by Gina LaManna
“Clay, you forgot one thing.” I kept my voice gentle, standing up from the corner of the desk, moving to rest a hand on his shoulder.
Clay smacked a hand to his forehead. “I’ve been over this a million times! How could I have forgotten anything? Horatio didn’t notice anything wrong with it.”
I bit back a comment about how unsurprised I was that Horatio hadn’t pointed out the error in Clay’s logic – they were two peas in a pod. Technically smart, strategically solid, motivated, and ambitious to reach their goals. But in no way did that make either of these two single men knowledgeable at love. Now, I wasn’t Miss Married-with-Children here, but I had a boyfriend at the moment, and a pretty good one at that.
“Relax,” I said, interrupting Clay’s muttering, his double checking of the formulas that looked like hieroglyphics on the screen. “It’s nothing wrong with your formulas.”
Clay tore his eyes away from the screen, swiveling the chair to face me. “Well, it’s all formulas, so I don’t understand.”
“The formulas are the problem,” I said. “No matter how advanced you and Horatio have gotten with your algorithms, it’s impossible to find love using a computer as your brain.”
“Why?”
“What about the heart, Clay?” I reached a finger towards his head, and tapped it lightly on his temple. “Where do you think love comes from, here?”
Clay shrugged.
“No, Clay,” I said. “It comes from your heart. Inside. Haven’t you heard a single love story in your life? Every movie, book, television show – every good piece of entertainment – has a love story at the core. And it rarely makes sense. It’s rarely the easy choice. It’s rarely the logical choice.”
“I thought they made all of that up to add drama.” Clay pursed his lips in thought. “I don’t think it’s real.”
“It is! Look at me and Anthony.” I took a step back. “He’s the last person I should have fallen for, really. He works for my grandfather, I work for my grandfather, he has a dangerous, hectic job, and so do I. Neither of us have careers or even lifestyles that promote a relationship, and especially not a marriage or a family, but we’ve made it work so far. Almost six months, as a matter of fact. The beginning of January it’ll be half a year already.”
“I’d argue right back with you, then,” Clay said. “The algorithm would’ve accounted for all that. Neither you nor Anthony is looking to get married and pop out a kid tomorrow, right? You both like dangerous things, or at least you get in trouble and he gets you out of it. You’re both good looking, nice people—”
“Wow, Clay. Thank you.” I smiled. “Nice looking? I’ll take it.”
“That wasn’t a compliment, I’m just stating facts,” Clay said, his voice menacing. “Relax.”
“That’s even sweeter.” My grin widened, and I winked. “Thanks, cousin. I’m sure Anthony would like to know you find him attractive, too.”
“Shut up.” Clay glowered in my direction, but didn’t stop speaking. “I’d argue that you two are perfect for each other based on all of my criteria.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t make sense, Clay. I don’t agree. It’s something you feel, not something you decide.”
Clay coughed. “Try it.”
“What?”
“Try it, then.” Clay pushed his rolling chair away from the desk, and gestured for me to step in front of the computer. “Put your name in there so we can see for sure.”
I backed away. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Are you scared?”
“Of course not!”
“Don’t you believe in you and Anthony?” Clay asked, his eyes searching mine. “What are you worried about?”
I didn’t answer. I liked Anthony. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to see his apartment, fall asleep with him every night, tell him all the ups and downs of my day, and whisper my fears and dreams into the dark of night, across a shared pillow. If Anthony’s name didn’t come up on the screen…well, there was no way I’d risk that happening. I knew in my heart I should be with Anthony, that in the here and now what we had between us was good and right. I didn’t need a stupid computer program to confirm or deny it.
“I’m not worried, I just refuse to be caught up in this junk,” I said. “People have already tried to do things like this. Websites that match people to one another, and even then, not all ‘matches’ hit it off. Online daters go out with tons of people before they find the right one.”
