The Trouble With Love Read online

  I blink. “I guess I see your point. It can be messy. Love can be brutal and leave you aching, but it’s also impossible to live without love, to grow without it. Don’t you think?”

  “If we’re talking about a parent’s love, yes. A mate?” He shrugs. “I mean, we were made to fuck, obviously, to procreate, but I’m not sure we absolutely need to love one person for the rest of our lives.”

  I’m still stuck on the “we were made to fuck” part, and because of that, I feel my neck starting to heat up. In an effort to fight it, I lick my lips, pry my gaze from his, and focus on my laptop. I cannot talk about this with Bennett Cruz. He looks at me and I get hot, but innuendos from his lips take me to the point of combustion. I change the subject and give him access to the workplace app and explain to him how the coding is set up, but the way he’s looking at me as I speak does nothing to control my rapidly beating heart.

  Chapter Ten

  One week later . . .

  I’ve been staring at my phone for two minutes, waiting for it to hit nine o’clock. That’s when the app will go live and pair the thirty-seven people who signed up. I scroll down to refresh. Thirty-eight people. Interesting. At least it’ll be an even number. I was kind of worried about someone being left out. At nine o’clock, my phone buzzes with the message I set up: Welcome to Meet Me at SEVEN. It’s a silly name, but it was the only thing I could come up with for the company. The message that follows reads: Congratulations! You’ve been paired!

  I scroll past the warnings and general rules that I know by heart until I get to the main chat. When everyone signed up, they were asked ten questions. Depending on how you answered the questions, the app paired you with whom it thinks you’re the most compatible. We are all anonymous, save for our screen name, and even that is generic and provided by the app. Mine is a Robin. My pair’s is an Owl. That makes me frown. I don’t think those birds even go together. I’ll have to tweak that once the three weeks are up. In the future, I could also just have people use their first names, or maybe a nickname, or just a name they like. I jot it down, noting it as the first issue to fix.

  Owl: Good morning

  My stomach flutters because oh, my God, an app I created entirely myself is actually running. That feeling never gets old. Also, the Calibri font I used looks good. Also, holy shit, the stupid thing matched me even though I was on grey and it wasn’t supposed to. Another glitch I definitely need to fix, but oh well, now that I’m on here, I decide to roll with it anyway.

  Me: Hey

  Owl: So, how does one talk about things without actually talking about things?

  Me: LOL we can talk about anything. We just can’t share pictures and locations and stuff like that.

  Owl: Can we talk on the phone?

  Me: Seriously? It’s day one. No.

  Owl: I mean in general

  Me: No.

  Owl: After three weeks?

  Me: If we both agree we’re compatible.

  Owl: Can we sext?

  Me: Reminder: it’s day one.

  Owl: I’m just trying to figure out what the rules are

  Me: There was an entire rule section before you got to this chat

  Owl: Skipped it

  How the heck did I end up with someone who skips the rule portion of the app? I sigh, tossing my phone on my bed as I stand up and walk over to the kitchen. I have three requirements for today: strong coffee, a hot shower, and a good book. Beyond that, I’m not doing anything at all, except ordering food when I get hungry later.

  Owl: I wonder who came up with birds for screen names? Kind of lame.

  I glare at the phone screen, resisting the urge to respond with You’re kind of lame! Seriously, day one and I already feel like the compatibility sequence must have missed a mark somewhere before pairing us together. It doesn’t matter. I can’t respond anything remotely like that because if I do, he has a higher chance of figuring out who I am and that would defeat the purpose of this entire thing. He doesn’t send any more messages the rest of the day, and I don’t know what to send him, so I don’t either. As much as I like the idea of people finding love with technology, I’m not sure I’m quite open to it, which makes me feel a little bad for the person paired with me.

  I’m getting ready for bed when my phone rings and I see Bennett’s name on the screen. My heart kicks as I answer it.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He clears his throat. “The Vegas conference starts on Wednesday, not Friday like I’d planned. Is that okay?”

  “Um. Yeah. I mean, if you need me there, I’ll be there.”

  “Perfect. I hate to ask this of you since it’s a weekend, but the flights are selling out quickly . . .”

  “You want me to book our trip?”

  “Yes.”

  I pause. “You wouldn’t want to do that yourself? I mean, because you know what you like, seats and hotel-wise. Or will you tell me?”

  “I can stay on the phone with you while you do it.”

  My eyes dart around my living room. Obviously, I’m alone, but he hasn’t even asked to confirm that. I could easily be out on a date or out with friends or have people over. The thought makes me frown. “How do you know I’m not busy?”

  “Are you?”

  “No, but how do you know I’m not?”

  “I don’t know. You answered the phone. If I’m busy, I ignore the call.”

  “Oh.” I blink, pulling my laptop over my lap. “So, coach? First class? How many tickets? When do we return?”

  “Let’s book Tuesday night to Sunday. Is that doable for you?”

  I stare at the screen. That’s almost a full week. It’s not like I’m taking a week vacation. This is part of my current job, but still, six days in Vegas? The thought makes my skin crawl. I hate Vegas. Hate the smoke, hate the Strip, hate the memories I have there, hate everything I left behind.

