JON

I go for a run after India leaves to clear my head and get ready for an afternoon at the office. Although it's Sunday, I usually don't take the day off unless I have out of town travel.

After my run and shower, I get dressed and am a bit late getting in to work.

I check India's office, but she's out with her friends and visiting her mother so I don't expect her in until later in the afternoon. I have a meeting with one of my staff, and after the meeting's over, I go out to the main office and see that Chris's office door is open.

He waves me in.

I go inside and he points at the door. "Close it, will you?"

I do and sit across from him, wondering if there's a problem with the financial side of things.

"What's up?"

He folds his hands and gives me this tired look. "India was in wondering how much her shares would be worth if she cashed them in now."

"What?" I frown and look down at the floor, trying to take in what Chris just said. India's considering selling her shares?

"She asked me not to say anything, but I thought you should know, just in case she's planning to leave. Replacing her would be quite a challenge. There aren't too many CTOs wandering the streets looking for work, especially not with her experience in the aerospace industry. We should do some quiet headhunting just in case."

I sit, unable to respond at first, totally shocked that India would even consider leaving Pacifica.

I could see her telling me to fuck off, but Pacifica? It's her baby as much as mine. Or any of the partners who came together initially to fund and build it.

"Thanks for giving me a heads-up. Don't talk to anyone else until I have some time to feel India out, okay? I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves on this. It may be nothing."

"Sure," he says and gives me a nod. "Like I said, I just thought you should know in case she really does decide to leave."

"No problem." I sit up straighter. "Was there anything else? Anything I should be aware of?"

"Not on my part. Everything's fine."

"Good." I stand and rub my hands together. "I'll leave you to it."

I leave and make my way back to my office. India's door is still closed and I stand outside and debate with myself whether to go inside and confront her or wait.

I don't want her to think I've been gossiping about her behind her back. Which I have been doing, of course.

I decide to wait and bring it up when it's not posed so confrontationally. Maybe tonight after we have dinner together – and I plan on making dinner for her and fucking her brains out – I'll very deftly talk about Pacifica's market capitalization and how much it's improved, and ask her gently about her talk with Chris.

I try to focus on work and spend some time going over the financial reports that have been sitting on my desk for a couple of days, unread. After about an hour, I look up when India's door opens across the hall from me and she leaves, her bag on her shoulder.

She doesn't look my way or pop her head in to say hello.

She's leaving already?

I sit for a moment and debate whether to follow her.

I hear her speaking with our admin staff, and then nothing.

She's actually leaving without saying anything to me...? That's when I know something's wrong.

I hop up and leave my office, determined to follow her and confront her about that much, even if I hold off talking to her about what Chris told me.

I catch up to her at the stairs and grab hold of her arm, turning her around to face me on the landing.

"Were you going to leave the office without even saying hello?"

"Oh, Jon," she says, like she's surprised. We're alone but she still glances around to check. "You scared me. I'm just going to get a juice." She forces a smile. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather and thought some apple-carrot-kale would be good."

"I'll join you."

Her smile fades.

That’s when I know she wasn't planning on coming back.

"I was going to go see my mom after I get the juice."

"You're not coming back to the office?"

She shakes her head. "I've put in a few hours. Besides, I want to cook supper for my dad. He's been eating cafeteria food all week."

I let go of her arm and she starts down the rest of the stairs.

I don't try to stop her. "Come over after you're done supper if you want."

She glances back at me. "I'll see how I feel."

"Open invitation."

"I know," she adds and forces a smile. "If I don’t see you tonight, I'll see you at work tomorrow. Same time, same bat channel."

I smile at her Batman reference, but I feel a knot in my gut.

Her leaving and not telling me isn't out of the norm. She would always pop her head in and say hello, but she would often leave without saying goodbye. Not seeing her until tomorrow is totally normal for us – before we fucked.

Now, it feels like she's ignoring me. Deliberately or not.

I don't like the way it feels.

"India," I call out. She stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns around, looking up at me on the landing.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

She nods, but it isn't exactly enthusiastic. "I'm tired. I guess the stress of everything is getting to me. I need to take some time off."