“This isn’t a dating website,” Clay said. “And frankly, why would a dating website want to be so perfect? They want users to keep coming back and paying a monthly fee, no?”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Most people don’t. I’m not most people.”
“Apparently,” I said. “Most people live life and go out on dates to find a spouse, not create a massive computer program that gives them the answer. It’s cheating, in a way.”
“Is not. Why do I want to chance not finding someone?” Clay asked, and his voice shook.
For the first time, I saw right through him. Clay was scared. He wasn’t trying to cheat the system, he was frightened that he wouldn’t meet someone. My heart melted, realizing for the first time that Clay’s lack of interest in girls stemmed from a place of insecurity, and not disinterest. I felt stupid, doing a mental forehead smack, wishing I’d seen the signs of it sooner. How could I have been so blind?
“Clay, you’re a wonderful person,” I said, the argument all gone from my voice. “You’re kind, you’re smart and successful, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who’ll make you happy and who will enhance your life. But a computer can’t give you that answer.”
“How do you know?” Clay blinked, his grayish eyes staring up at me. “That’s impossible to know.”
“I know you deserve all those things. Someone who’ll challenge you and make you think with your heart instead of your head for once. But you can’t walk up to some girl on the street that you’ve never met before and give her a printout of your computer results.” I shook my head. “That’s more likely to end in a restraining order than a marriage certificate, take my word on this.”
Clay frowned. “You have experience with restraining orders?”
“No,” I said, maybe a bit too quickly. “But common sense, I have some practice with that, believe it or not.”
Clay looked at me, then at the screen, then back in my direction. “I’m older than you, Lacey. I hate, and I mean despise talking about these things. But I don’t want to be alone forever.”
“You’re not alone!” I put both of my hands on his shoulders, giving him a little shake. “You have us – me, Nora, Meg, the family – you have all of us.”
“And then you’ll get married and move out. Nora will become occupied with the next generation, and then Meg…she’ll probably get married, too. Where does that leave me?” Clay looked into my eyes, his own duller than their normal gray. “I hate talking about this because it sounds like I’m whiny. I’m not, but I don’t want to grow old next to Horatio, Lace.”
“I understand,” I said, my voice so soft I wasn’t sure if I’d spoken aloud. “Clay, I never knew…I’m so sorry.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“That you felt this way. That you were lonely, and were looking, and…” I threw my hands up. “I feel like a bad, bad cousin right now, let alone a friend.”
“I’m not lonely now,” Clay said. “But I look ahead. I plan years in advance, that’s just the way my mind works. I’m happy for you and Anthony, really. For a while there, I thought my computers, my hobbies, my buddies would be enough.” He shrugged. “But now I’m having second thoughts.”
“It’s natural. Humans like company, that’s just how we’re wired. You shouldn’t feel uncomfortable saying that.”
“I’m not a social butterfly like you, I’m not Mr. Handsome like Anthony, or Mr. Charm like Mack. I’m not fun like Meg, or powerful like Carlos.�
� Clay glanced down at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. “I’m just me.”
“Hey, you’re enough,” I said. “You’re more than enough. I just don’t want to see you hurt by this program, Clay. Why don’t you try online dating? Or come with me to Meg’s bar sometime. We can socialize and see how that goes in a safe setting. You just have to be open to the opportunity.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Take Harold, for example,” I said. “He’s been Carlos’s butler since forever. He lives, works, and breathes the Luzzi Estate air, day in and day out. Technically speaking, he never gets out. I never thought he’d find a date. Never thought he particularly wanted to, yet here he is, spending the holidays with Lizabeth. All because he took a chance. When she showed up on his doorstep, he said hello. And he took the opportunity to put himself out there. And look what happened? We haven’t heard from him since we landed. I’m sure he’s having a great vacation with Lizabeth.”
Clay frowned.
“Sometimes, Clay, things will pop up right in front of your face. You just have to be ready to accept them.”
Clay shook his head. “But I spent forever building this.”
