“Yes. That’s all I’m sorry for. Nothing else,” I say, watching him carefully.
Bennett reacts to my expression with one that looks like surprise. “I appreciate that. Though the word mad sounds extreme. Hurt, yes. But I can handle a little bad press. I wish it didn’t come from you, is all. The manipulating-a-match thing I honestly can’t be mad about. You beat the algorithm. That’s impressive.”
I lift my chin up. “That’s right. Remember that’s who you’re dealing with. Someone who beats algorithms.”
Bennett inhales sharply before finally saying, “I’m sorry, too, for not telling you I knew who you were.”
My shoulders relax in relief. It feels good to come to some kind of understanding. “Now I guess we’re back to being even.”
“How about we make a pact not to lie to each other anymore?” Bennett says.
I tilt my head forward. “Why?”
“We’ve lied to each other enough, don’t you think?”
“You’re probably right. I guess I can agree to that,” I say. “So you’ll tell me what the product launch is then?”
Bennett’s face glimmers with amusement. “That’s a surprise, not a lie.”
“Fine, then be honest with me about Pó Po.”
Bennett takes a step closer, and I can feel the heat of his body take the chilly edge off. “That would be a weird and specific thing to lie about. She really did match my parents.”
I think for a few seconds. “I’ll have to ask her to confirm.”
“Want to stroll?” Bennett asks, glancing over my head at Harper.
I look over in the same direction. She’s engrossed in conversation with her group of friends. “Quickly. Tell me more about Pó Po. Then get back there and be social.”
We weave around families and children munching on dumplings, making our way to nowhere in particular. I unzip my jacket to release some of the heat forming in my chest. Too much boba beer probably.
“You didn’t expose Pó Po on stage. Why?” I ask as we walk side by side under colorful archways.
Bennett lifts an eyebrow in surprise. “What was there to out?”
“That she made an incompatible match,” I say grimly.
He tucks his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. The curves of his upper arm muscles are accentuated as the fabric of his sweater pulls tighter against his body. My heart rate quickens when I notice the way he’s looking over at me. “Your Pó Po made a successful match.”
“Not technically. You could’ve delegitimized our entire business in ten seconds.”
“The legacy and credibility of Lunar Love isn’t hanging by the thread of one incompatible match,” he says. “You’re known for your quality matches, period. I think it’s you getting hung up on needing every match to be perfectly compatible.”
“It’s how relationships should be,” I say firmly.
“Olivia, you’ll miss out on good people if you believe compatibility is the one and only way to love,” Bennett says. “Trust me on this.”
“No, I’ll only avoid the wrong people if I do,” I retort. “Pairing incompatible animal signs together only leads to trouble.”
In the courtyard, the live band finishes their set and switches out with a guitarist who starts playing an acoustic version of “What a Wonderful World.” A few of the older couples slow dance in the courtyard, their heads resting against one another. Unexpected longing for something indescribable strikes me suddenly. I swat the emotions away.
“Look, it’s your nightmare,” I joke, swaying to the music.
Bennett ignores the dancers. He doesn’t even tap his foot to the beat. Instead, he just examines my face. “Life is restrictive as it is. Why set more boundaries for yourself?”
“You never answered my original question backstage about how you know me through Pó Po,” I push back, changing topics.
“She talked about you,” he says casually.
“What, did you meet every week for brunch or something?” I ask sarcastically, lifting and dropping my shoulders to imitate his nonchalance. “Elaborate. I need more details. Where and when did you meet? What did she say exactly? You have to tell me. We just made a pact!”
“She told me that you would be taking over Lunar Love soon. She showed me photographs. You were a pretty cute kid.” Bennett grins, the beauty mark on his cheek lifting with the corner of his eyes.
I bury my face in my hands. “Oh, god.”
“What’s so bad about childhood photos?” he says with a laugh.
I spread my fingers over my eyes and peek at Bennett through them. “It’s not that. You were both conspiring!”
Bennett turns to walk sideways, bending closer to look at me through my window-fingers. “You make it sound a lot shadier than it was. She didn’t mention me to you at all?”
“Definitely not,” I say on an irritated exhalation.
Bennett sighs. “Your turn. What really happened at the baking class?”
We find an empty spot to sit at the Mission Playhouse’s curved fountain, the sculpture in the center spilling over with water from top to middle to bottom. From here, I can see Harper, who’s laughing and chatting with her friends, not looking like she’s missing Bennett at all. That’s not a great sign.
I refocus on Bennett. “I told you, it was a friend from a past life. That’s all there is to know.”
“Pact,” Bennett says, holding his hand over his chest.
“Was that a trick? Just so I’d tell you?” I ask defensively.
Bennett crosses his ankle over his knee and rests his elbow on his thigh. “You promised.”
I sigh. “She really was an old, close friend. Colette.” Saying her name brings her ghost to life. Water splashes into the center of the fountain, sending ripples outward toward us. I bite my lip, trying to find the words. “I destroyed her life.”
Bennett doesn’t laugh or scoff. He sits and waits patiently for me to continue, his calmness encouraging me.
“I didn’t know she was back in town,” I add. “Seeing her was surreal.”
“How did you destroy her life?” Bennett asks without a trace of judgment in his voice. He’s in the middle of a date but is acting like he has all the time in the world for me.
“By matching her with someone incompatible.” I stare at the mossy floor of the fountain to avoid eye contact with him. The lights around the circumference of the fountain wall power on, making the water glitter in the lavender dusk. “I convinced her to let me match her. When she finally agreed, I was in a place in my life where I thought incompatible matches were harmless. I learned my lesson. I’ll never let that happen again.”
“That’s tough,” Bennett says.
I spiral deeper into my memories, reflecting on what happened. It wouldn’t be the first time these thoughts have taken over.
“I must’ve missed something in the background check,” I try to reason. “The guy convinced Colette to make a sketchy investment, took her money, and then vanished. That happened because of me. He tricked us both.”