Chapter 28 The Perfect Match
Twenty-Eight
The Perfect Match
Nora
The bar is quiet this afternoon—too quiet. The TV hums with a commercial about a drone festival, which I didn’t even know was a thing. I can name exactly one person who does—and who probably already has tickets. I run a rag over the bar, and suddenly I’m not here at all. I’m back in his kitchen.
Me perched on the counter. His half smile. The way he listened. Then on the park bench. The way he believed me when I told him, You’re ready. You should try again. She’ll be impressed.
God. I practically handed him a step-by-step manual on how to woo another woman.
“Wow,” Rylee says from the other side of the bar. “You planning to erase the wood grain, or…?”
I blow out a breath and meet her gaze. “Did I screw everything up with Miles?” That gets her attention.
She straightens, arms folding across her chest. “Maggie is his perfect match, right?” I rush on, because once I start, I can’t seem to stop.
“She’s a librarian. She probably reads all the same books he does.
They can have deep, intellectual conversations about the mating rituals of flamingos. Or fish spawning patterns.”
Rylee blinks. “I don’t think anyone wants to have those conversations.”
“He shouldn’t be with someone who recently learned the reason why planes stay in the air,” I continue. “He should be with someone who can match his brilliance. Not someone who doesn’t know what she wants in five years. Or three. Or next Tuesday.”
Rylee snorts. “First of all—no. Second of all, that’s bullshit.” She tilts her head, eyes sharp but kind. “Yeah, your life’s a little chaotic. But it’s your chaos. You built it. You’re running a business, launching an app, and showing up for your mom. That counts for a hell of a lot.”
“And now I’m pretending I don’t care that I basically taught him how to impress someone else.”
“So?” Rylee shrugs. “You could learn all that book stuff too. Or—better yet—let him teach you.”
I pause, the bar towel going still in my hands.
“And,” she adds, stepping closer, “you taught him plenty. You helped him find his confidence. You showed him how to flirt. That’s kind of the point of relationships. You don’t know everything right from the start. You figure it out together.”
Her words smack me across the face. Maybe the problem isn’t that I don’t deserve Miles. Maybe it’s that, deep down, I’m terrified I might—and that means I could actually lose him.
The bar door swings open with a familiar creak, letting in a rush of late-afternoon air and one unmistakable laugh.
“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite women.” Lach grins as he strolls in.
Rylee rolls her eyes. “You’re only saying that because you forgot to stock one of the beer coolers last night.”
Lach shrugs.
I force a smile and lift a hand before sliding a glass under the tap. “Hey, Lach.”
He leans across the bar, flashes Rylee a grin, then drums his fingers on the counter in front of me. “How’s the slow-torture shift?” He glances around the mostly empty bar.
“Thrilling,” I deadpan. “I’ve wiped the same spot twelve times.”
He chuckles, then his expression shifts—just slightly. “So Eve and I were at the library earlier. Story time with Asher.”
My hand stills around the glass.
“And?” Rylee asks, already suspicious.
Lach scratches the back of his neck. “We saw Miles there. Talking to the librarian. Maggie.”
There it is. “Oh—yeah,” I say quickly—too quickly. I plaster on a brittle smile. “That makes sense.” Rylee’s eyes snap to mine. “He’s always liked her,” I add, reaching for a coaster. “He got what he wanted.”
Lach frowns. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say instantly. “I’m great.” I set the pint down in front of a customer with more force than necessary. “I just—I need to grab something from the storage room.”
Rylee opens her mouth. “Nora—”
“I’ll be right back,” I insist, already moving.
The door swings shut behind me, and the smile I’ve been holding together collapses. The storage room is dim, the air thick with a musty cardboard smell the citrus cleaner can’t quite cover.
I brace my hands against the metal shelving.
The cold bites through my palms as I drag in a breath that only makes it halfway down before it catches in my throat.
The sting hits instantly, and my vision blurs.