“Then let’s try it now,” I said. “If it doesn’t work, we can have a good laugh together, and then get you set up with a real dating profile. If it works, I will declare you the King of Love.”
“Then be prepared to declare me the King of Love,” Clay said. “Because it’s gonna work.”
I laughed, happy to see a twinkle back in Clay’s eyes, a grin hovering at his lips. “I will happily declare you the King of Love on your wedding day – as long as I can tell you’re truly in love – if your program matches you with a mate.”
Clay extended a hand, and I shook it. “Deal.”
“So?” I gestured to the screen. “Let’s see the lucky lady.”
“No way!” Clay recoiled. “Not now, not here. I’m not ready.”
I crossed my arms. “All this talk, and now you’re not ready?”
“I’m sensitive.” Clay recoiled, a hurt look on his face. “One can’t rush love.”
“This is a computer program.”
“And I’m the King of Love.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said, pausing as we shared a smile. “Are you doing okay though, really?”
Clay waited a beat before he nodded. “Yeah, I am. It did feel good to talk about it, even though I hated every second.”
“I hated it too,” I said.
“You’re lying, you loved it,” Clay said. “That’s what I meant when I said you’d freak. You’d want to talk it to death.”
“Well, I’m just glad you told me what was going on,” I said. “And I mean it, Clay. You deserve the best. If this computer spits back a subpar name, I personally will make sure you don’t go through with it and make a huge mistake, got it?”
“You’re a good cousin, Lace.”
“You too,” I said, sensing it was time to leave. I walked towards the door, stopping before I opened it. “Good night, Clay.”
“Night. And next time you call Anthony, turn off the intercom. I threw up once tonight already, thanks to those images.”
“Ugh, Clay!” I slammed the door, smiling the rest of the way down the hallway. This time when I reached my room, I slipped my bare legs between the silky sheets, still in awe that I wasn’t freezing my butt off without socks this time of year. Maybe I could get a second home in sunny California. I fluffed my pillow, texted Anthony goodnight, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Anthony: 24 hours until I see you. Almost. I miss you.
Anthony: =]
I woke up the next morning smiling like a hyena. Anthony typically rose before me, even when he wasn’t two hours ahead. Even after six months, I still got the giddy sensation of a kid on Christmas morning when I opened a text from him. I texted back.
Me: Feel free to make it sooner! My sheets are nice, and I figured out how to turn off the intercom system.
Anthony: I see your job is challenging you.
Anthony: =]
I laughed aloud. We’d had a “talk” about his texting tone of voice, how it was impossible to tell when he was being serious or joking over texts. Without the use of emojis, I’d told him, he came off as angry all the time. Which then made me overthink a text as simple as good morning.
Me: Good job! I am proud of your use of emojis.
Anthony: I’m lonely without you, so I have to think of something to do.
Anthony: =]
Me: You don’t have to send a smiley every time, I just meant once in a while would be nice.
Anthony: I sort of like them.
Anthony: =]
Me: <3
Anthony: Less than three? What is less than three?
Me: It’s a heart.
Anthony: It looks more like math.
Anthony: =} This one’s cute, right?
Me: Just like you.
Anthony: I’m not cute. Did you sleep okay?
Me: As good as I could. Little chilly out here, in this big bed.
Anthony: One more night, and I’ll be there with you. Everything okay, babe?
Me: Now it is. We’ll be checking out the event scene today and getting ready for tomorrow. It’ll go fast, I hope.
Anthony: =]
Me: You’re addicted to emojis.
Anthony: They’re my little buddies now. I like them.
Me: What are your plans for today?
Anthony: Training a backup Door Guy for Harold’s absence, and then one more project that’s top secret.
Me: Does it involve my Christmas present?
Anthony: I’m supposed to get you a Christmas present?
Anthony: =]
Anthony: Just kidding. Speaking of, I’ve sent you a package. It should be downstairs now.
