“Of course I do.” East’s tone is even softer now, like he regrets mentioning the topic. “But it doesn’t exactly look good on a résumé.”
“Well luckily, I’m not worried about my résumé.” I swipe at my nose, hoping to avoid a tremble in my voice. “I have a bigger goal now.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going to buy Serendipi-Tea,” I blurt.
There’s a stretch of stunned silence. Then Becca’s the first to speak. “Violet’s selling the shop?”
“She is. So I went to Springs Central bank, and I secured a loan.”
“You’re going to take over the entire operation?” East pushes out a surprised breath .
“Why not? People start businesses from scratch all the time, and Serendipi-Tea’s already established. It’s also a huge part of my life. So I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure the place not only continues, but thrives.” I take a beat. “Violet was going to let someone turn it into a combination coffee shop and real estate office.”
“Seriously?” Becca scoffs. “A real estate office?”
“What Serendipi-Tea becomes isn’t your problem,” East interjects.
“Maybe it’s not my problem, but it’s a challenge I want to accept.” I square my shoulders. “And for the record, I’m going to make it happen. With or without your approval.”
“Nori,” Becca begins. “We?—”
“Please,” I interrupt, in a literal plea. “I love you both so much, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But I want to do this. No—I can do this.” I pause for a breath, talking to myself as much as to them. What follows is a series of muffled voices on their end of the call, so I move over to the mirror with a hairbrush, half expecting to see Cash’s face smiling back at me.
He’s not there.
Disappointment flickers in my chest just as East returns to the call. “Okay,” he says. “How can Becca and I help?”
Annnnd there’s the brother I know and love.
“Thank you for asking.” I cough out a small laugh. “Maybe try supporting me instead of throwing a bunch of doubts at my head like darts.”
“I meant money,” East says.
“I knew what you meant.” I twist my hair up and secure it with a giant claw clip. “But I think I’ve got this.”
“See, East?” Becca quips. “I told you she’d say no.”
“Well, you were right this time,” I admit. “But you were so wrong about Phoenix.” I chuckle, and the weight on my shoulders continues to lift. East and Becca may not approve of everything I’m doing, but the more truth I speak, the better I feel.
I should’ve tried this years ago.
“Also, Dorothy broke down,” I add, slipping on a sweater. “But don’t worry. I’m totally handling everything. On my own.”
“Let me guess.” East guffaws. “Did you forget to change the oil?”
“I’ve gotta go,” I chirp brightly. “I’m biking to work, and I can’t be late.”