Chapter 17
COLE
I roll up the newspaper and throw it, trying to slam-dunk it into the wastebasket and miss it by a mile, which is just my stupid luck.
Tentatively, I spin in my chair, sighing in frustration, and look out my office window and stare at the glinting-under-the-sunshine skyscrapers all around.
It’s been three days since I posted the Missed Connections ad. I was half expecting pranksters and lonely souls to reach out, but I haven’t heard from anyone.
Zilch.
Nada.
It wasn’t just pointless; it gave me false hope I didn’t appreciate or need.
Even if Mina did see it, she clearly hates me, and I got the impression she would rather sit in rush-hour traffic for five hours in midsummer with no air-conditioning than have anything to do with me ever again.
While our chance meeting on Saturday was exactly that, by chance, I’m doubtful I’ll ever see her again. Not that it matters anymore. It was more than obvious she hates me, even though she doesn’t even know me. Carnally, perhaps, but she doesn’t know all of me.
If she did, she wouldn’t have run a mile in the other direction the other night.
I lift my hand to my eye and suck in a breath at the pain around my eye socket, the memory of Saturday night rushing back in a flash.
The guy who decked me didn’t just punch me; he punched me with the force of a fucking ten-ton truck. It wasn’t, but it sure felt like it.
I’ve had a headache since I came around, flat-out on the club floor, with Libby and Storm hovering above me, crying because they thought the guy had killed me.
I’m made of tougher stuff than that, and had I been on form and not distracted by the woman who is hellbent on staying lost, I would have had the foresight to duck.
But I didn’t, and along with my black eye, I’ve had slightly blurred vision, and a foggy feeling I can’t seem to shake.
The doctor says I have a slight concussion and that my symptoms should subside in a few days.
It’s not as bad today, so I think I’m already getting better, although he did say it could take a couple of weeks.
Both Libby and Storm were mad at me when I said I wasn’t pressing charges against the guy who punched me.
I didn’t want to go down that route. After I explained to him that I was running after someone and that I wasn’t drunk, he apologized, shook my hand, and offered to pay for any medical bills.
Turns out he goes to the same gym as me, so the chance of bumping into him is high, and the last thing I need is any animosity at a gym I’ve been a member of for years.
Gingerly, to avoid worsening my dizziness, I spin around to face my laptop as several emails appear in my inbox.
I give my temples a gentle rub. The screen’s brightness aggravates my headache, and I know I’ve done enough for the day and should pack up and leave.
The doctor advised me to rest for a few days, but after lounging on the sofa all week, I refused to stay inactive for yet another day, even though I did feel a bit queasy this morning.
I scan my eyes down the list and hover my mouse over the Wildcard email with the subject line “Application Success.”
There was never any doubt I would be denied. I met every one of their criteria.
I run my finger over my bottom lip, unable to bring myself to open the email, my mind swinging one way and then the other.
What I need and want is Mina in my life, not another fucking stupid dating app that never works.
“Fuck it.” I double-click the Wildcard email to open.
From: Wildcard LLC
To: Cole Hart—Hart Law
Subject: Re: Application Success
Congratulations, Cole!
We are pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted, and we look forward to having you as a Platinum Wildcard member during our beta testing phase.
When you log in for the first time using the details outlined in the attached document, you will be prompted to set up your username and pay the annual fee. Once paid, you will receive access to the full Wildcard app, along with many other membership benefits.
We have already matched you with another Wildcard member: someone we think is your intended match, not a recreational match.
All we ask is that you stay open-minded, look at things from a different perspective, and trust that we have your best interests at heart. Prepare for the unexpected, the bold, the left-field choice, someone uniquely perfect for you, because we see what you can’t.
Please also be aware that our app is hyper-focused and connects other members in your area, specifically San Francisco in your case.
If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me directly via this email.
Welcome to Wildcard, Cole. We hope you find your unexpected happy ending with someone you never dreamed of.
Becca | Wildcard Matchmaker
I reread the weirdest email I’ve read in a while, once, then twice, then read it aloud. “We have already matched you with another Wildcard member: someone we think is your intended match, not a recreational match.”
When I applied, the application didn’t ask me to outline my ideal partner.
Instead, it asked me to reframe my idea of dating, forgetting traits, occupation…
everything the other apps ask. With no photographs to go on either, since those come after establishing a solid foundation for a date, there are no preconceptions or judgments based on looks.
I actually quite like the premise and think this might help me move on from Mina, since everything I’ve tried has led to a dead end.
When Libby suggested I reach out to the club for footage showing which way Mina left, I told her that was crossing a line and that any further search would make me the stalker of the year and break a serious code of ethics I’m not willing to cross.
So, it ends here. No more searching.
I’m drawing a line under it.
It’s time to move on.