Page 88 of Failure to Match

“Because that information wasn’t provided to us by your team, and we require the data to do our jobs.” I kept my tone calm and neutral, sticking to the facts. To be honest, I agreed with him. I couldn’t imagine my answers to some of these questions being shared with a member of my family.

In fact, the more time I had to digest Jackson’s situation, the ickier I felt about it. This whole process must have been incredibly invasive for someone who’d been thrust into it against their will.

Consent was the key thing here. All our other Immersive clients agreed to have someone follow them around for fourteen hours a day and observe their every routine, habit, and interaction. Not only did Jacksonnotwant that, but he was also being forced into the end result.

And I was playing a major part in it.

My inability to sleep last night had given me a lot of time to think. And thinking had led to a whole lot of guilt.

“I don’t agree to this interview being recorded,” he said simply.

I knew he expected me to ignore his request because when I reached for my phone and hit Pause, his posture stuttered, and he blinked.

Which, in turn, made me feel even worse.

“Any other concerns?” I asked.

He let out a breath. “Yeah, you still won’t look at me, Jamie. Is it because of yesterday? Were you?—”

He was interrupted by Savannah poking her head into the room. “Your order has arrived, sir.”

He’d ordered more food? But we’d just had lunch—oh.

The seductive aroma of fresh coffee filled the room when Savannah walked in. She placed a steaming cup of heaven in front of Jackson, along with a side of cream, honey, and macarons.

Caffeine and sugar. My sleep-deprived brain drooled at the sight, and I cursed myself for not having thought to grab a cup before we’d sat down. The small Americano I’d had early this morning was on its last legs.

“Thank you,” Jackson said. “That’ll be all.”

She disappeared with another smile, and I shifted my attention back to the booklet, my mouth watering. “If you don’t have any other immediate concerns, we can get started.”

Instead of answering, Jackson slid the hot cup of temptation toward me. “For you.”

My gaze flew up to his, my heart stammering when I met their piercing blue. How was he more attractive every time I looked at him? Where was his ceiling?

“Thank you,” I half-croaked as my fingers wrapped around the warm, inviting cup. It was delicious. Rich and dark with a slight hint of cocoa.

His thoughtfulness didn’t help the guilt I was drowning in.

Jackson snatched up a purple macaron and bit into it, waiting as I took my time, savoring the first few sips of my coffee. The sharp edges of my mood were already starting to soften.

“All right, so… because there was so much pertinent info missing from our original dataset, I want to start by filling in some of those gaps,” I eventually said, placing my cup down. “I’ll need to combine your answers with my own observations—which we’ll also go over—in order to create a new, more accurate profile for you. After that, we can move on to the standard check-in. Any questions?”

He shook his head.

Fiddling with my pen, I decided to go off-script for a second. “I realize that your current situation isn’t exactly ideal, but I think… if you can give me some honest answers, I could really help you. Getting married might not be so bad if I can find you someone you like—someone you’re really compatible with, you know?”

I risked a glance up at him but couldn’t decipher his expression.

“How does that sound?” I tried. It was my way of letting him know I was on his side; but I wasn’t sure it translated.

Unsure of what else to do or say, I chose to interpret his unblinking silence as ayes.

“Great.” My eyes scanned the first question on the first page… three times.

I placed my pen down, picked it back up, sipped my coffee.

“Are we going to get started?” Jackson asked.

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