Page 49 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

"And these patterns from the coat closet at the gala..."

"I hate you both," I inform them. "And I'm revoking CORA's communication privileges."

"That would be statistically unwise, sir, given your current tendency toward emotional suppression through excessive data analysis."

"Et tu, CORA?"

My phone buzzes. A text from Rosalind:Your AI just asked me about my "preferences regarding office furniture stability testing." Should I be concerned?

"Okay," I announce to the room at large, "new ground rules. No one talks to my AI, my AI doesn't talk to anyone, and we focus on actual work. Like preventing Alex from installing pasta-based water features in a mountain cabin."

"Spoilsport," Alex mutters, but he finally looks at the venue plans. "Though speaking of the cabin... You're bringing Roz up for the party prep weekend, right?"

I freeze. "That wasn't?—"

"Part of the contract?" Connor finishes. "Pretty sure 'helping plan best friend's engagement party' falls under 'maintaining relationship authenticity' or whatever your lawyer called it."

He's not wrong. But something about taking Rosalind to the place where I once swore off relationships feels... complicated.

"Sir," CORA swoops in, "my analysis suggests that your reluctance to blend personal history with current romantic developments indicates?—"

"Mute. Forever."

My phone buzzes again. This time it's Douglas Franklin:Numbers looking good. Press loving the power couple angle. Keep it up.

Then Rosalind again:CORA just sent me a blueprint of your office furniture specifications. Do I want to know?

"You know what your problem is?" Connor asks, watching me stare at my phone.

"Besides having invasive friends and an AI with boundary issues?"

"You're trying to solve an emotional equation with logic." He gestures at my screens full of algorithms. "Some things can't be calculated."

"Like love?" I say sarcastically.

"Like the fact that you haven't created this many algorithms since Jessica's engagement announcement." Alex's voice turns serious. "And these aren't about avoiding feelings. They're about explaining why you're having them."

I start to protest, but my phone lights up with another message. This time from my sister:Mom's asking if you're bringing Roz to Sunday dinner. Also, Anna says your app needs more cat emojis.

"Tell my thirteen-year-old niece that I appreciate her input,” I mutter, turning back to my two closest friends.

"The generators," I say firmly. "Can we please focus on the generators?"

But even as we review power grids and vendor contracts, my mind keeps drifting to last night. To scattered papers and surprised gasps and the way certain calculations just don't add up.

"Sir?" CORA tries one more time. "Would you like me to compile a statistical analysis of successful relationships that began as business arrangements? I have several fascinating case studies?—"

“Not now, CORA.”

Right now, I’m finding it harder to control all the variables presenting themselves right now.

No matter how many algorithms I create at 3 AM.

14

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