I blink hard, scrubbing at my eyes. This is stupid.
Completely stupid. I told him to go after her.
Of course he went to the library. Of course he talked to Maggie.
So why does it feel like someone just knocked the air out of my lungs?
Instead of going home to my apartment and spiraling alone in my own thoughts, I drive to my mom’s place. We haven’t done a sleepover in years, but tonight the tiny, unforgiving couch feels better than silence.
My laptop rests on my knees as I stare at the OneDate dashboard. Another milestone. Four thousand subscribers. Four thousand people trusting something I built. Four thousand lives intersecting because of an idea that started as a simple solution to a problem.
I should be celebrating. Texting Eve. Calling Rylee. Instead, a knot twists in my stomach. Because the one person I want to tell—the one person I want to hear say “I’m proud of you”—is the same person I pushed out of my life.
A sudden thud from upstairs rattles the house. Not a normal sound. Not a harmless bump. Something heavy.
I sit up instantly, adrenaline flooding my body. “Mom?”
No answer. I shove the laptop aside and take the stairs two at a time. “Mom! Mom, are you okay?” When I reach her bedroom doorway, the world tilts. She’s on the floor.
“Oh my god—Mom!”
“Nora, honey…” Her voice trembles. “I’m okay. I just… need a little help.”
The quiver in her voice tells me she’s not okay. I know it before I kneel beside her. When I try to help her sit up, her leg starts to shake—hard, uncontrollable tremors that send fear slicing through me. Her MS flare ups. They happen. We manage. But tonight is different.
“You’re not okay,” I say, my voice breaking. “What happened?”
“I was just getting out of bed to grab a glass of water.” Her voice shakes. “I guess my legs decided not to cooperate.”
“I’m calling your doctor.” My hands shake as I grab my phone. I talk too fast and lose words all while trying to stay calm while everything inside me caves in.
At the hospital, time stops behaving like time. It stretches and blurs into fluorescent lights, hushed voices, and the steady beep of a monitor that’s too loud and not loud enough all at once. Eventually, Mom is settled. Stabilized.
I sit beside her bed with my arms wrapped around myself, as if I can physically hold everything together if I squeeze hard enough.
This is the part I always do alone—the paperwork, the forms, listening while doctors explain this is part of the disease.
I’ve built my life around being strong enough for both of us.
Especially after my dad left when things got hard.
By midafternoon, Mom stirs. She turns her head toward me. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say, resting my hand over hers. Her skin is cool, slightly clammy. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” she murmurs. “But okay.”
They ran tests as soon as we arrived, trying to pinpoint what triggered the flare. Around six in the morning, she finally fell asleep. I didn’t. I sat there, watching her chest rise and fall.
“Do you need anything?” I ask softly.
Before she can answer, a nurse steps in to check her vitals. I slip out in search of caffeine and something that vaguely qualifies as food. When I return, balancing a cafeteria tray, I push the door open mid-rant. “You know, they really need a fast-food place in here. The options are—”
I look up. And stop breathing. Miles is sitting in the chair beside my mom’s bed. The tray wobbles in my hands, and I grip it tighter before gravity finishes the job.
He stands immediately, concern written all over his face. “I heard about your mom. From Rylee.” His voice softens. “I just… wanted to make sure you were both okay.”
Traitor Rylee for telling Miles after I messaged her saying I couldn’t make my shift today.
“He brought flowers and snacks,” Mom adds, far too cheerfully for the emotional ambush I just walked into.
“And,” Miles rubs the back of his neck, “there’s a bag of Fireballs for you too.”
My thoughts scatter as if someone just hit puree. Miles is here. In the hospital. With snacks.
Our eyes connect. “Nora, can we talk?”
“Oh wow—look at the time,” I blurt, setting the tray down too fast. “I—I have to go. I’ll be back later, Mom.”
“Nora, wait—” she starts.
