Page 80 of Cruising for You

I straightened my spine. I’d already stood up for myself once, and I could do it again. “Adam can’t play golf tomorrow, or join the family, because I’m taking him to brunch. But we’ll be back at Christmas, and he can meet the relatives who are in town then.”

Adam smiled at me like that was the answer he wanted as well.

“The courses will be covered in snow!” Dad protested.

“Then come up to Philadelphia and visit us this fall.” I turned to Lisa. “Can you ask Aunt Kathy to get the sparklers?”

Lisa grimaced at the thought of talking to Aunt Kathy. “Michael and I will just grab them.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I know you got a babysitter for Keith. I hate to ruin your night together.”

“As long as we’re not changing diapers, we’re having fun.” Lisa left to find her husband.

“Come.” I led Adam out onto the floor for another slow dance while Mom and Dad gaped at me.

I tipped my head toward them then wrapped my arms around Adam. “They’re not used to me sticking up for what I want. But I’m trying to have hard conversations now, and I want you all to myself.”

“That sounds perfect to me.” Adam lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I love every subspecies of Jenna.”

Adam’s words echoed in my ears, melting my heart all over again. I looked up at him, meeting his warm, gentle gaze. His eyes were sparkling with love, and my heart beat faster in response.

“And I love every strain of Adam,” I replied.

“Well, then,” he said, pulling me closer and brushing a gentle kiss against my lips, “I guess we were the perfect match.”

I held Adam tighter as we moved in a lazy circle, delighted for whatever the future held.

“Luke, are you seeing this?” My boss, Davis Hardcastle gestured across the Connect meeting room.

I already knew exactly who he was looking at, but I made a show of glancing over at the spectacle across the room and allowed myself to drink in the sight for a full half minute.

Ellie Gooding was seated at one of the live-edge tables, her hands gesturing expressively as she chatted with her match, a grouchy older man more interested in scowling than engaging in her lively conversation. The bright vibrancy of her energy seemed to bounce off his stony silence, making the mismatch all the more apparent.

“He’s one of the referrals,” I informed Davis. Encouraged after our initial success, we’d just expanded Connect app usage to friends of our beta testers.

“He does look like he could use a friend,” Davis commented. “Just maybe not Ellie.” He shook his head. “Her first match was more of a mentee than a friend, but I don’t even think we could expect these two to end up acquaintances. How does the algo keep getting it wrong?”

“I scanned over her answers to the initial surveys, since she’s our first second-time user,” I explained. “She was worried she hadn’t given them enough thought the first time, so she requested to take the survey again.”

“Right,” Davis acknowledged. Not much happened at Connect that he didn’t know about.

“And her second set of answers was completely different from the first. There actually wasn’t a single overlapping response.” I didn’t know how she’d managed it. Seemed like a person would have to try to make that happen, keeping a list of the responses she’d given the first time.

“Huh.” Davis frowned, setting off a storm of anxiety in me despite recognizing that expression as Davis’s “thinking through a problem” face. His moods dictated mine; when Davis was happy, I was content. When he was mildly annoyed, I was frantic. And when he was nervous, I panicked.

“Can you reach out to her after the Meetup and see what’s going on? No other users seem to be having such a big problem.”

“Sure,” I agreed, though my mind was screaming “NO!” It would make a lot more sense for Davis to reach out to Ellie. They were friends, and Davis was smooth and impressive. He also had no reason to avoid Hugh Gooding’s daughter.

Me, on the other hand? Ellie didn’t even know my name. I was shy and awkward around beautiful women, and I’d had a crush on Ellie since she’d come up to me at her first Meetup, laid a hand on my arm, and asked if we had a bathroom.

I’d looked down into her heart-shaped face, struck at once by the platinum blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders in loose waves, the tiny scrunch of her button nose, and the radiant smile that revealed two perfect dimples. This was the daughter of the man who’d allegedly stolen everything from my family? She looked harmless, the human version of a puppy.

“I’m sorry; what?” I’d asked, already forgetting her question.

“Bathroom?” she repeated.

And then a flush had crept up my neck, and I found myself escorting her to the staff bathroom that was off limits to guests rather than directing her to the public restroom in the lobby downstairs.

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