A happy ending. The kind of thing my company loved to promote.
It got me thinking about Cupid’s Arrow and the couples who met through our platform. I had built an entire company around something I was convinced didn’t exist.
I paid for the skates and then headed to the office. If anyone needed an idea about how or why I was single, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out. I didn’t go out. I didn’t socialize. I spent every single day at the office, working my butt off.
The building was mostly empty except for security and a few overachievers from various departments. I took the elevator up to my floor and let myself into my office. The silence was almost eerie without the usual bustle of activity.
I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and pulled up the Cupid’s Arrow site. I had never made a profile. Never filled out the questionnaire. Never submitted myself to the algorithm I helped design.
Because I didn’t believe it would work for me. I was certain I was somehow exempt from the very thing I sold to others. But what if it would work for me? What if there truly was a person out there meant just for me?
I created a profile.
I bypassed the salary requirements—one of the benefits of owning the company—and started filling out the prompts. It took a little time but I finished the profile and hit submit.
The screen changed to the standard confirmation message.Thank you for joining Cupid’s Arrow! Our matchmakers are hard at work finding your perfect match. You should expect results within one business week.
I stared at the screen, then closed my laptop.
What the hell was I doing?
Making a Cupid’s Arrow profile wasn’t going to solve anything. I already knew who I wanted. She was probably at home right now. She was probably regretting the kiss and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into by agreeing to this fake dating scheme.
I should leave. Go home. Spend the rest of my Saturday doing literally anything other than sitting in my empty office spiraling about my feelings for my assistant.
I heard footsteps in the hallway. I looked up and saw Ina slide into her desk chair with her back to me as usual.
She was here. At the office. On a Saturday.
We were just a little too alike.
“Morning,” I said.
She screamed and jumped about a foot in the air, spinning in her chair to face me with one hand pressed to her chest.
“Holy shit, Dane! You scared me!” She was breathing hard, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I’m catching up. I missed two days being sick and I’m so far behind.”
I nodded. I should have expected that.
She looked at me and suddenly it all got very weird. There was a giant elephant in the room. I had to address it. I couldn’t just pretend it didn’t happen.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you last night,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them.
Her face fell. “I know. We shouldn’t have?—”
“I don’t regret it at all.”
She froze, her mouth still half-open on whatever she’d been about to say.
I stood up from my desk and walked toward her. She stood as well.
I reached for her hand and slowly pulled her into my office.
“I don’t regret it,” I repeated. “Do you?”
