“Almost, but not quite,” said Daphne. “You know I’ve spent a lot of time at my grandfather’s estate, right? Especially since my mom was Extricated and my dad, uh, passed?”
“Of course,” said Zada.
“And in that time, I have happened to overhear some meetings.” Daphne shrugged a shoulder. “Some stray comments here or there, raised voices caught as I happened to pass by.”
“You eavesdropped,” Zada filled in.
“An eave may have occasionally been dropped,” said Daphne. “Who’s to say?” Then she sobered, her mouth pressing into a straight line. “I’ve heard enough to know there’s a possibility the error rate is increasing.”
“The error rate? There’s an error rate?” Zada spoke with the slightest tremor. Fitting, because it felt like an earthquake was thundering through her mind.
“There is,” said Daphne. “And the council has decided not to allocate the budget to investigate further. That’s a direct quote.”
“The council wouldn’t do that,” said Zada. “If they earnestly believed there could be a problem—”
“Reading between the lines, I’d say they refuse to believe it,” said Daphne. “Despite growing evidence to the contrary.”
“You think Flora and Aiden aren’t each other’s true match?” Zada said.
Daphne nodded. “What’s more, I think you and Buford are a mistake, too.”
Zada stared at her palms, tracing her left love line with her thumb. “How can you say that? We’re obviously supposed to be together.”
Quietly, barely audible above the hum of the fish tank’s water filter, Daphne asked, “Do you think he loves you?”
“I—” Zada swallowed. “I don’t know.”
She thought of Buford’s resolute face, his declarations of steadiness, that short dry kiss on the front step. She could feel her face going red, tears prickling humiliatingly at her eyes. The shame wasn’t the worst part, but it was the first to bubble to the surface.
She thought of the letter fromPersuasion, the one she’d read aloud with her friends, her heart thrilling at the emotion behind the words.I am half agony, half hope.
She thought of what Buford had said when she’d crashed into him.I don’t feel a thing. The contrast was too stark to deny.
Something was stuck in Zada’s throat. She swallowed again. “Is there any way to ever know how anyone else truly feels?”
“So, no, then?” Daphne offered, almost gently.
Zada shook her head, blinking away her tears. “No. I don’t think so.”
“In a way, that’s good news,” said Daphne. Zada shot her a disbelieving look. “No, it is! If one of you loved the other, I could see an argument for the match. But if neitherof you feel that way, I think there’s a good chance this was a miscalculation.”
Zada glanced at her reader, which lay at her feet where she’d tossed it last night.
“Suppose he is the best I can do, though,” Zada said, studying the rounded corners, the familiar slightly cracked screen. “Suppose this is the closest I’ll ever come to love.”
“No,” Daphne said. “I refuse to suppose it, and you can’t make me.”
“What if,” Zada pressed, “the Heartsong program put us together because we really are each other’s best match, our best chance at happiness? The Core has all my data, and it has all of his data, too. Maybe they accounted for the fact that I’m just not suited for—for the kind of grand romance that I’ve always dreamed of. Maybe there’s something the matter with me, something deep inside myself that I can’t even—”
A loud noise cut across the room. It was Daphne, making a fart sound with her mouth.
“Seriously, Zada,” said Daphne. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And you not falling head over heels in love with that damp rag of a human being, that isn’t a sign that you’ve failed or that you don’t deserve better.”
“Buford’s a very nice man,” said Zada. “I wouldn’t say he’s a damp rag, necessarily.”
“Fine,” Daphne conceded. “He’s a dry rag, whatever. My point is, I know dozens of very nice people and you’re not required to feel sweeping romantic passion for any of them solely on the basis of their niceness.”
“He’s handsome,” Zada added.
