Page 70 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

Seattle's record snowfall has finally started to melt, leaving the city in that particular state of grey slush that matches my mood perfectly. Three days of radio silence, broken only by professionally worded texts about the upcoming wedding shower and engagement party logistics.

"Sir," CORA announces, "you've been reviewing the same segment of code for approximately twenty-seven minutes. Would you like me to compile a statistical analysis of your decreased productivity metrics?"

"Not now, CORA."

"Perhaps a correlation study between your current distraction levels and Ms. Carpenter's recent?—"

"Mute, CORA."

My office door bursts open, admitting Kevin from app development, who’s looking like he's seen a ghost. Or possibly a particularly concerning bug in the code.

"We found it," he announces, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "The matchmaking algorithm glitch. You're not going to believe this."

I minimize the window showing Heart & Soul's social media updates. "Show me."

He pulls up our matching protocol, highlighting a section I've reviewed approximately eight thousand times since launching SecureMatch.

"See this variable?" He points to a line of code. "It's been inversely weighting compatibility factors. Instead of matching people with similar interests and complementary personality traits?—"

"It's matching opposites," I finish, scanning the code. "Creating maximum potential for conflict rather than harmony."

"Which explains the medieval knight you told me about and the corporate analyst. The twin yogis and the chaos theory physicist. The street magician and the security expert..."

"Dani's matches," I realize. "They weren't random. The algorithm was deliberately creating maximum disruption."

"Technically speaking," Kevin adjusts his glasses, "it was optimizing for entertainment value rather than actual compatibility."

My phone buzzes. Connor:Grams wants update on you andRoz for hospital board gossip circle. Says tech's hottest romance better not be cooling off before Valentine's gala.

I silence it just as CORA pipes up: "Sir, your heart rate elevated 12.3% at the mention of Ms. Carpenter. Would you like me to compile a predictive analysis of?—"

"Mute, CORA. Still mute."

Kevin shifts awkwardly. "Should I... implement the fix?"

I stare at the code, thinking about medieval knights and street magicians, about chaos theory and complementary interruptions. About a certain matchmaker who's been emotionally taking a sledgehammer to all my plans…

"Sir?"

"Leave it," I hear myself say. "Sometimes opposites work better than we expect."

"But the statistical probability of successful matches?—"

"Isn't everything." I stand, grabbing my coat. "Hold any fixes until I review the full impact analysis."

"Where are you going?"

"To deliver something to my niece." I definitely don't addand maybe figure out why my entire worldview is realigning.

Seattle's signature drizzle has returned by the time I reach Natasha's house, practically mimicking my current emotional stability level.

"You look terrible," my sister announces by way of greeting as she opens the door. "In an expensive way, but still terrible."

"Thank you for that assessment." I hold up the laptop I promised Anna. "New coding club equipment."

"And you couldn't have it delivered because...?"

"I'm capable of basic errand execution."

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