24. Select-All Love and Delete
24
SELECT-ALL LOVE AND DELETE
Olivia & Derek's House, Seattle, WA
ROSALIND
Valentine's Day dawns like a bad hangover, all grey skies and regret. By ten AM, I've managed to make it to Olivia's house, though the combination of valentine holiday traffic and lingering snow makes the normally quick trip feel eternal.
"So let me get this straight," Olivia says, measuring flour for what appears to be stadium-feeding quantities of cookies. "You got drunk on Italian wine, passed out in his bed, and woke up to find him reading Emily's article about how you matched his ex-fiancée with her current fiancé?"
“Well, technically, I was coming out of the shower. I was trying to wash the shame and cowardice out of my hair.”
“Of course.”
“And don't forget the part where he tried to make me breakfast." I drop my head onto her granite counter. "There were eggs everywhere. Like a breakfast crime scene."
"Only you could turn Valentine's Day into a disaster." She starts creaming butter with more force than strictly necessary. " Though I have to admit, finding out about Jessica through TechCast is probably not ideal."
"You think?"
From the living room, we hear Mia's distinctive giggle followed by Bianca's voice: "And then the robot said 'ERROR: LOVE NOT FOUND!'"
"Are your children writing a play about my love life?" I ask, lifting my head slightly.
"More like a K-pop musical." Olivia peers into the living room. "Though they've added interpretive dance elements."
"Wonderful." I thunk my head back down. "Maybe they can perform it at Alex's engagement party tomorrow. Really complete my humiliation."
"Speaking of the party?—"
"I'm still going." I pull out my phone, showing her Grayson's text: Dress code reminder for tomorrow: Winter formal. Very professional.
"'Very professional,'" Olivia reads. "Well, that's passive-aggressive."
"Says the woman who once rearranged Derek's entire medical textbook collection by color to prove a point."
"That was different." She starts measuring vanilla. "I was pregnant and hormonal. You're just?—"
She's interrupted by what sounds like furniture being rearranged, followed by Bianca announcing: "This next number is called 'The Algorithm of Heartbreak!'"
"Should we be concerned?" I ask as electronic beats start pulsing from their tablet.
"Probably." Olivia peeks around the corner again. "Though not as concerned as we should be about William's latest baking experiment."
I sit up straight. “Oh Lord. What did he do now?"
"Let's just say there's a reason Dani had to close the office today. Apparently, mixing healing crystals into sourdough creates some kind of... explosive reaction."
"Of course it does." I reach for the cookie dough, but Olivia smacks my hand away. "How bad?"
"The feng shui consultant says the lobby's energy is irreparably damaged. Also, we might need new ceiling tiles."
Before I can process that particular disaster, my phone buzzes. Emily Hanning: Feature going live tomorrow morning. Perfect Valentine's Day timing! Sources say SecureMatch's numbers are already responding to the advance copy...
"Don't," Olivia warns as I reach for the wine bottle on her counter. "It's not even noon."
"It's evening somewhere."
"Yeah, in places that don't have engagement parties tomorrow." She hands me a spoon instead. "Here. Take your feelings out on the cookie dough."
I do, with probably more vigor than necessary. Through the kitchen doorway, I can see Mia and Bianca performing what appears to be an interpretive dance about artificial intelligence and emotional processing.
"The robot's heart goes beep-beep-blip!" Mia sings, spinning in circles. "But love makes systems flip-flip-flip!"
"Your children are eerily accurate songwriters," I mutter.
"They get it from their father." Olivia starts scooping dough onto baking sheets. "Though personally, I'm more interested in why you're still planning to go to this party."
"Because it's Alex and Mac's engagement? Because they're our friends? Because?—"
"Because you're not ready to admit it's over?"
I concentrate very hard on not breaking the mixing bowl. "It was never really anything to begin with. Just a business arrangement that got... complicated."
"Complicated like the time you locked me and Derek in that supply closet? "
"That was different. You two were meant to be together. This is just..."
"Just what?"
I think about decorated tables and snowy memories, about Captain Kirk and fire-warmed cabins and oversized couches that have seen more than a fair share of naked skin.
"A statistical anomaly," I say finally, and immediately hate how much I sound like him.
Olivia studies me for a moment, then calls out: "Girls! Come help Aunt Roz with the cookies!"
"But Mom!" Bianca protests. "We're just getting to the part where the robot realizes feelings can't be measured in binary!"
