Chapter 33
INA
Iloved him so much I hated him. How could he be so beautiful and so hateful at the same time? My heart was shattered.
I had promised Abby I wouldn’t run back to Wyoming, but that was before. Before I got put on leave. Norma could say it was temporary, but there was no coming back from that. The gossip mill would be churning out stories about why I had been banished.
I would never step foot in that place again. I wouldn’t allow them the pleasure of laughing at me. Or firing me, which was also a strong possibility.
“What?” I asked, my voice flat. “What else could you possibly have to say?”
“Everything. I have everything to say. You have to let me explain.”
“Explain what? I know what you’re going to say. I don’t need to hear it. I don’t care. You are who you are. And it’s over. Done.”
“No, it’s not done,” he said, his voice rough. “I messed up. I said things I didn’t mean because Keith was threatening to go to the board and I panicked. I thought if I could convince him nothing was happening between us, I could protect you.”
“Protect me?” I laughed bitterly. “You weren’t protecting me. You were protecting yourself and your precious company.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then what were you doing?” I yanked my arm free from his grasp. “Because from where I was standing, it sounded like you were telling your friend that I was nothing. That what we had was fake. That you don’t believe in love, still, even after everything.”
“I was lying to him!”
“Were you lying to him or lying to me?” The question came out full of bitterness. “Because it all sounded pretty convincing. You didn’t stumble over your words. You didn’t hesitate. You laid it all out so clearly, so perfectly. Like you’d rehearsed it.”
His jaw clenched. “I’ve spent my entire adult life building walls around myself. I know exactly what to say to make people believe I don’t care. It’s what I do. It’s how I’ve survived.”
“Well, congratulations, it worked.” Tears were streaming down my face now and I didn’t bother wiping them away. “You convinced me and you live to survive another day.”
“Ina, see reason.”
“Do you know what the worst part is?” I cut him off.
“I told you what I wanted. I was so stupidly honest with you from the beginning. I told you I believed in love. I told you I wanted romance and commitment and all those things you think are for suckers. And you knew that. You knew exactly what you were getting into when you pursued me.”
“I know.”
“And you did it anyway!” My voice cracked. “You made me believe you had changed. You made me think that maybe you were different than what everyone said about you. That grumpy, cynical Dane Kavanagh actually had a heart buried somewhere under all that ice.”
“I do!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I do have a heart and you’re the one who reawakened it. You’re the one who made me believe that maybe all the bullshit I’ve believed for years was wrong.”
“Then why did you say those things to Keith?”
“Because I was scared!” The admission seemed to cost him something.
“Because Keith was standing in my penthouse threatening everything, and all I could think about was keeping you safe. I wanted to keep you away from the board and the gossip and the potential fallout. I thought if I could make him believe nothing was happening, I could figure out a better way to handle this.”
“By throwing me under the bus?”
“I wasn’t throwing you under the bus. I was taking the hit!”
“No, you were lying. And maybe that’s what you do best.” I stepped back toward the subway entrance. “But here’s the thing, Dane, you knew what I wanted. Didn’t I make that clear? I wanted real. I wanted magic. I wanted someone who believed in love the way I do.”
“And I’m getting there,” he said. “I’m learning to believe.”
“No, you don’t. You believe in data. You believe in algorithms. You believe in things you can measure and quantify and put in a spreadsheet.
” My voice was rising now. I didn’t care that people were staring as they passed us.
“I actually liked you. More than liked you. I fell in love with you. And I thought you felt the same way. I am such an idiot.”
“I do feel the same way. We’re both idiots!”
“Bullshit.”
“I was scared!”
“About the consequences of your own actions?”
“No!” He grabbed my arm again, more firmly this time. “About losing you. I was scared of losing you before I even had a chance to figure out what this was between us.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly it physically hurt.
But I couldn’t. Not after what I’d heard.
“Let me go, Dane.”
“We matched,” he blurted out.
I froze. “What?”
“On Cupid’s Arrow. We matched.” He was talking fast now, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I made a profile. I answered every question honestly. I put in my actual interests, my actual values, what I’m actually looking for. And the algorithm matched us.”
I stared at him. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Check your email.”
I didn’t have to check my email. I had seen it, but I had no idea it was him.
“Look. Here’s my profile. Here’s yours. The system matched us at almost a hundred percent compatibility. Do you know how rare that is? The algorithm doesn’t lie.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. “You made a fake profile to trick me?” My voice came out hollow.
“No! It’s not fake. It’s the realest thing I’ve ever done.
” He was holding his phone out to me like it was proof of something.
“I spent hours on it. I answered every single question as honestly as I could. I didn’t game the system or manipulate the data.
I just put myself out there and the algorithm found you. ”
“The algorithm,” I repeated flatly. “Here we go again.”
