Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cash
By now, we’ve watched the video at least ten times, and each viewing shows the same thing: Nori Sinclair in my arms at the Spring Garden Terrace swaying to “Someone to Watch Over Me.”
The original footage looks to have been posted by some cousin of the groom, but it’s been shared by countless accounts on multiple platforms. Most of the captions have two things in common: the hashtag #whowillnorichoose, and comments suggesting Nori has, in fact, already chosen.
And her pick isn’t a Swipe Rite guy.
To be fair, I look about as graceful as Frankenstein busting a move under a tree, and what I’m doing barely constitutes dancing. But even I can tell there’s a connection between the two people in that video. The way I’m holding her, with one hand at the small of her back. The way she’s leaned into me, her palm against my chest.
Nori and me.
Me and Nori.
If we’d been pressed together, or grasping at each other, or even flat-out kissing, the moment couldn’t look more romantic. With the string lights in the tree above us and the music in the air and the flowers and the ribbons everywhere else, the effect is … magical. And yeah, I’m aware this sounds corny, but that doesn’t make the words untrue.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Nori’s face is pale.
“It’s not good.” I flinch. “But there’s nothing in that video that says we’re on a date.”
“Have you read the comments?” she moans. “That’s exactly what people are thinking.”
I can’t argue with her. The moment between us looks way too intimate to be brushed off. In fact, everyone’s interpreting this as more than a date.
“Maybe you should try calling that Swipe Rite lady,” I offer. “If you two can get ahead of this, there might be some way to spin the?—”
“Jemma!” Nori shoves my phone at me and leaps to her feet. “I’m sure she’s seen the video by now.”
She starts across the courtyard, and I follow her closely, trying not to trip on the hem of the blanket. “Where are you going?”
“My phone’s charging upstairs,” she gasps, as we race across the lobby. “I’ll bet Jemma’s called me already.” When we reach the staircase, Nori throws the blanket over one shoulder and grabs the railing to speed up the steps. “The team is going to say I broke the contract,” she says, breathless. “Then they’ll ask for the money back.”
“You don’t know that.”
She tosses me a dark glance as we reach the second floor. “I know Jemma’s not going to be happy.”
“You’re right.” I grunt. “And I’m really sorry.”
“I’m the one who made you dance with me,” she pants, taking the rest of the steps two at a time. “But I had no idea some random wedding guest would blow everything up with one dumb video. ”
When we reach her apartment, she bursts inside, and I come in after her. Nori heads straight for her bedroom, and I barely have time to look around before she returns with her phone. Her place is bright and light and … happy.
Nori, however, is not.
“Jemma called three times,” she blurts, checking her notifications.
“Slow down,” I say. “Take a deep breath. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”
“Maybe not.” Nori flops onto the couch, phone in her lap. “But Jemma’s going to think I broke my word.”
I take a seat on the edge of her coffee table right in front of her. Ducking my head, I meet her gaze. “But you know you didn’t,” I insist. “What other people think isn’t important.”
Even as the words come out, my gut constricts. That’s some blue-ribbon level hypocrisy right there, considering the percentage of my life I’ve spent worrying about public perception.
My entire baseball career revolved around my reputation. And statistics. And projections. People taking bets and making assumptions.
After my injury, right or wrong, I hated that people saw me as the broken guy. There was no escaping that truth, though. Even my fiancée didn’t want me anymore. So the past four years have been all about me changing that impression on the outside. I wanted to repair the opinions of strangers. But maybe what I really need to fix is how I view myself.
“Jemma left a message.” Nori sucks in a breath. “I’m scared to listen.”
I move onto the couch beside her. “Whatever she says, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” Nori hits play, then switches to speaker mode so I can hear the voicemail.
“I have no idea what you were thinking, Nori.” Jemma’s voice is sharp as a thumbtack. “Dancing at a wedding with a man who isn’t from Swipe Rite.” She makes a tsk -ing noise. “Do you even know who that man is? He’s not just anyone. He’s a professional baseball player. Well, he was , anyway. And apparently people have recognized him. He used to be a big deal with the Black-Caps.”
Used to be . My gut twists.
“I’m sure you can imagine this puts a crimp in our campaign,” Jemma continues. “You put yourself in a compromising position with someone who’s known by the public, so we can’t very well expect the video to be brushed under the rug. I’m afraid our legal team is viewing this as a breach of contract. They could recommend canceling your second payment and requiring the initial installment to be paid back.”
Nori lets out a little yelp, and I put a hand on her knee.
“I tried defending you,” Jemma goes on. “But so far I’ve been unsuccessful. Call me. Immediately.”
Nori heaves out a groan. “So I guess that’s it, then.” She checks the time, and her shoulders slump. “Jemma left that message three hours ago.” Her voice hitches. “I’m probably too late to beg for forgiveness.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. Then Nori releases a sigh. “I can’t buy Serendipi-Tea anyway, so I don’t need the rest of the money. I’ll just give back what they already paid me and be done with it.”
I tip my head. “Didn’t you already spend some of that money on car repairs?”
