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He takes a step closer, and his clean scent floods my senses. I think my heart explodes. “What are you doinghere?”
“Jake had a plus-one. In fairness, I happened to be there when the invitation came in. Otherwise, he probably would’ve broughtsomeone.”
Anotherstep.
“Funny thing. Ben reached out with a renewed interest in Modern Love. Which, apparently, is the name of my DNA dating app. It got radically more sophisticated in the last fewweeks.”
I can’t stop the flush at his praise. I know it’s better, but hearing the words from his lips affects me. “I promised to help. I had to see itthrough.”
I wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say because his brows draw together under the fall of hair I’m desperate to brushaway.
“Well, your timing was impeccable. I was considering shutting down the program. For some reason, the idea of helping people fall in love wasn’t appealing to me.” His smile is wry. “But Ben expressed renewed interest in the app, and I agreed to partner with him to develop itfurther.”
“It sounds like things are looking up for you,” I saycarefully.
“In some areas,” he agrees. “But notall.”
“No?” I fold my arms over my chest, trying not to read into his crypticwords.
Wes’s gaze searches my face. “I need to confesssomething.”
“Is it that you murdered someone and buried them under the building?” I can’t resist saying. “Because I’m not sure I can take that kind ofcandor.”
His blue eyes sparkle. “No. It’s a compliment. I wanted to warn you because it’sbig.
“You’re the kindest, most challenging, breathtaking, fun person I’ve evermet.”
My breath catches, and there can’t possibly be more but Wes’s mouth keepsmoving.
“You’re smart, and sophisticated, and hilarious, and unbelievablysexy.
“And I have something foryou.”
He pulls out an envelope from his pocket and holds it between us. It’s off-white, unmarked, and so slim there can’t be more than a single sheet of paper insideit.
“What isit?”
“You wanted to know if we matched. The answer’s inhere.”
I take the envelope from him, hold it up to the light, my breathcatching.
“You want to open it? It’s yours,” hesays.
I turn it over in my hands, then hold it back out to him, shaking my head. “No. Doyou?”
He considers. “I know this app has helped a lot of people, and I hope it’ll help a lot more. But I don’t need an algorithm—even one I designed—to tell me I should loveyou.
“I know I’m in love with you. And I don’t give a fuck what science thinks ofit.”
Wes lovesme.
My chest expands until I must be bumping into the people closest to me because suddenly I’m taking up more space in this already-crowdedroom.
“Forreal?”
He nods. “I knew it before I got back from Seattle. But after what happened with my work, I lost myself. I was so obsessed with what I thought I wanted I lost sight of what Ineeded.”
He steps closer, but instead of reaching for my face, he tugs on myponytail.
