Page 27 of The True Love Experiment

“And what about present day?” she asks. “Are you remarried? Out every night, living the hot single life?”

I clear my throat, frowning as I adjust the napkin on my lap. “I—no. Neither,” I admit. “My daughter is still quite young. I only have her on weekends, and I work late most weeknights—so I haven’t. I don’t. That is, I don’t date much.” I hear the stumbling clutter ofmy words and squint past her, to stare at a flock of birds picking at something on the sand.

“What’s her name?”

I’m grateful that she’s letting me move on. “Stefania Elena Garcia Prince.” Fizzy bites back a smile and I laugh in understanding. “I know. My last name always sounds like the sad friend at the party. She’s a trip, though. Part princess, part evil mastermind.”

“She sounds like my kind of girl.”

“I genuinely fear the day you two meet. I think Nostradamus wrote about it.”

When I look up at her, I register that she’s been studying me. Her dark eyes are wide and gently set on my face.

“Anyway, we should be talking about you, not me.”

She doesn’t look away as my gaze holds hers. It’s this, and the way her voice goes a little hoarse when she says, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” that make me suspect I am absolutely, irrevocably, and undeniably fucked.

thirteenFIZZY

Iassume we all have the proverbial angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, but in my case, they’re very real, and the devil is a shouter.

I know that it is stupid to flirt with Connor. I know how absurd it is to develop sexy desires for this man in particular, but it’s been so long since I’ve been attracted to anyone that I feel like a starving dog staring at a T-bone.

Connor licks his lips, pulling them in between his teeth, and I realize he’s reacting to the weight of my stare. Blinking away, I focus my attention on the waves crashing into the smooth sand instead.

I need to get my shit together. As much as I’m glad I’m a butterfly coming out of the cocoon of sexual stagnation, I probably shouldn’t fly directly to the first flower I see. Especially if that flower’s professional goal is finding me a soulmate.

“Well,” he says after our odd, lengthy showdown, “let’s start easy.”

I stretch, pretending to crack my neck.

“Tell me what you look for in a guy.”

Taking a deep breath, I look out at the waves in the distance, thinking. “Have you ever gone to the grocery store hungry?”

Connor laughs in understanding. “Yes.”

“Cheese plate, carrots, chips, salsa, Cocoa Pebbles, and sugar cookies. Whatever sounds good at the time.”

“Right.”

“I’d describe my dating energy a little like that. I don’t have a type, exactly, but maybe that’s part of the problem.”

He nods but doesn’t take this opportunity to speak. Again: hot.

“I initially did the DNADuo for fun,” I say. “You know, to try out the technology from a romance research perspective. I got matches and went out with everyone. I wanted to see if a Base Matchfeltdifferent from a Silver.”

“Did it?” he asks.

“It did, but in romance, love is often about getting past our core assumptions. So if someone told me I had a Titanium Match, wouldn’t I subconsciously work harder to make it successful than I would with a Base Match? That’s always the question with this technology.”

He hums, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“I think doing this show is the perfect way for me to get back into the dating scene. I won’t know what kind of matches I have. I won’t overthink it. I’ll just have to go on how we vibe and let the audience worry about the rest. I mean, I’m not having any luck on my own, why not let a bunch of strangers give it a shot?”

“And you never went back to the app? You haven’t used it at all in the past couple years?”

“Oh, I haven’t had much interest in dating for a while. My desire to find a partner crashed and burned entirely around the same time I was doing my DNADuo dating spree—unrelated to the app, I should add.”

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