Page 91 of Failure to Match

His stupidly handsome face split into a stupidly handsome grin. “Come on. I know you have questions.”

So. Many.

I didn’t even know where to start.

“You think romantic love is emotional snake oil. This checks out.”

At some point over the last little while, my chair had swiveled in his direction and his chair had swiveled in mine. We were face to face, our legs all but tangled.

“What about you?” His knee gently nudged mine. “When was your last relationship?”

“This interview isn’t about me.”

“I’d still like to know,” he said. “If you’re willing to share.”

Was I willing to share? It felt like we were dangerously close to crossing yet another professional boundary and I wasn’t sure how many more we could get away with before this whole thing blew up.

“It’s been just over two years,” I said.

Unsatisfied with my lack of detail, Jackson said nothing.

“He wasn’t ready to be in a committed relationship, so we decided to part ways.” Simple, standard stuff. Nothing too exciting. Oh, except, “He did get engaged to someone else like six months later, so…”

“You haven’t dated since?” He seemed genuinely surprised by that.

“I haven’t exactly had a lot of spare time over the last eight, nine months. And before that… I don’t know. There was no one I was into, I guess.”

“What was his name? The ex?”

“Lee.”

“Lee’s an idiot.”

“Oh please.” I huffed a humourless laugh.

“I’m being genuine.” His shoulders straightened, mildly offended by my reaction.

I rolled my eyes. “Right. The man who thinks my entire profession is a joke and doesn’t believe in relationshipsalsothinks my ex is an idiot for breaking things off with me.”

“Because he is.”

The look I gave him was so dry, it made him visibly bristle.

“All right, look.” He ran a hand through his hair, nudging closer to me. “I apologize for what I said about your job. Truly, it was impolite and out of line. I regret it. To be clear, I donotactually think your profession is a joke.”

I snorted.

It only added fuel to his fire. “Jamie, I asked you to marry me yesterday.”

My pulse jolted. “That doesn’t count.”

“How?”

“Because one, you definitely didn’t mean it. And two, it was for convenience, not love.”

His features contorted as he grew increasingly insulted by my accurate judgment of the situation. “I did mean it,” he insisted. “And, again, I’m not quite sure what love has to do with us getting married.”

I threw my hands up. “It has everything to do with it, are you kidding? Do you have any fucking idea how horrible it is to be trapped in a loveless marriage? Honestly, I’d kind of rather die.”

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