“Even though,” Jess cut in quietly, “if you believe their data, the odds are significantly better of finding a lasting relationship with a Silver than with regular dating …”

Fizzy gaped at her. “Says the woman who won’t believe her own score.”

“What was it?” Daniel asked again.

Jess laughed. “It doesn’t matter. Fizzy’s right. I don’t believe it.” She wiped her hands on her apron and looked at Daniel. “What’s next, boss? Dishes? Restocking?”

He lifted his chin, undeterred. “Was it a Base Match?”

Fizzy looked at her, one eyebrow pointed sharply skyward. “Yeah, Jess. Was it a Base Match?”

Jess slid a patient look to her friend. “Are you being a pot-stirrer?”

“Guilty.”

Daniel turned to Fizzy, who in turn gave Jess a look that either sought permission or delivered a warning.

Warning, apparently, because a few seconds later, Fizzy said, “It was a Diamond.”

Jess expected him to explode: How can you ignore that? and If I had a Diamond Match, I’d quit my job and get laid all day long! But just as Fizzy had when Jess told her, Daniel studied Jess very quietly and very intently.

“You’re not curious?” he asked, at length.

“No.”

Daniel seemed to be trying to wrap his head around this. “Is River?”

Jess shrugged. “Who knows? We haven’t really talked since we found out a few days ago.”

“So, you’re going to, what? Do nothing?”

She nodded at Daniel. “That’s the plan.”

Fizzy rolled her eyes and repeated with an exasperated edge: “That’s the plan. The boring, safe plan.”

Jess gave her friend a look of warning. It wasn’t that Fizzy was wrong, per se, but Jess had more to think about than just herself. She couldn’t throw caution to the wind. That was a luxury childless people had, people with free time and fewer responsibilities. Boring, safe plans hadn’t steered her wrong yet.

EIGHT

BUT THE PLAN, as it were, went up in smoke three days later at about 5:17 in the evening, when a silver Tesla pulled up beside Jess on her walk home and rolled down a heavily tinted passenger-side window. It was in her nature to ignore all cars rolling up at a curb, but this one wasn’t catcalling. This driver knew her name.

“Jessica.”

She turned to find Brandon “the Teeth” Butkis in the driver’s seat. His left arm was wrapped around the steering wheel as he leaned toward her, smiling like he had an entire pack of Chiclets he wanted to show off. He was dressed casually in a blue button-down shirt open at the collar. “Do you have a second?”

“Not really.” She pointed down two blocks, toward her apartment building. “I need to get dinner started.”

“Actually, I was wondering if there was someone who could watch your daughter tonight,” he said, and his smile turned tentative. Despite the intimidating size of his teeth, his eyes were warm and brown, with crinkles at the edges. He did not look like a man who wanted to pull Jess off the street, plug wires into her skin, and turn her into a human battery. Jess registered vaguely that she needed to take it down a notch, imagination-wise.

Approaching the car, she leaned down, resting her forearms on the windowsill. “I’m sure this is frustrating for you, but I’m really not interested in pursuing this.”

“And we won’t force you to,” he said quickly. “Our intention isn’t to be intrusive. I know this has been an … odd situation. David and I just wanted to make sure to follow up.”

Jess had to admit they’d been surprisingly silent given the urgency of the first meeting, the enormity of the finding, and the rushed manner in which she’d fled their headquarters. So far it had been crickets. “You aren’t suggesting another meeting, are you?”

She must have looked like she’d relish another meeting as much as she would a root canal because Brandon laughed. “No. That meeting was a mistake. Our mistake. And probably the worst way to tell you both. We got overly excited, as scientists—we wanted you to experience that moment of discovery with us, but we should have exhibited more EQ.” He shifted in his seat. “We were hoping to take you to dinner.”

“Tonight?”

He nodded. “Can you get free?”

She turned and looked down the street again, considering it. Jess wasn’t blind—River was objectively gorgeous—but she couldn’t even say she liked him as a person. Plus, she still couldn’t wrap her logical mind around the number. Her priorities, in order, were her kid, her grandparents, and her bills. She wasn’t going to pursue this no matter what they said tonight.

“I have a lot on my plate,” Jess told him. “I’ve taken on another job; I have a young daughter at home, as you know. I really don’t think I have—”

“I promise, Jessica,” Brandon cut in gently, and when her attention flew back to his face, he gave another tentative smile. “We won’t waste your time.”

JESS KNEW AS soon as Brandon pulled up at the valet in front of Addison at the Grand Del Mar that this wasn’t going to be a laid-back kind of dinner. They wouldn’t be eating tacos with their hands or sharing pitchers of beer. A meal at the Addison would cost more than her rent.

She glanced down at her lap, brushing nonexistent lint from the skirt of her dress. Brandon would forever be in the Like column for giving her fifteen minutes to change out of her yoga pants and the you-can-barely-see-the-stain Lululemon top Juno had picked out for her at Goodwill. The blue dress she’d tugged on was stretchy, which was why it still fit.

Brandon grabbed his neatly pressed sports coat from where it hung on a hook in the back seat, beamed a reassuring smile, and gestured for Jess to walk ahead of him.

“Right this way, Mr. Butkis.” The maître d’ nodded, leading them through a stunning circular room lined with arch-capped French doors. Silverware tapped gently against porcelain, ice clinked in highball glasses; all around them, conversation hummed at a low, pleasant murmur. Tables were dotted spaciously throughout the room, framed by low plush chairs upholstered in scarlet and gold.

“Is David meeting us?”

Brandon looked over his shoulder at her. “They should be here already.”