Page 34 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

Outside, Seattle's promised snow finally begins to fall, dusting the city in what hopeless romantics might call magic and pragmatists like Grayson probably call "frozen precipitation achieving prime atmospheric conditions."

I watch him go, trying to ignore how the sight of his dark Aston Martin disappearing into the swirling snow makes my chest tight.

"Just business between the two of you, huh?” Olivia prompts, leaning in. "Like how Derek and I were 'just getting coffee' for three months before you locked us in the supply closet together?"

"That was different," I protest. "That was... matchmaking."

“Of course.” She looks pointedly at where I'm still clutching my sweaty napkin. "And what do you call this?"

Before I can answer, Siddhartha stirs again: "The heart... knows... what the mind... denies..."

Then he face-plants into his tiramisu.

"Very deep," Dani says proudly. "Very wise."

I look down at my phone, at Emily's last message still glowing on the screen.

This could change everything...

She's not wrong.

I just wish I knew if that was a good thing.

10

EXCEL AT DATING, FAIL AT LOVE

Heart& Soul Connections, Seattle, WA

ROSALIND

Four weeks until Valentine's Day, and love is literally in the air—mainly because someone just delivered thirty "romantic" balloon arrangements to our lobby.

"They're from Sir Galahad," Dani explains, ducking under a particularly aggressive heart-shaped helium creation. "He says they represent his undying devotion."

I peer around a cascade of metallic cupids. "Sir who now?"

"My latest SecureMatch date. He's a professional LARPer." She adjusts her cardigan, which appears to have acquired a fabric rose. “He’s super committed to the medieval aesthetic."

"How... nice?" I try to navigate toward my office, but the balloons have created some kind of romance-themed obstacle course. "And he sent all these because...?"

"Oh, these aren't from him. These are from the men he challenged to duels this morning."

I stop so abruptly that a balloon bouquet bops me on the head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Apparently, after he defended my honor against the FedExguy—don't ask—word got around. Now half of Seattle's eligible bachelors want to prove their worth through ceremonial combat." She brightens. "Plus side: our lobby's never smelled better!"

I'm saved from responding by my phone buzzing. Again. Grayson's name lights up the screen, and I definitely don't smile as I answer.

"Let me guess," I say instead of hello, "Alex has another engagement party crisis?"

"He wants to hire professional pasta acrobats."

"Still?"

"Now with added fire elements." He sighs, and I can picture him sliding his fingers through his perfect hair. "Think you could meet for lunch? I need a voice of reason before I let my AI calculate the statistical probability of pasta-related injuries."

"Can't." I dodge another balloon assault. "I'm heading to Meet Cute Coffee Co. Mrs. Rodriguez asked to see me."

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