Page 84 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

Valentine's Day.

Groaning, I roll out of bed and pad into the kitchen. Cooking isn't exactly in my skill set, but I'm determined to make an effort. No AI, no algorithms, just me and whatever's in the fridge.

It takes me a solid five minutes to figure out how to turn on the stovetop. I crack eggs into a bowl, managing to avoid any shell casualties, and whisk them with the kind of precision that's made me a legend in tech but probably doesn't translate to omelets.

By the time I'm halfway through toasting bread, the kitchen looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Still, I'm feeling oddly proud as I arrange the food on two plates. Grabbing a tray, I make my way back to the bedroom.

The bathroom door is ajar, and steam billows out like clouds escaping a factory. Roz's phone vibrates on the bedside table, catching my attention.

Normally, I wouldn't care. But the constant buzzing is hard to ignore.

I set the tray down and pick up her phone, intending to hand it to her. That's when I see the name on the screen: Emily Hanning. And beneath it, a subject line that sends a chill down my spine:

"Exclusive Advance Copy: Rosalind Carpenter’s Heart & Soul Feature in TechCast."

Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but it's one of the few emotions I haven't managed to suppress entirely. My thumb hesitates over the notification before tapping it.

The article opens with a photo of Roz looking polished and professional. Beneath it, the headline reads:

"Matchmaker for the Modern Age: How Rosalind Carpenter Built Seattle's Premier Love Connection Empire."

It's flattering… until it's not.

Halfway through the article, my eyes land on a paragraph that might as well be highlighted in neon:

"Carpenter's most notable success? Matching Jessica Gordon, co-founder of SecureMatch, with her now-fiancé…while still engaged to the company's CEO, Grayson Dixon. Sources confirm Carpenter's decision to keep this match confidential was a strategic move to bolster Heart & Soul's reputation amidst rising competition from tech-driven dating platforms."

The room tilts slightly.

The shower shuts off, and Roz steps out, wrapped in a towel and toweling off her hair. "Is that coffee I smell? Because if so, you might actually be—" She stops mid-sentence when she sees my face.

"What is this?" I hold up her phone, the article still open.

Her smile falters. "Gray, I can explain…"

"So it's true?" My voice is cold, sharp with jagged edges that feel they’re cutting into my own skin. "You matched Jessica with her fiancé. My ex-fiancée. And you kept it quiet. For what? Business?"

"It wasn't like that," she says, stepping closer. "I didn't know who she was at first. And when I found out…"

"You decided it wasn't worth mentioning? Jesus, Roz."

She's silent for a moment, then: "It was a mistake. But it wasn't malicious. You have to believe that."

"Do I?" I set her phone down on the bedside table. "Because right now, all I see is someone who's willing to blur every line for the sake of her career."

Her expression hardens. "That's rich, coming from you. Mr. 'Love is Just an Algorithm.' You've built your entire career on removing the human element from relationships."

"And yet I've never used someone's personal life as leverage," I snap back.

She flinches, and for a moment, I almost regret the words. But the weight of the revelation crushes any chance of reconciliation.

"I need some air." Grabbing my coat, I head for the door.

"Gray, wait?—"

But I don't. The door closes behind me with a finality that feels too heavy for words.

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