  “Morgan?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s fine. Tuesday to Sunday,” I repeat.

  “First class. Two tickets,” he says. “Two rooms at the Aria. That’s where the conference will be held. Might as well stay there.”

  I nod at my screen as I click away, booking the trip.

  “I’m sure you’ll have some free time to visit family while we’re there,” he says. I nod again, this time a little faster, my nerves ticking in my neck.

  “Sure.”

  “If you need to take the day off tomorrow, you can. I know I sprung this on you at the last minute.”

  I shrug a shoulder. “It’s fine.”

  “Just take the day.”

  “Okay.” He doesn’t really have to tell me twice. I just didn’t want to take advantage. “I’ll email this to you now. See you Tuesday, then.”

  “See you Tuesday.” He hangs up.

  I forward him the emails and exhale, lying on the couch. I can do this. I can totally do this.

  Chapter Eleven

  I end up coming into the office late on Monday anyway because there are a few things I want to tweak and I can only do it from my computer here. While I’m at my desk, my phone rings. I answer it, not really paying attention to the caller ID. Bennett isn’t in today anyway so I’ll just take down the message.

  “You’re still there.”

  It’s the woman again. I frown. “Do you need something?”

  “Just wanted to let you know that I have eyes on you. If you sleep with him like his last assistant, your career will be over before it even begins.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am.” I blink at her tone and her words, trying hard not to let them get to me. He slept with his last assistant? Is this something he does on the regular? For some reason, it’s not a welcome thought. “I would never sleep with my boss, so I can assure you neither of us has anything to worry about.”

  “That’s what they all say.” She scoffs. “Google Amanda Matters. Raquel Velazquez. Fionna Erickson.”

  “Why would –” I start, but she hangs up the phone before I can even finish my question.

  J
esus, she really is crazy. I roll my eyes and ignore the call. Wesley said this was exactly what the last assistant put up with and the woman drove her out of a job, so I’m not going to sweat it. I’m here to work, not play. I’m here to make my dreams come true, not worry about Bennett’s dirty laundry. Still, I stand up and walk over to Wesley’s desk and recount the conversation. He lets out a low whistle, tossing his Mets cap on his desk, and running a hand through his dirty blond hair.

  “That bitch cray.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” I lean against his desk. “I haven’t told Bennett about the calls. Should I?”

  “Honestly?” Wesley makes a face, shrugging. “If she’s really bothering you, tell him. Otherwise, ignore the crazy witch and let it be. She’ll get tired of calling and you’re being moved to this department soon, so who cares? Let the next girl deal with her.”

  “You’re right.” I nod. “Do you think it’s true? That he slept with the last girl?”

  “I guess there’s no telling,” he says. “But if I had to bet money on it, I’d say he didn’t. I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s not very open to work relationships, despite there being nothing against it in the rule book.”

  “Yeah. I’ve definitely noticed.” I absentmindedly pick invisible lint from my pants.

  “So, you’re leaving to Vegas soon.”

  “I am.”

  “I like the app, by the way.”

  “Oh.” I smile wide. “You were matched.”

  “I’m hoping I was matched with a particular person.” He winks. “The bird names are a little funny, but whatever.”

  Oh, my God. We stare at each other for a beat, then two. Curiosity will not get the best of me. It will not. So, on that note, I push off his desk, fluff his hair and walk away.

  “See you next week.”

  “See you.” I hear his chair turn as I’m walking away and I know he’s looking at me.

  The thought makes me smile. Wesley is an entirely different person than Bennett is, but he’s just as attractive, in a different way. Bennett is more the jock turned businessman and Wes is the tech dork that didn’t lose his surfer edge. He’s sexy, and I would definitely not be mad if we did get matched.

  Chapter Twelve

  Owl: Tell me a secret. Something nobody knows about you

  Me: I was engaged once

  There’s something about anonymity that gives people a sense of bravado. Maybe it’s false bravado, something I’ll regret once these three weeks are up and this stranger knows me better than I know myself, but in the moment, it feels good. I decided late last night that I would throw caution to the wind and open up the way I hope everyone using my apps does. I figure it’s hypocritical to ask them to do this without doing it myself.

  Owl: Wow. What happened?

  Me: Broke it off, which was good because we would’ve ended up getting it annulled shortly after our wedding date. Britney style.

  Owl: Would it have been a drunken Vegas wedding?—Britney style

  Me: Probably. The engagement was lol

  I smile. The engagement was very drunken and very stupid and mostly we were a couple of kids who wanted to know what everything felt like. We wanted every experience within our grasp and we took it. We talked about marriage like it was just a thing on our checklists and not something to be taken seriously, and maybe that was the crux of our problems. Maybe we never really took each other seriously enough.

  Owl: That you regretted accepting?

  Me: I didn’t regret it until later on

  Owl: Did you give the ring back?

  Me: Threw it at his face. The only thing I regret is not eloping. I kind of wanted that experience.

