He's staring at my lips like he wants to kiss me, and God help me, I want him to. Thankfully, my hands are full of cake and coffee, and I'm not so far gone that dropping this mess on the floor is appealing. Not gonna lie—the idea of tossing them toward the table and gluing my face to Simon's is still a fleeting thought. What are the chances the cake and coffee will land upright?

"We should come up with a game plan to go after GameSetMatch." My voice is breathy, and I hate how turned on I sound. We're not even touching. His hand is long gone from my hair, and our chests skim, ever so lightly together each time we breath, but otherwise, we have zero points of contact. The air around us crackles, nonetheless.

He's catnip, and I'm the cat.

"Yeah," he agrees, his voice husky. "I—" He searches my face. "Do you think you can ever forgive me, Tay?"

Oh, jeez. That's a loaded question. In the kitchen while I was getting my coffee and cake, I tried to process everything he told me, but I kept stalling on the email from GameSetMatch. Awful and presumptive—as though they were the authority on love and matchmaking. Of course, they've since made a lot of money off their air of authority.

Despite my reservations, I watched my best friend meet and fall in love with the match they gave her. Then I fell for the marketing genius too. Who doesn't want to make this whole dating game easier? Your soulmate delivered on a platter? Literally, sign me up! So naïve.

"I don't know how I feel. I can't answer that question right now. It's a lot to process, and I'm nowhere near doing that." I step past him and set my cake and coffee on the table, my fork rattling on the plate. "Taking down GameSetMatch is my number one priority."

"And moving to Scotland." He eyes my boxes.

I flush. "Yeah, well, that may have been a hasty decision, but I'm doing it. I told him a definite yes. I dropped off all the legal and VISA paperwork earlier today." Anxiety swirls in my stomach. The whole time I was filling in forms, paying money, talking to people, I was cool, calm, collected, and one hundred percent sure of myself. Now, with Simon sitting in my house, the smell of his cologne wafting toward me, a different desire rises in me.

"One of the things I love about you," he murmurs. "Once a decision is made, you don't back down."

Sort of what got me into this mess with GameSetMatch in the first place. A few friends tried to talk me out of pouring my money into the algorithm. To their every concern, I held up Dean and Ruby as my stellar examples of how well the process could work. Until Simon's name appeared on the screen, I believed it would work for me too. Even now, gazing at him across the coffee table, pieces of me yearn to be next to him. To hear him use the word 'love' in reference to me only strengthens my urge to abandon my cake and indulge in something infinitely sweeter.

I clear my throat and stab my slice with my fork. "You've spoken to Jada. What about the other women?"

"I tried to contact them, but I haven't heard back."

"Having you reject them coupled with the substantial financial loss are good reasons to avoid you."

"Using the word 'reject' is a bit harsh."

"That's not what happened?" I take a bite of the cake and stare at him expectantly.

"I mean, okay, I didn't want to be with them. The real problem, as far as I can tell, is that I didn't agree to any of this. These soulmates kept being thrust on me, and I was expected to welcome them, be grateful for them."

"Why didn't you block them or send them to your junk mail or...anything?"

"At first, I didn't realize how persistent they'd be. Emails, phone calls, text messages. I ignored them all, or if I opened them or answered them, I never replied. They gave Jada my home address which pissed me off. But I honestly didn't realize how often she was at my house until much later. I was working stupid hours." He sighs. "After Jada and the protective order, when I got my next match, I filtered my email to send anything from them to my junk mail." He rubs his forehead. "It's so weird because even back then, the company had a good reputation. People believed what GameSetMatch was selling."

So did I, and maybe he did too if he thought our lives would be ruined by getting married because his dad, GameSetMatch, and his friend Drayton said so. Now, it seems ridiculous to look at an algorithm for a seal of approval, for a guarantee, but I did it, and I suspect part of him did it that night too. He wanted reassurance we'd work long-term, and instead he found naysayers.

"How'd you find the email about me?" 

"Junk mail when I was searching for a message about a bachelor party."

I ignore the flare of sadness that a soulmate was a burden, something someone junked. "So, we know they are or were buying information to use in their database."

"Yes. The other dating agencies and services sell their lists to GameSetMatch."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"They admitted it when I got my third soulmate. Told me to take down my free profile if I wasn't keen to be matched. I did. So, I don't know how..." He glances at me and then looks away.

"You don't know how you got matched with me?"

"No," he admits. "They said they removed me. I don't sign up for online dating stuff. Not worth the hassle." A smile touches the edges of his lips. "Half the women in America become my match."

A small chuckle escapes me, and I give him a sideways glance. "A slight exaggeration." I sip my coffee. "If you'll give me the contact information for the women, I'll reach out to them to see whether they'll talk to me. Maybe they just don't want to talk to you."

"My information could be old," he says, passing me his phone. "It's been a few years since I had my last match."

"Can't win them all." A hint of teasing is in my voice.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I'll try to set up a meeting with GameSetMatch. Pretend to be someone else, hoping to get matched."

"They only take women as clients." I glance up at him. "You knew that?"