I don’t. I turn and walk out before everything crashes down at once. I don’t know why Miles is here. He shouldn’t be here. I can’t handle this—not him showing up like he cares. I move fast down the hallway, my shoes squeaking loudly against the floor.
“Nora!”
My name echoes down the hall. When I reach the elevator, I stab the down button. He got everything he wanted. That was the plan. So why does it hurt this much? I stare at the digital floor numbers. Seven… Six… the numbers crawl down, but Miles is already closing the distance.
“I should’ve taken the stairs,” I mutter.
“Nora.”
My name is barely a whisper. I force myself to meet his gaze even though everything in me wants to fold. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”
“Do what?” he asks quietly.
“This.” I gesture between us, then yank my hands. I step away, needing space. “You just—showing up. Acting like it’s nothing.” My voice wobbles. I clear my throat, curling my fingers into my palms until my nails bite my skin. “I don’t have room for this.”
“I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted to be here.”
I shake my head, a lump already forming in my throat. I can’t let him say it like that, as if it’s an option. I force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m glad you’re happy. With Maggie. Really. That’s… good. That’s what this was all for, right?”
His mouth flattens, the softness gone as quickly as it came.
“Nora—”
The elevator doors slide open behind me, and I blow out a sigh of relief. I step backward. “Please,” I say, already retreating. “Don’t follow me.”
Once the doors slide shut between us, the tears come—fast and merciless. This is for the best. He’s free to live his life with Maggie. I just have to stop thinking about the what-ifs.
The ride down feels endless. I curse the hospital when the elevator stops on the second floor.
New passengers step in, and I offer them the politest smile I can manage, even though the mirrored wall tells the truth.
My eyes are glassy. My shoulders are rigid.
I swipe at the tears still slipping free.
I need to hold it together. When the doors open on the first floor, everyone files out. I lift my head—and freeze.
He’s standing there.
Instinct kicks in, and I stab the close door button, but his hand slips between the doors before they can shut.
I can’t stay. I can’t hear how well everything turned out, how amazing Maggie is, how proud he is of himself.
I don’t trust myself to survive another word.
My mom is in the hospital. My life is splintering.
I’m exhausted. And he came here because he cares.
He holds the door open and I step past him.
“Nora.”
The way he says my name breaks me open. An ugly sob rips out of me. My hands fist into the front of his jacket, and I collapse against his chest, because if I don’t hold onto something, I’m going to come apart into pieces too small to put back together.
“I’m so tired,” I whisper.
“I know.”
He doesn’t crowd me. He doesn’t try to fix anything.
He only comforts me while I cry into him.
He showed up without being asked. Brought snacks my mom can eat.
Fireballs for me. Read about her diagnosis because he wanted to understand.
Those are the things I don’t know how to survive—because he does them without hesitation.
“I’m not with Maggie.”
I pull back just enough to look at him through watery eyes. He reaches up and brushes my tears away with his thumbs. Instinctively, I lean into his warmth. But as fast as his hands were there, they drop to his sides.
“That should make me feel better,” I admit. “And it does. A little.” I swallow hard. “That’s the problem.”
“But it’s not a problem.”
“It is—because it terrifies me.” My hands curl at my sides, fighting the instinct to reach for him. “I’ve never felt this close to someone who didn’t eventually leave. It’s safer if we forget this ever happened. It was only pretend.”
“It may have started that way, but it isn’t pretend anymore. Not for me.”
A dull ache forms deep inside me from the truth of it. This is what I wanted—something real. And that’s exactly why I can’t stay. “I need to go before I fool myself into believing this is different.” Without a look back, I stride down the hallway and exit through the sliding glass doors.
The afternoon air hits me, and panic tightens around my ribs, squeezing until it’s hard to breathe. My dad said he’d stay too—right up until things got hard. Miles is here now, but what happens when it isn’t easy anymore?
I don’t know if I could survive losing him once I let myself believe he’ll stay.