Page 64 of Miss Matched

If she could read my mind, she’d see the thought makes me sick. Without Kennedy, I’m not sure how to enjoy much of anything.

“I’ll try,” I say, and she gives me a satisfied nod.

“Thank you. And Zac?”

I look up, and her eyes scan mine, her lips parting like something important hangs on the tip of her tongue—the words are unceremoniously cut off by the waitress setting down the check.

“Here you are,” she says, and it pulls Kennedy back from wherever her mind just went. She shakes her honey brown hair like she’s kicking the thought loose as she reaches for the check.

“My treat,” she says when I try to take it. “Business lunch, right?”

“Yes, business,” I manage, even if there’s opposition doing somersaults inside me.

On my way back to the office, I drop Kennedy at her apartment. She tried to hide that going back to her office didn’t bother her, but there was panic on her face when I popped in earlier, and I’m relieved she decided to work the rest of the day from home.

I wanted her to invite me in as the car idled at the curb, but I knew she wouldn’t. I was stuck with only a glimpse of her building. All brick, in the historic part of the city. Charming and full of personality, like her.

What I would have given to go inside with her.

“Long lunch?” Tiffany says as the elevator doors slide open. Her eyes read me suspiciously over the folder in her hands.

“I was hungry.”

She flips her wrist and looks at her watch. “You left two hours ago?”

“Your point?”

“You only eat lunch if I force-feed you snacks between meetings. Today, you’re suddenly hungry?” Her eyes are dubious.

“Yes.”

“So, how is the matchmaker doing?” Tiffany says, seeing right through my clipped response.

“Shit, nothing gets past you.” I laugh.

“You’re a grumpy asshole, and you know it,” Tiffany says, following me to my office. “Except when you’ve seen her. Then you’ve got that stupid grin on your face the rest of the afternoon.”

My eyes pinch, and I realize I’m smiling.

Tiffany slides the packet in her hands onto my desk. “Don’t forget your meeting with the board tonight.”

“Can’t wait,” I lie. Tiffany snickers and walks to the door, but she pauses before leaving. “And be careful.”

I know her well enough to know she’s no longer talking about my meeting with the board.

“Kennedy and I are just friends,” I tell her, even if I’m unconvinced myself. “I’m seeing Jasmine, remember?”

“Yes. The question is, do you?” She nods, pausing for a moment as that sinks in before she turns away.

Remembering isn’t the problem. Kennedy makes sure I don’t forget. Whatever happened between us was a one-time deal for her. It was the heat of the moment, and I need to get the fuck over it. Keep my head in the game, see this through, let her do her job.

I need to focus on Jasmine.

That would be easier if I wasn’t full of shit.

What Kennedy doesn’t know is that Jasmine hasn’t agreed to see me again—not that I’ve tried to reach out. I got the impression from our last date that I’m not the only one who isn’t interested, but I’m not ready for Kennedy to know it. As soon as she learns the truth, she’ll just kick up the parade of dates again before I can sort out what comes next.

My phone pings with a text from Kennedy: Jasmine’s number.

I should save it. Use it. Be good. Do what Kennedy expects of me.

But knowing the difference between a good idea and a bad one is different than following through with it. So instead, I respond:

Come to my dad’s with me this weekend?

Yes, I’m obsessed. And totally fucked.

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