"The cookies need precise measurements," Olivia says with exaggerated seriousness. "Very statistical. Very... algorithmic."
Both girls appear so fast they practically teleport.
"Can we calculate optimal chocolate chip distribution?" Mia asks, already reaching for measuring cups.
"Using real math?" Bianca adds. "Like Mr. Gray does?"
The mention of his name makes my throat close, but their enthusiasm is infectious. Soon we're all covered in flour, debating the merits of various mixing techniques while Bianca creates what she calls a "Cookie Creation Optimization “Rules on her tablet.
"The statistical probability of perfect cookie consistency increases by 37% when mixed counterclockwise," she announces with familiar precision.
"You sound just like—" I stop myself, but not before Olivia catches my expression.
"Like someone else we know?" she asks softly.
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again.
Dani: My professional friendship bracelet maker is predicting that your aura with Grayson is "concerningly tangled." PS: He's teaching William how to weave relationship prediction knots into his challah .
"Damage control," I mutter, showing Olivia the messages. “So freaking professional."
"You know what's not so freaking professional?" She hands me more cookie dough. "Running away from feelings because you're scared."
"I'm not scared. I'm being sensible."
"Says the woman who just inhaled half a batch of raw cookie dough."
"It was for scientific purposes," I protest. "Testing sugar ratios."
"Now you really sound like him."
Through the windows, Seattle's eternal grey seems to thicken.
My phone lights up with another message. This time from Alex: Whatever's going on with you and Gray, please don't let it ruin tomorrow. Mackenzie really wants you two knuckleheads both there.
"See?" I show Olivia the text. "I have to go. For Mac."
"For Mac," she echoes. "Not because you're hoping to fix things?"
"Nothing to fix." I reach for more cookie dough, but she moves it away. "It was never supposed to be…this, anyway. It was just supposed to be business."
"Business doesn't usually involve rooftop make-out sessions."
"How did you?—"
"Douglas Franklin's group chat with Connor's grandmother is very detailed."
Before I can process that particular horror, Bianca calls from the living room: "Mom! Can we show Aunt Roz our new song? It's called 'Love Cannot Be Decoded!'"
"It has a dance break!" Mia adds. "With robot noises!"
"Sure," Olivia calls back, then turns to me. "Fair warning: there's a lot of binary code-related heartbreak metaphors."
"Of course there is. "
As if on cue, electronic beats fill the house, followed by Bianca's surprisingly on-point lyrics about system malfunctions and emotional processing errors.
"The firewall's down, the heart drive's full!" Mia spins in circles. "Delete, delete, but feelings rule!"
"Your children are way too invested in my love life," I tell Olivia.
"Says the woman who's planning to attend her fake boyfriend's best friend's engagement party after their very real breakup."
"It's not a breakup if we were never really together."
"Right." She starts gathering ingredients for what appears to be a third batch of cookies. "Just like Derek and I weren't really in love when you locked us in that supply closet."
"That was different! You two just needed a push."
"And you don't?"
My phone buzzes one final time. Grayson: Car service arranged for tomorrow. We’re good to go
"You know what your problem is?" Olivia asks, reading over my shoulder.
"Besides you being all up in my beeswax?”
“Besides that. You and Gray are both so busy trying to protect yourselves that you're missing the obvious."
"Which is?"
"That sometimes the best matches are the ones that don't make sense on paper." She hands me more cookie dough. "Like a former lawyer-turned-matchmaking chief of staff who falls for a barista-turned-doctor. Or a tech CEO who needs a matchmaker to teach him about real connection."
I sigh, absently rolling cookie dough. "At our age, you'd think we'd be better at this."
"Better at what?"
"At being honest about what we want. About not playing games." I look up at Olivia. "About admitting when something fake becomes real."
She smiles softly. "Maybe it takes getting to our forties to be brave enough for the real thing."
Not for the first time I wonder about what the “real thing” even as I glance out the window, as Seattle's promised snow begins to cascade down again.
"Mom!" Bianca calls from the living room. "We need Aunt Roz for the big finale! It's a metaphor about processing emotions through interpretive dance!"
“Lots of movement," Mia adds. "Like robots learning to feel!"
I look at my phone one more time, at Grayson's carefully worded message. Then at the snow creating its own unpredictable patterns against grey Seattle skies.
Tomorrow's going to be interesting.
At least there won't be any wine to spill.
Probably.