Page 10 of Chilled and Thrilled

“Keep an eye on Sophie for me?” she requests, and my attention is instantly piqued at the sound of her name.

Endeavoring not to sound too invested in the question, I ask, “Why does Sophie need to have an eye kept on her?”

Honor sighs. “She’s been weird lately. First the drinking, then this morning she randomly announced she’s signing up for this kinky dating app that matches people based on… well, anyway.” She sidesteps the explanation with an awkward laugh. “It’s not like her. She’s always quirky, but this is different. I get the sense that something is up, and she isn’t talking to me about it. Just… let me know if you notice anything at work?”

Panic swells inside me as I stare blankly at the chair in the corner that Sophie normally occupies. First Holden, now this? All my worst fears are being realized, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Sophie was interested in me, then she saw me with another woman, and now she’s moving on. She’s moving on, and my own fucking partner stole her out from under me for the last day before a two-week vacation. It appears he—like me—knows a good thing when he sees it and believes I’m not going to be a challenge. Hell, I told him it wasn’t like that.

For all I know, they could be making plans for that lunch right now.

“She’s seemed fine at work,” I finally choke out, pressing the heel of my palm into my eye.

“Flight 887 to LAX is now boarding…”

“I have to go,” Honor tells me with a sigh, “I’ll text you when I land. There’s supposed to be a big family party at Riley’s dad’s house tonight.”

I scrub my hand over my face. “Have fun.”

We say goodbye, and for a moment, I stand still with the phone clutched in my hand. Feeling this way about anything or anyone is unprecedented for me. Even Honor and Leni’s mother, who I was in a relationship with for over ten years, prompted nothing resembling my current level of insanity. We had an open relationship. I watched her fuck other men—Holden included—and the only thing I felt was turned on.

Now, the idea of Sophie even eating lunch with that same man has me so irrationally pissed off, I might crack a molar if I grind my teeth any harder.

There are a lot of reasons this can’t happen. Even if she wants me, too, pursuing her is a terrible idea. Better to leave things as they are. Let her think I’m not interested and learn to cope with the jealousy that will come when some other man—a man who is actually an option for her—inevitably realizes how incredible she is.

My stomach churns as a horrifying possibility occurs to me. Will I receive an invitation to Sophie Nelson’s wedding? That’s the custom, isn’t it? To invite your boss to your wedding? Honor would be her maid of honor, naturally. Will I watch her walk down the aisle, her big, beautiful smile directed at a man who isn’t me?

Growling in frustration, I turn back toward my desk, gaze catching on the phone I must have placed there at some point.

The moment she mentioned it, I knew the app Honor was referring to. YUM is all the rage now, and I’ve listened to more than one friend raving about it. It never would have occurred to me to sign up, considering myself something of a traditionalist in finding partners.

Now, though, what if I just… checked?

Would it be so terrible to download the app and find out if we’re a match? I’m a numbers man, and what are the chances that Sophie would turn me on like no other woman ever has, and also be compatible with my—admittedly unusual—sexual preferences? The odds are astronomical.

If I create an account and learn we aren’t a match, that will put this fixation to rest, won’t it? At the very least, it would confirm that pursuing her is a bad idea. Sex isn’t everything, but it’s certainly important, and I’m not interested in making a woman feel as though she needs to fit a certain mold in order to keep me. Nor am I interested in having vanilla sex for the rest of my life.

If we do match—no. I won’t go there.

There is no “testing the waters” here. Either we’re in, jeopardizing relationships, careers, and reputations in the process, or we’re out and I’m left wondering. This is the closest thing to closure that I’ve found, and even if it’s been brought on by whatever jealousy-induced breakdown I’m currently in the grips of, the reasoning is sound.

Feeling ridiculous for doing this at work but unable to bring myself to wait until the end of the day, I collapse into my desk chair, tracking the progress of the app downloading.

This will be a good thing. I’ll be forced to see that I’ve built up my daughter’s best friend in my mind and confront the actual reasons I can’t let this go. It’s not a mystery what the psychology here is; middle-aged man, who is only moderately happy with his life choices, develops extreme feelings and attraction toward a beautiful young woman in a last, desperate bid to reclaim his youth.

My leg bounces beneath my desk as I enter my contact and basic biographical information. Even the more in-depth questions about my sexual preferences don’t take me long. At one point or another, I’ve explored a decent number of thethings listed, and know what I like. There’s no need to draw this out, hemming and hawing over questions I know the answer to, while wondering which Sophie picked.

When I make it through this, I’ll know for sure that she wasn’t meant to be mine. The sense of power this gives me over my unbalanced emotions is a comfort, and I fly through the prompts with an unhinged fervor, spurred on by the promise of relief.

Finally, I’ll be able to walk away, knowing that Sophie doesn’t want what I do.

Finally, I can go on a date without imagining her crumpled expression.

Finally, I’ll be free.

Without the slightest hesitation, I complete the last of the questions and register. The image of a woman appears on my screen.

Swipe right for yes, left for no.

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