  Owl: Even knowing it wouldn’t have worked out?

  Me: Haven’t you done stupid things in your life?

  Owl: About a million stupid things. Getting married in Vegas has never crossed my mind though

  Me: Maybe you should

  Owl: I think I’ll leave that off my bucket list

  Me: Tell me a secret

  Owl: I cheated on an ex of mine

  I stare at the phone. That’s my number one deal breaker. Like, complete and total deal breaker. This isn’t a for-life kind of thing, Morgan. This is a fun, experimental app. Stop being judgy. But I can’t. I can’t not be judgy about this. With a deep breath, I call my best friend, Presley.

  “Hey, Little. What’s up?”

  “Hey. Nothing much. What are you up to? How’s the brewery?”

  “It’s going. Nathaniel’s on his way here to check on this Wi-Fi because I’ve tried everything and it won’t connect.”

  I laugh. “Good thing you have an expert at your disposal.”

  “Shut up.” She laughs. “What’s going on? This is the week you leave for Vegas, right?”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow, actually.”

  “Oh, wow. How long will you be there?”

  “Tuesday through Sunday.”

  “Oh. Wow. With Bennett?”

  “Yep.”

  “Hm.” She doesn’t comment further, but I can hear her thoughts as clear as if she was screaming them at me. “You’ll be okay? I mean, obviously you’re not sharing a room or anything, but will you be able to handle seeing him every day in a city where no one knows you?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “People tend to get closer when they travel.”

  “Right. No. Not going to happen. He treats me like a little sister or something.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that. He kissed you.”

  “Before I started officially working with him. He’s been on his best behavior since.”

  “Boring,” she says. “So what’s up with the app? How’d the launch go?”

  “It has a few glitches that I’ve caught, but nothing major. Yet.”

  “Did it pair you with someone who seems compatible?”

  “Not really, but I’m making the best out of it. Or I was, until he told me he cheated on his ex.”

  “Deal breaker,” she says.

  “Right? Total deal breaker.”

  She’s quiet for a couple of beats. “Tell him it’s a deal breaker. See how he reacts to that.”

  “Okay. I think I will.”

  We hang up with the promise to see each other when I come back from my trip and I continue packing. Owl has sent a few messages asking if I’ve completely disappeared.

  Me: Cheating = deal breaker for me

  After that, it’s radio silence.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The morning arrives quickly and soon I find myself sitting in a little cubby in first class beside Bennett, not that we can see each other. That’s probably my favorite part about it, if I’m being honest. When we land in Vegas, the first thing I do is switch my phone out of airplane mode and text my brother, Presley, and Jamie, letting them know I landed okay. I put them all in a group text to make it easier, and I know Devon is going to have my head for it, but I don’t have time to text message multiple people the same phrase right now. I also check the app and cave into turning on the push notifications for it.

  Owl: How’s your boss? I know we’re not supposed to talk about work, but I have a few bosses, so I figure it’s not giving anything away

  Me: I have two and they’re both nice.

  Owl: Nice is better than total assholes

  I laugh. Agreed.

  Bennett looks up from his phone and meets my gaze. “What?”

  “I was laughing at something . . . “ I shake my head and decide not to finish my sentence. If I tell him I’m on the app, he’ll make fun of me the entire trip. “Nothing.”

  “Did you hear what they said about our bags?” he asks as we step out of the airplane. “My phone is acting like it’s still on airplane mode.”

  “We’ll figure it out. We don’t have to be anywhere tonight, do we?”

  “Nah.” He glances at his watch. “We could go to dinner though. Or a show? How many of these shows have you seen?”

  “Not many. I did
n’t really hang out on the Strip aside from the times I was working.”

  “Where did you work?” He’s looking up at the screen listing different baggage claims. I’m looking at him because I try so hard not to when he’s paying attention to me that I’ve resorted to sneaking glances.

  “A couple of casinos.”

  His eyes jump to me. “How old were you?”

  “Old enough.” I shrug a shoulder. Age doesn’t mean much in this city. In certain circles, being young makes you more desirable.

  “Did your brother know about these jobs?”

  “No.” My eyes widen. “And I would appreciate it if we kept it that way.”

  His eyes assess me momentarily, as if he’s sizing me up, or examining how many secrets hide inside of me. It’s not something I’m used to or appreciate, so I glance away, looking at the screen above us.

  “Carousel three,” I announce and walk away.

  We check into the hotel and take the elevator up, walking to our rooms in silence. He’s still walking beside me when I reach mine. I turn to look at him and realize our rooms are beside each other.

  “Dinner?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  We walk into our rooms, the doors shutting heavily behind us, and I notice there’s an adjoining door that separates us. One that I do not plan to open under any circumstances. I start unpacking. If I don’t unpack the minute I get into a hotel room, I feel unsettled the rest of the trip and that is a feeling I can’t afford, not now, not with Bennett, and not on this trip. I take out one of my little black dresses and hang it up by the closet, placing a pair of black pumps that Devon and Nora gave me for my birthday last year. I snap a picture and send it to the group chat.