"Suspected. I'll get my sister to call. She owes me." He meets my gaze when he accepts his phone back. "Doesn't it seem a tad predatory that they only take women?"

At the time, the company's claim women were better suited to their software didn't sit well with me. But they assured me the men in their database were there by choice. I didn't dig deeper, and maybe their claim isn't a complete lie. Simon did sign up for an internet dating website, but the way they mine content from other sources means their matches aren't up to date. Do they snowball, strong-arm, and cajole other men into breaking up with girlfriends, abandoning wives, or otherwise choosing a different path once they're matched? Is Simon really an outlier?

"It does, yeah," I admit. "Their questionnaire is detailed, and you have to supply character references. They try to make it seem like you're getting your money's worth. Are you sure your sister is up to it?"

"Don't worry," he assures me. "She'll get the appointment. She's tenacious."

"I remember." My voice is soft. At one time, our families were on the cusp of joining together. He's gone quiet, and I wonder whether his mind has ventured to the same place as mine. All the family dinners, the special events, the opportunities to see if we 'fit' together.

"She'll get the appointment," Simon reiterates, his voice hushed.

"I want to come when you confront them." The words leave my mouth before I can think them through. "As long as it's before I move to Scotland, of course."

He stares at me a beat and then takes in the plate on the door again. "When do you leave?"

"Three weeks."

"Wow," he breathes out. "You're not messing around."

"Once a decision is made..."

"Yeah," he says. "I guess so."

"I'll get a stop-over in New York on my way to Scotland if the appointment is cutting it close." Why am I saying this? As long as I get my money back, it doesn't matter if I'm there. Simon is the one with the lengthy history, the one who might enjoy bestowing a giant 'fuck you' to them and their pocketbook.

"Okay." His tone is sad, thoughtful. "Where are you going exactly?"

I take my phone out and open the map app. Before Simon got here, I was pouring over photos of the villages and surrounding area. "The closest place to the farm is called Kearvaig. I'm probably not pronouncing it right."

"A farm?" He peers at the map and then raises his eyebrows.

A small laugh leaves me. "A real farm with sheep, cattle, chickens, and herding dogs. I think it'll be fun...or awful. It might be awful too." The farm is remote, which he warned me about, but checking the map today made me realize how isolated I'll be. No neighbor for miles.

"You'll learn a lot about the large animal arm of veterinary science."

"I know." I abandon my cake and coffee to head into my bedroom. "I've been brushing up on it from college." I grab a textbook off my shelf and turn to head back to the living room, but Simon is standing in my bedroom doorway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. The slouch of his shoulders indicates his uncertainty about following me.

When I get closer with the book, he holds out his hand. "You were always keen on exploring large animal services."

We're standing close, maybe too close while he flips through the textbook. I drink him in and wish I didn't enjoy his company so much. He likes science and scientific things, and he loves animals like me. But there's no reason for him to be leafing through the textbook other than in a show of solidarity or interest in the things I love. My chest warms, and the feeling spreads throughout my body.

"So, you'd have a mixed practice? Wasn't that what you said you wanted your last year in college?"

I stare up at him, and my heart squeezes. He remembered. Our gazes meet, and I search his face, wondering how it's possible to feel so many conflicting emotions about one person. "Yeah," I whisper. "Except Mike wanted to focus on small animal, so I agreed to put our practice more in the city. He was probably right. We've got a good business going. I don't know if it would have been the same out in the country somewhere."

"Now you get to try it." His gaze moves from my lips to my eyes and back again. The textbook lays open in one of his big hands. "I'm happy for you."

But his tone isn't happy—it's sad, wistful. Does he wish we could rewind time? Fall back into each other's arms? Pretend like we never broke up, like he never broke my heart, deceived me? Staring into his deep green eyes, I almost forget why I'm supposed to be mad or disappointed or anything other than in love.

Love?

I step back and grab the book from his hand, slamming it shut and striding to the bookcase to pop it back into its place. Even if I do love him, love is nothing without trust. While he might have told me all the moving pieces that contributed to our downfall six years ago, and while I might sort of understand why he was ashamed, I can't dismiss how he's handled our second chance. Manipulation isn't a good foundation for a relationship.

I stay across the room from him. Pixie, who I put in her crate when Simon arrived, wiggles with eagerness. "So." I keep my distance, not trusting myself to get close to him again. "I'll try to connect with those other women. You try to get us an appointment with GameSetMatch, and we can communicate via text. Okay? There's probably no reason for us to see each other again before New York."

Hurt flashes across his face before he can school his features. "Right. Yeah." He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'll get out of your hair." He turns in the doorway, and then he glances at me over his shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help you get ready to go, just let me know. Move boxes or whatever...I can make myself useful."

It would be so easy to let myself fall into something with him again. I might not like it, might wish it wasn't true, but a part of me will always love Simon. He's in my bones. "Thanks," I say. "A few other people have offered to help, so I think I'm okay."

He catches his bottom lip with his teeth and nods. Then, he's gone from the doorway, and I hear the click of my front door when he leaves.

If you read on Kindle or iBooks, I also have a romantic suspense series through a small publisher. The first in series is called Retribution. 

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