Page 96 of No Match Found
Just like that, the words were gone. Chase’s memory in my phone was gone.
My phone vibrated, and a banner notifying me of a text message from Grant popped up.
I tapped it.
Grant
You’re so intense.
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Until I read the next words.
Grant
It’s my favorite thing about you. Never dim your light for anyone.
I gave something between a laugh and a sob and pulled the phone to my chest like maybe I could transfer the message straight to my heart.
Grant’s wordsburned in my chest like a spark on tinder, glowing, curling, and warming me as I fell asleep. The moment I opened my eyes, my mouth pulled at the corners, and I reached for my phone to reread them.
The first part was the same—you’re so intense—but what came after made all the difference. It was like the rest had always been there, written in invisible ink until Grant had come along and revealed it.
I thought about texting him something.Good morning, maybe. OrI love you.
Whoa. No. There was intensity, and there was wanton recklessness.
I tucked my phone under my pillow and stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, letting his words fill my body before I got up and showered for work.
It was when I was heading out the door that I spotted the tumbleweed box. It had been sitting there since my date with Grant. I hadn’t tossed it in the garbage, mostly because I’d forgotten about it. It had become a fixture on my entry table.
I opened the box and looked at the brittle, brown object that had once been a plant.
I guess you can water it later.
That was what Grant had said when I’d called it a decrepit baby bush. How exactly did one water dead tumbleweed? It wasn’t like it had stems.
I took it into the kitchen with me, grabbed a Pyrex bowl from one of my lower cupboards, put a couple inches of water in it, and set the brown mass inside.
I felt like an idiot, like someone digging up a grave and doing CPR on the corpse.
I arrived at work early, but a half-dozen employees were already there. A couple of them waved to me as I walked by, and I waved and smiled back.
I sincerely hoped that the same magic Grant possessed that had made me fall in love with him would be in play when he broke the news to Russ—and told Vantive why there would be no article about Matchify.
Maybe not thesamemagic—I was selfish enough to want that to be just between him and me—but some of his charm, at least. My employees depended on it.
My inbox was quieter than usual, partly because I’d stayed late last night. I frowned at one of the emails notifying me I had a new message in my Matchify inbox.
I navigated to the browser version and opened the message folder.
Tanner’s name was in bold, and I clicked on it.
No hard feelings, right?
I frowned and reread it, then scrolled up in our message history, certain there’d been a message I’d missed. Or had Tanner decided to message me two weeks after our date to make sure I wasn’t mad that Grant had been the central focus of our date?
It was a strange message choice, regardless, and I had no idea what to respond. Did he think I was sulking? Little did he know I’d been playing emotional footsy with his idol for the past few days.
I left his message without a reply and returned to my email inbox, wondering when Grant would come in.
