Chapter 6
DANIKA
The door swung open before we even had a second to gather our clothes.
“Oh my god.” Sutton’s voice rang out, followed by a burst of laughter from Gabriella, somewhere behind her. “Sorry. Sorry. We’re leaving.”
The door slammed shut again, but the damage was done.
Nicholas and I sprang apart like teenagers caught by our parents.
I grabbed my T-shirt from the floor, yanking it over my head while he fumbled with his jeans.
My sweatpants had somehow ended up halfway across the room, and I hopped on one foot trying to get into them while Nicholas buttoned his shirt with shaking hands.
“This is fine,” he muttered. “Totally normal. Very casual.”
“We had sex on the couch,” I whispered. “In the living room. Where anyone could walk in.”
“You said they’d be gone for a while.”
“I was wrong.”
We’d just managed to achieve some semblance of decency when the door opened again—slowly this time, cautiously.
Sutton poked her head in first, her red hair catching the light. “Are you decent?”
“Define decent,” I said weakly.
She came in fully, followed by Gabriella, who was trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. Both of them held shopping bags and to-go cups from the Mexican restaurant down the street.
“So,” Sutton said, settling onto the armchair across from us with all the gravitas of a judge. “This is the spreadsheet guy?”
My face went nuclear. “Sutton—”
“I prefer Nicholas,” he said smoothly. “And yes, I’m the spreadsheet guy. Though in my defense, Danika has now seen fit to dismantle my entire organizational system.”
Gabriella laughed. “Good. You needed it.”
“Apparently.” His smile was self-deprecating, charming. The humor he used to hide behind. “I’m learning that some things resist quantification.”
“Like feelings?” Sutton supplied helpfully.
“Like feelings,” he agreed.
There was a beat of awkward silence. Nicholas shifted beside me, and I felt the mood change. He cleared his throat, his posture straightening into something more formal. Business mode. I recognized it from our first meeting.
“Actually,” he said, turning to me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “I wanted to talk to you about something, Danika.”
My stomach dropped. Something about his tone felt wrong.
“Your insights this morning—they didn’t just help me understand where my analytics were failing.
They completely revolutionized my approach.
” He was talking faster now, clearly excited.
“You identified the emotional variables I’d been missing, the human factors that drive holiday purchasing. It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.”
“Okay…” I said slowly.
“So I want to offer you a position. VP of predictive analytics. Equity stake, full benefits package, corner office—whatever you want. You’d be reporting directly to me, working on the most cutting-edge retail prediction models in the industry.”
The words hit me like ice water. Meanwhile, Sutton and Gabriella had gone very quiet.
“You want to hire me,” I said flatly.
“I want to bring you onto the team, yes. You’re exactly what Nicholas Analytics needs. What I need.” He was smiling, oblivious to the way my entire body had gone rigid. “We could do incredible things together.”
Together. Like a business partnership. I felt something crack inside my chest.
“Come on, Gabs,” Sutton said suddenly, standing up. “Let’s give them some privacy.”
“No.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “Stay.”
Both roommates froze.
I turned to Nicholas, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Is that what this was? A recruitment strategy?”
His smile faltered. “What? No—”
“Because it feels like a recruitment strategy. Sleep with the data genius, offer her a job, keep her close and useful.” I could hear my voice rising and couldn’t stop it. “Very efficient, Nicholas. Very optimized.”
“That’s not—Danika, I’m trying to give you everything you deserve.”
“I don’t want a job from you.” The words burst out of me. “I wanted… I thought we…”
I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say, “I thought you loved me.” Not in front of my roommates. Not when he was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Oh God.” His face went pale. “That came out wrong.”
“Did it?” I backed away a little, needing distance. “Or is this just another entry in your spreadsheet? ‘Danika—solves problems, optimal employee, convenient girlfriend who comes with professional benefits’?”
“Ouch,” Gabriella whispered.
Nicholas began pacing, running a hand through his hair. “No. No, that’s not—” He stopped and took a breath. “You’re right. I screwed this up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You did.”
He pulled out his phone, and I felt my heart sink even further. Of course. Back to the data. Back to the spreadsheet that had started this whole mess.
But instead of looking at it, he opened an app. Tapped a few times. Then turned the screen toward me.
“Look,” he said quietly.
It was his spreadsheet app. The dating spreadsheet. And as I watched, he selected it and hit delete.
“Are you sure you want to permanently delete this file?” the screen asked.
He didn’t hesitate. He tapped “Delete.”
“You were right about everything,” he said, pocketing the phone. “Some things can’t be measured. And you’re not only useful to me, Danika—you’re essential. Not because of what you can do for my company, but because of who you are.”
My throat went tight.
“I love you.” The words were simple, raw. “Not your brain—though it’s incredible. Not your skills—though they saved my company. I love you. The woman who makes algorithmic cookies and argues about vegetables in curry and makes me want to stop trying to control everything and just…feel.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“I offered you a job because I’m an idiot who defaults to data when I’m scared,” he continued. “But what I meant to say is that I want you in my life. Every day. In whatever way you’ll have me. As your boyfriend, your partner, your—whatever you want.”
Sutton made a sound that might have been a sob.
“Say something,” Nicholas said, his voice cracking slightly. “Please.”
I closed the distance between us in two steps, grabbed his face, and kissed him. Behind us, my roommates erupted into cheers and what sounded like genuine crying from Gabriella.
When we broke apart, I was smiling so hard, my face hurt. “You deleted the spreadsheet.”
“It was fundamentally flawed,” he said, grinning back. “The algorithm was shit.”
“The worst.”
“So…” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Does this mean you forgive me for the world’s most poorly executed romantic gesture?”
“I’m thinking about it.” I kissed him again, softer this time. “But you’re taking me on a proper date first. Multiple dates. With no talk of employment contracts.”
“Deal.”
“And maybe—eventually—we can talk about me consulting for Nicholas Analytics. As an independent contractor. With a very generous rate.”
He laughed. “Whatever you want. Though I should warn you, I’m very difficult to work with.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And I have terrible ideas about office romance policies.”
“Also noticed.”
“And I’m probably going to fall more in love with you every single day, which is going to make professional boundaries very complicated.”
My heart did that stupid flutter thing again. “I think I can live with that.”
“Good.” He pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “Because you’re the only variable I never want to solve for.”
“That’s the worst line you’ve ever said.”
“I know. But you’re smiling.”
I was. I really, really was.
From across the room, Sutton raised her to-go cup. “To love and spreadsheets.”
“To terrible pickup lines and algorithmic cookies.” Gabriella added.
Nicholas looked at me, eyebrows raised. “Should we be concerned about your roommates?”
“Probably,” I admitted. “But they’re the reason you found me in the first place. Kyle told you about the redhead, remember?”
“Best case of mistaken identity in history,” he said, and kissed me again.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a mental note—some data points matter more than others. And this one—this moment, this man, this feeling—was the only algorithm I’d ever need.