I come down the stairs and stand in front of her, my hand on the door. "You can talk to me about anything, you know."

"I know," she says softly but I can tell from her voice that she doesn't feel that way.

Obviously, she doesn't feel she can talk to me about anything anymore.

"Has this totally fucked our relationship?"

She exhales and looks away, like she can't meet my eyes. "I don't know."

"I don’t want this to have fucked things up."

"Me neither."

"You have to tell me how you feel, India."

"I don't know how I feel, Jon, except confused." She meets my eyes finally, and I see the pain in them – in the way her brow is furrowed. It's not anger. It's sadness.

I reach out and cup her cheek, stroke her skin with my fingers. "I only know that I want you," I say, because it's the truth. "Whatever that means and whatever that involves."

She nods, but she doesn't reply with something similar. Instead, she pushes the door open and leaves me standing there in the entrance, the door closing behind her.

Crap.

I watch her walk down the street until she disappears around the corner.

Now what the fuck do I do?

I sit back down behind my desk and glower at my computer screen. On it, a report on third quarter projections sits unread. I try to read it, but end up only re-reading the same sentence over and over.

Then Marina sends me a text.

MARINA: I have a new match for you. If you want to meet her, she's ready and willing! She'd like to meet at Mulvaney's for a drink if you're interested. I'll send you her profile but she's a massage therapist with an interest in interior decoration and real estate flipping. She's twenty-five and has a certificate in massage therapy from the Brookbridge Institute. You can see that she's gorgeous and blonde, just the way you like them! Tell me this isn't a perfect match! Let me know when you want to meet her.

I read over the profile Marina sent to my email. The photo depicts a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and lots of makeup. She's wearing something seductive – a deep-cut sweater that shows off ample cleavage.

Typical of Marina to have matched me with someone who is everything I would normally prefer in a woman – beautiful, blonde, tall, built, and looking for an uncomplicated relationship for fun and social engagements: No long-term commitments! I'm too young!

I want to put her off, but make her think I support her. For India's sake.

JON: She's lovely, but I'm too busy right now with work to be meeting anyone. Maybe after a few of our upcoming business trips and contract negotiations are finished.

MARINA: So you like her? She's perfect, right? I'll tell her you’re definitely interested but maybe in a few weeks?

JON: I'll let you know if and when I'm available. How's that sound?

MARINA: Okay. Don't wait too long. A beautiful woman like her will be snapped up quickly.

JON: I'm sure she will be. By the way, I thought your app was for Stanford grads. None of the women you've matched me with are from Stanford.

MARINA: Oh, it's for Stanford men, mostly.

JON: But you're matching India…

MARINA: She's just a test subject to see if I can match Stanford women. There not as plentiful in grad school – only thirty-nine percent – so I'm focusing on the men first. They're pretty easy – a beautiful woman, great figure, smile, and easy-going attitude. Most men are intimidated by a woman as smart and successful as India, so only the most confident and successful guys will do in her case.

JON: I think that's sexist, isn’t it?

MARINA: No, it's realist, Jon. In case you didn’t live in the real world. Which you don't. I mean, you’re the CEO of a multimillion-dollar tech company. You're handsome and well-educated. You have your pick of the crop as a result. Not all Stanford grads are as successful as you or have the same options as you. You live in a very rarefied atmosphere.

JON: Yes, I realize that. I don’t need your app to find a date, Marina. I'm only going along to help you out because you’re India's friend.

MARINA: I know you don't need my help getting laid, Jon. But finding a girlfriend? Maybe, yes. In fact, I think so. Definitely.

JON: I don’t need help finding a girlfriend, Marina. Given MATCHED's failure to find me anyone even remotely interesting, I think you better go back to the drawing board.

Oh, crap… Now I’ve done it.

MARINA: ‘Remotely interesting’? Those women were beautiful and sexy and would have been happy to go home with you. That's always been good enough for you before.

JON: It's obvious we don't see eye to eye on this. I gotta go and get some work done.