“You’re right.” Nori whimpers softly. “What do I do now?”
Great, Cash. Super-helpful .
Every fiber of my being wants to fix this problem for her. And I know full well I could cover all her expenses with the car and anything else that comes along. But I also know Nori’s not interested in being rescued like that. So I’m pretty much stuck.
Unless …
“What if I made a profile on Swipe Rite and went as your tenth date?” My pulse speeds up as I make the offer. “Then you can pick me to be your final match at the end, so you don’t get stuck having to pretend to like one of those other guys.” The truth is, I don’t want Nori going out with any other men anyway. And if being her match can turn this disaster into more time spent with her, that’s a win in my book.
Yes, I’ll still be leaving next month. But at least I’ll be leaving her with the money she’s rightfully earned.
Nori blinks back tears. “You’d do that for me?”
My ribs tighten around my heart. I’d do a whole lot more if I could, I think, and a glimmer of hope moves across her face.
“The last date is at the Silver Springs retirement community.”
A chuckle slips out of me. “Seems like a strange place to be sponsoring a dating app campaign.”
“Jemma says they’re advertising to young people who may be caretakers for their parents or grandparents.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” I bob my head. “So what would we be doing on our date? Bingo? Pickleball?”
Nori clears her throat. “Square dancing.”
“Ooooh.” I feign a cringe. “In that case, I’m gonna have to retract my offer.”
Her mouth falls open. “Seriously? You’re backing out?”
“No.” Okay, full disclosure, I don’t actually want to go square dancing. But I do want an excuse to put my arms around Nori again. And when a visual of her in boots and a cowboy hat flashes in my head, I’m pretty much ready to square dance now. I smile at her. “Of course I’ll do it.”
She lunges forward, throwing her arms around me, and I let our hug go on longer than necessary. When she finally pulls away, I arch a brow. “Unless you’d rather talk Jemma into matching you with some random tenth guy.”
Nori sits back against the couch, hugging herself. “For the record, I never wanted to go out with any of those men. And if you remember just a few nights ago, I was out there in the hallway telling you I wasn’t interested in anyone else.”
“I remember,” I say. In fact, Nori’s lips are permanently seared into the hard drive of my memory.
“And that’s when you told me you’re moving.” She averts her gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I knew that’s what you wanted.” Her swallow is practically audible. “It’s not like you were keeping your goal a secret.”
True enough. But what I haven’t been honest about is how I’m feeling now. “I hadn’t met you when I started pursuing the LA territory,” I say. “And I never expected …” I let my sentence trail off.
Her gaze drifts back to mine. “You never expected what?”
“This.” I motion between us. “You and me.”
Her eyes go soft. “We turned into a whole hand, didn’t we?”
“We did,” I say. And the words come out husky. “So we might as well make the most of the time we have left, right?”
Nori nods, then she inhales deeply. “So, we’re agreed then,” she breathes out. “You’ll be my tenth date, and I’ll choose you to be my final match?”
“I’m in,” I say. “Let’s tell Jemma.”
Nori cracks her knuckles like she’s about to go ten rounds in a boxing ring. Meanwhile, my hands are on my knees as Nori makes the call. She begins by apologizing profusely for the video mishap, even though the whole situation wasn’t her fault. Or mine either, for that matter. Then she goes on to explain that she and I are just a couple of friends who happened to be at the same wedding together.
“ Not a couple,” she reiterates—a little too clearly. “A couple of friends. ”
When Nori pauses to let Jemma respond, I realize I’m holding my breath.
“Really? Wow.” Her eyes go wide. “Even more than the Sir Axe-A-Lot posts?” There’s another long pause. “I guess the video turned out to be a good thing, then.” She presses out a weak laugh, and I exhale.
Apparently my Frankendance with Nori didn’t destroy the universe after all.
“Yes. About Silver Springs,” she continues. “We have an idea.” She gulps, then proceeds to lay out our plan.
First I’ll create a Swipe Rite profile.
Next the marketing team can make me Nori’s tenth date.
Then Nori will pick me to be her final match, answering the burning question # WhoWillNoriChoose .
“And everybody wins,” she concludes.
At this point, I wish we were on speaker so I could hear Jemma’s reaction. But after a full minute, I’m relieved to be on this side of the conversation. The woman sure has a lot to say about square dancing at a retirement community.
I lift my brow, flashing Nori a thumbs-up. “Everything good?” I mouth.
She nods slowly.
I officially have permission to date her .
“Of course,” she says, after another long stretch of listening. “That all makes sense. And I’ll be sure to thank Cash for you.”
Something loosens in my chest, and my heart begins to swell. Not that I’m kidding myself about our future. Nori still wants a serious relationship, and my situation isn’t exactly uncomplicated. But at least we aren’t forbidden from seeing each other anymore.
“Right. Silver Springs,” she confirms. “Monday night. Six o’clock.” She ends the call.
I flash her a smile. “Guess I’d better buy some cowboy boots.”
Nori gulps. “Jemma said no.”