Me: =] =] =] =]
Anthony: I’m headed to Carlos’s now, so I’ll let you go look. I know you want to, if you haven’t already.
I glanced down, having leapt out of bed and pulled on a huge, fuzzy robe and slippers that had appeared sometime during my slumber, hanging from the back of the door. More secret staff slinking around at night. I still hadn’t decided how I felt about that, but I did appreciate the robe, which felt like an angel had wrapped me in a hug, it was so soft.
Me: You’re psychic! I was halfway dressed already.
Anthony: Shame.
Anthony: =]
Anthony: Better that way. Save any undressing for when I arrive.
Me: No problem. Have a good day, okay? I’ll call you when I get the chance after scouting out the event site. Call me before if you need anything.
Anthony: Stay safe. I miss you. You’ll do a great job, sugar, but don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.
Me: It’s a premier with a dog, what could go wrong?
Anthony: - _ -
Me: =]
Feeling buoyed by Anthony’s vote of confidence, I clambered downstairs, my eyes open for two of my favorite things wrapped into one: Anthony and non-Christmas presents. I skidded down the curling staircase, sliding into the kitchen, and cruising smack dab into Mack.
“Oh, hello,” I said, stepping back from where he was brewing coffee in a very fancy concoction with a glass beaker, a tea kettle, and fresh ground beans. I gestured to it. “Are you doing a science experiment, or is that coffee I smell?”
Mack scanned my face, as if wondering whether or not I was serious.
“Real question,” I said, helping him out. “I normally get my sugar bombs from 7-11. Last week, it was more marshmallows than coffee.”
“Then I’d like to open your eyes to the world of good coffee.” He hand-poured steaming water over the glass contraption that looked more like an hourglass than a coffee pot. “Did you have a nice night?”
“Yes, I did.” I climbed up behind the island in the center of the kitchen, pulling the robe tight to my body. “Thanks for—” I trailed off, nar
rowing my eyes at his twinkling gaze. “You’re rude!” I stuck a finger out at him before sinking my head into my hands. Judging by his amused glance, he’d heard the intercom exchange, as well.
“I thought it was sweet.” Mack set the teakettle back on the stove. “You two seem like a good pair. Speaking of, this arrived a few minutes ago.”
I clapped my hands as Mack sat a beautifully wrapped package in front of me. The exterior of the box was swaddled in silver, shiny paper with a bright red bow topping it off, a card dangling to the side. I resisted all of the instincts that told me to rip the paper off, and I opened the card first.
Lacey,
Sometimes it’s hard to get into the Christmas spirit when there’s no snow on the ground. I know how much you love it. I hope this helps. I miss you. Bigger present coming later.
A
I sucked in a breath, my eyes smarting embarrassingly with tears. I already cared for him so much, but every day those feelings grew. How was that possible? Surely there had to be a plateau, right? I wasn’t sure how much more room my heart had to expand.
“You love him, huh?” Mack asked softly.
I barely heard him, running my hands up and down the package, wishing that instead of this box, Anthony had been waiting on the steps this morning.
“Yeah,” I murmured, not registering what he’d said until it was too late. And then, “Wait, no. You didn’t hear that from me. We don’t use that word.”
“What word?” Mack raised an eyebrow. “Love?”
“Shhh!” I raised a finger to my lips. “We haven’t said it yet.”
“Why not? It’s obvious. I didn’t think that was a secret.”
“Because we uh, well, I haven’t, uh—” I paused. “Wait, it’s obvious?”
Mack rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s obvious. You almost cried over a card. People who don’t care wouldn’t be moved to tears over something like that.”
“I’m not crying,” I said. “Jeesh, I’m not a sap.”
“Being in love doesn’t make you a sap,” Mack said. “It just makes you feel things harder.”
We sat in silence.
“What makes you a love expert?” I pulled the present closer to me, unworking the paper, too scared of how much it cost to rip it off, like I normally would. “I thought you weren’t looking.”