MARINA: So, do I strike you off my list of customers?

JON: Yes, please do.

I turn off my cell and slam it down on the desktop.

Goddamn meddling woman.

I spend another couple of hours at work and then plan to leave just after five. Everyone else has left for the day, so I close up and walk down to the parking garage where I keep my vehicle. I get inside and sit there, wondering what the fuck is going on with India.

Is she really thinking of selling her stocks in Pacifica and leaving?

That's it – we fucked and it's screwed with her mind.

She's one of those women who doesn't fuck around. She only has serious relationships – hasn't she told me that for years? Yet, she fucked me.

Now she regrets it. It's not in her to just have casual sex with someone – even someone she really likes. I've always known that.

What the fuck was I thinking, breaching that divide between us that kept us professional?

I wanted to have my cake and eat it, too.

India and Pacifica have always gone hand in hand for me. I've always wanted them both – together, preferably. I thought I could have them both.

I hope I wasn't wrong.

I don't want to go back to my apartment alone, so I call up my old friend Dan from the Army and invite him for a drink. He's only too happy to meet me. We used to surf together, and did some base jumping down in South America one year. He's a wild man and loves the adrenaline rush as much as I do.

We meet at a local bar just down the block from where I live.

He looks just the same as before – tall, heavy-set but ripped, a big fucker with a head of jet black hair and bulging muscles under a white t-shirt and jeans.

We clasp hands and hug briefly before sitting down at the bar and catching up on what we've both been up to.

"I know Pacifica's doing well," Dan says after a long pull on his draft beer. "I saw some report on CNBC that mentioned you guys."

"It is doing well," I say, and tell him about our recent contracts with the Defense Department. As for Dan, he's a consultant in a security company and is thinking of starting his own business.

"So, what about that pretty CTO of yours?" he asks me. "India? Is she still there?"

"She is," I say, remembering how Dan hung around India when he met her a couple of years ago.

"Is she still single?" he asks, his expression unreadable. "She was one pretty little filly."

I laugh at his tone. "You liked her," I say and it's a statement, not a question.

"I did," he says, finally smiling. "What's she doing? Is she married yet?"

"No," I say, then I tell him about us. "In fact, we kind of got together recently, but I'm not sure if things will work out."

"Oh, that's too bad," he says, genuinely sympathetic. "It must be hard to have a relationship with a business partner. Especially when it doesn’t work out."

I shrug. "I'm fine with it, but she's uncomfortable. We're trying to figure things out."

"Well, I hope it works out for you."

We talk some more about his life and how he's dating again after the divorce, and is looking for a new woman who could be a mother to his two children, whom he has shared custody of.

"So you're totally domesticated, are you?" I say with a laugh.

"Happily," he replies, holding up his glass of beer. "A man without the love of a good woman is only a shell."

I laugh and take a drink. "Speak for yourself. I'm not a shell."

"Of course you aren’t," he says. "But a man can only take so much meaningless pussy before he craves something real."

I don't say anything in response.

After an awkward silence, we move on to future plans and how we both want to do some more surfing when the waves are good. The rest of the hour goes by quickly and then, after we've finished the food, it's time to leave.

We shake hands again and hug, and I walk him to his van, just down the block.

"Don’t be a stranger," he says.

We fist bump. "I won't."

I watch him drive off in his van and think how much he's changed since we were in the Army together.

Back then, he was a wild man who picked up every piece of ass that passed his way and offered. He was an adrenaline junkie who seemed to defy death with every fall and crash and IED. He loved the ladies, he loved his beer, and he loved being a soldier.

Now, he's a security analyst with two kids and an ex-wife, looking for a good woman to move in and take her place.

Is that my future?

I don't want to become the man in the gray flannel suit who is so strapped by debt and busy with responsibilities that I never have any fun.

Is that what India wants?

I can't see her staying at home with kids and a house to clean, giving up business to raise a family. Maybe I don't really know her.

I want her. That's not the issue. I want us to be together. I also want us both to focus on Pacifica and our mutual success.

She was thinking of cashing out and leaving Pacifica.

Fuck…