Page 22 of No Match Found
I took a deep breath. It might not have been the answer I wanted, but the numbers did calm me a bit.
Brooke set down the paper and looked at me. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to hand over your personal life to the public on a platter. But that’s not what this is. This is a temporary, calculated brand move—and one that has the potential to increase user trustandget us the funding we need to reach even more users. All you’re doing is giving people a glimpse—a controlled one, of course—of how Matchify works. Obviously, I support you, whatever you decide. But the case for saying yes is pretty strong.”
I stared at her, thinking of what Grant had said about Bumble. The CEO didn’t even meet her husband on the app. But just her using it was enough to make users happy.
I could do that. I’d demonstrated the product in a dozen investor meetings; this was that but…in a different format.
One that Grant Wilder would write about. “What about Grant?”
“Whatabouthim?”
I shot her a flat look. “Brooke, you were the one who freaked out about him being the journalist Vantive sent.”
“I know, but you’re more than a match for him, Viv. Don’t let him sense your fear.”
“Why don’t you let him snoop inyourpersonal life and see how brave you feel?”
“Point taken. But you get to determine how personal you let this be. And hey, you haven’t said yes yet. Threadline wants this, which means you have room for negotiating. Don’t let it be all take and no give. Make Grant feel he’s got some skin in the game too.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”
My heart was pummeling my ribs, but that littleweslowed it.I’d have Brooke, Jackie, Katie, and Nick to lean on during this, and that would make all the difference. They wouldn’t let me royally screw up.
I straightened, meeting Brooke’s gaze determinedly.
The corners of her mouth pulled wide as she recognized the signs of my decision.
I bent over and started rifling through my garbage can.
“Uh…I think I misread a cue,” she said. “What are you doing?”
I pulled out the crumpled paper and sat up. I set it on my desk, smoothed it with my hands, then tucked the hair behind my ears. “I’m calling Grant.”
“Yes!” Brooke cheered with a clap. “Speaker phone?”
I dialed Grant’s number and tapped the speaker button.
Brooke’s delight was enough to distract me from my own nerves.
Nerves were nothing, though. I’d been doing scary things for years, and I’d come out on top so far. This would be no different.
“Hello?” Grant’s voice filled the office.
“Grant, it’s Vivian West from Matchify.”
There was a pause, and the hum in the background made it clear he was somewhere with a lot of people. “It’s good to hear from you. What can I do for you?”
I breathed. “I wanted to let you know that I’ve reconsidered the idea you mentioned. Matchify would like to pursue it—with a few stipulations.”
Grant chuckled softly.
Brooke and I met eyes at the unexpected—and, frankly annoying—response.
“Did I say something funny?” I asked, half-ready to retract my retraction.
“No. I just landed in New York. Guess I’ll be hopping on the next flight back to Raleigh. Unless there’s a chance you might change your mind again...” His tone dripped with playful challenge. But it was a challenge all the same.