“Yes! Don’t you see? This is what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. The data doesn’t lie. The system works. We’re compatible. The science proves it.”
And just like that, whatever tiny fragment of hope I’d been clinging to shattered completely.
“The data,” I said softly. “The algorithm. The science.”
“Yes.” He looked so earnest. I could see he was desperate for me to understand. “We match. It’s meant to be. The numbers—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. “Just stop.”
He looked confused.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Fresh tears burned my eyes, but these were different.
These were angry tears. “You’re standing here trying to convince me that we belong together by citing data.
By showing me percentages and compatibility scores.
Like I’m some kind of equation you can plug your dick into. ”
“Whoa, that’s not what I’m doing,” he said, shaking his head.
“That’s exactly what you’re doing!” I groaned in frustration. “You needed an algorithm to tell you it was okay to want me. You needed data to confirm what you were feeling.”
“I’m not saying that’s the only reason, but the data—”
“The data, the data, the data!” I was shouting now. “That’s all you care about! You can’t just feel something and trust it. You have to have proof. You can’t even trust your own heart without it.”
He reached for me but I stepped back.
I felt tears streaming down my face. “Love isn’t something you can buy and sell, Dane. It’s not a product. It’s not data. It’s magic. It’s a feeling. It’s trusting someone enough to be vulnerable even when you’re terrified. It’s jumping without knowing if there’s a net.”
“I know that.”
“You don’t! You really don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have needed that match to tell you what you felt. What I felt for you was the realest thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life.”
“That’s what I feel too.”
“But you needed confirmation! You needed your precious algorithm to tell you it was okay to feel that way. You needed data to back up your emotions like they weren’t valid without it.
” I wiped my eyes, my hands shaking. “And I hate that. I hate that you can’t just love me without needing a computer to tell you it’s the right decision.
” I shoved my badge against his chest. “I quit.”
“What?”
“I quit. I’m done. I can’t work for you. No, I won’t work for you.”
“Ina, please.”
“I’m done, Dane. I’m done.” I ran down the rest of the stairs and through the turnstile. I didn’t look back. I didn’t care if he followed.
I found a seat in the corner and finally let myself fall apart. Back to being the crazy girl on the train. The train pulled away from the station. A few people looked at me with concern, but most pretended not to notice.
I cried for the relationship I thought we had. I shed tears for the man I thought he was. Mostly, I cried for the future I imagined we might build together.
I cried for being stupid enough to fall in love with my boss.
“Excuse me, dear.”
I looked up through blurry eyes to find an older woman sitting across from me. She was probably in her seventies, with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners.
“Yes?”
“Do you need help?” The sweetness in her voice was like a soothing balm over my ragged soul.
My tears cleared enough for me to speak. “Thank you for asking, but I’m alright. I mean, I’m going through something, but it’s not the end of the world. It just feels like it.”
“Man trouble?”
I let out a watery laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’ve been alive long enough to recognize that particular brand of heartbreak.” She pulled a packet of tissues from her purse and handed it to me. “What did he do? Sleep with your sister?”
I smiled through my tears. “Nothing like that, thankfully. We work together and now it’s all falling apart.”
She nodded like she understood. “Lots of couples meet at work, but it’s certainly a gamble.”
“He said he didn’t believe in love and now he says he’s changed.” I frowned. “What do you think? Can people change?”
“In most ways, I would say no, but learning to believe in love can happen, even if it happens a bit late in life.” The old woman smiled.
“Sometimes a man needs to lose something before he realizes how much it meant to him. Before he stops being afraid and just lets himself feel.” She patted my knee.
“My husband was a difficult man at first. Drove me absolutely insane.”
“What happened?”
“I left him.” She said it matter-of-factly. “I moved out. Got my own apartment. Didn’t talk to him for two months.”
“And?”
“And he showed up at my door in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, looking like a drowned rat. He said living without me was unbearable. His life didn’t make sense without me in it.”
That brought a smile to my face. “Sounds like a sweet man.”
“Yes, but he was also a fool. He caught pneumonia and almost died. I had to nurse him back to health.” She smiled at the memory.
“How long were you married?”
“Forty-two years before he passed.” Her eyes were soft with memory. “Best decision I ever made, leaving him that first time. Because when he came back, he understood what he wanted. His doubts had burned away while we were apart.”
The train was slowing for the next stop. It was my station.
“Thank you,” I said, standing. “For the tissues and the sympathetic ear.”
“Give him time to understand what he wants, dear.” She squeezed my hand as I passed. “And then see if he’s brave enough to come back.”
What if Dane never came to his senses? What if his need for data and logic was just who he was, fundamental and unchangeable? The man was who he was. Who did I think I was to come along a change him?