Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
He belongs with women in New York. Statistically speaking.
He knows where he’s supposed to be.
And I know where I need to be. Here. Yes, I’m statistically unlikely to find love here, but I need to be near my sister, my company, my house. I need to be someplace where the world makes sense.
Really, there’s no sense in drawing this out. There’s no sense in enduring the agony of falling further in love, breaking up, losing each other.
No. The algo has spoken.
Love isn’t in the cards for me.
I need to do the right thing and release him. So he can be where he’s supposed to be. So he can live the life he’s supposed to live. Focus on whatever it is that’s occupying him.
I say yes to Lexi’s third suggestion, the one about deactivating his profile so Willa won’t notice it. But there’s really no need for her tips on hiding our relationship or creating a fake profile. Or going through the algo again, or my answers, or his, to see where we went wrong.
There must be something else, his grandma’s searches messing up the compatibility. Or one of us not being honest with ourselves.
It’s only a quick chat. A check-in before our real meeting tomorrow. The entire time, I stay in my head. I barely nod yes or no. I barely catch any of Willa’s words. Something about Xavier. The guy here with her. The guy joining us for dinner tomorrow.
He’s also her business partner.
He loves the app. He loves our pairing. He’s sold on Jake and Lexi, though she doesn’t explain why or how.
We have everything we want.
The funding we need.
The future.
Happiness for my sister.
Success. All the success I ever wanted.
And it feels completely empty.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Deanna
In the hotel room, River is stretched out over the bed, sketching the scene at the pool. The tall palm trees, the square hotel buildings, the sun shining off the bright blue water.
He looks good in shorts and a T-shirt. He almost looks like he belongs here, in Southern California, in my bed, in my life.
But we both know that isn’t true.
“Hey.” I barely force the words from my tongue. They’re too hard. Everything is too hard.
“Hey.” He turns to me with a smile. And then he sees my face and the smile disappears. His dark eyes fill with concern. His brow furrows. “You okay?”
I swallow hard. I haven’t had to do this much. Usually, guys end things when they get tired of me. Or when I end things, they’re happy for the excuse. Because they already know they’d rather be with someone else. Someone softer.
Lexi is a better match with him, of course. Not a fantastic match, only 75 percent, but better than I am.
But that isn’t what bothers me. No. None of it bothers me. There’s no reason to feel misery. There’s no need to fight reality.
He belongs with someone else. He belongs somewhere else.
It doesn’t matter how I feel.
“You should go back to New York.” I force the words from my tongue. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.”
“And for the rest of my life?” He tries to ease the mood with the Casablanca quote. Or maybe he tries to prove a point.
I don’t know anymore.
“I decide what I do,” he says seriously.
“We don’t belong together.” I don’t believe the words, even though I know they’re true, even though I have proof. “And I’m not going to be an albatross around your neck. You belong somewhere else. And I belong here. We should end this now, before it gets too complicated.”
“Even if that’s true—”
“It is true,” I say.
“What if you belong in New York?”
I shake my head. “I need to be here with the company, with my sister.” As much as I don’t fit into Huntington Hills, I mean every word. I can’t imagine a life three thousand miles from my Lexi. “And you need to be there. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re not a good fit. You saw it, too.”
It takes a couple seconds, but an epiphany fills his eyes when he realizes. “Because we’re not a match on the app?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you didn’t ask,” he says. “Because I didn’t think it mattered.”
“I do.”
“I love you. That’s what matters.”
“No, it’s not.” I shake my head, not even letting myself process his words. “This is real life. Other things matter.”
“Do you love me?”
I don’t know. How can anyone know? I care about him, yes, and that’s why I have to do this. Because it’s what’s right for both of us. “I’m sorry.”
“Dee.”
“It just doesn’t make sense, and it’s just…it’s too much fun. I need to end things, before I get more invested, before we both get more invested in something destined to fail. We owe that to ourselves.”
“Is that all it is? Logic?” he asks.
“What else is there?”