“We’re hoping to get that figure closer to ninety-nine before we take our product to market,” Avery explained. “We’re still tweaking the technology, beta testing on small, select groups, just while we iron out any…kinks.”
“That sounds expensive,” Chloe said, letting out a nervous laugh.
“It is,” Avery said plainly. “Our product is aimed at the one percent.” Chloe’s face fell. She was in the 1 percent of people who, at the age of thirty-one, still slept with a stuffed bear in their childhood bedroom (she’d looked up the stats). But she doubted this was the 1 percent Avery was referring to. “However,” Avery went on, “since we’re still at the trial stage, we’re offering you the opportunity to sign up for two months for free.” She paused, eyes intent on Chloe.
“Oh, right,” said Chloe, daring to feel hopeful again.
“This unique opportunity does come with certain terms and conditions,” Avery explained, pursing her lips, then knitting her fingers together on the desk. “You’ll need to be open-minded.”
“Oh, I am extremely open-minded,” Chloe said, leaning forward in her chair. “I once tried anchovy ice cream.”
“You’ll also need to sign an NDA,” Avery said, sliding a sleek tablet across the desk. The screen glowed with a digital contract full of dense text. “You cannot disclose any information about Perfect Partners to a third party or even acknowledge your involvement in this trial. This is a burgeoning field. Competitors are racing us to market.”
Chloe nodded; she could be discreet. Could she? Well, she’d probably have to tell Akiko, but she’d swear her to secrecy.
“No friends, no family,no one,” Avery reiterated, as though reading Chloe’s mind.
Chloe hesitated, but then she thought of Wendy—glowing, transformed. She scanned the NDA and quickly signed her name in the box at the bottom. Whatever this was, it had to be better than the apps.
Avery took the tablet, then leaned back in her chair, crossing one slim leg over the other. Her movements were fluid, economical, like a dancer’s. “Okay then.”
“So…what happens now?” Chloe asked, her curiosity beyond piqued.
Avery raised a single finger, then tapped away at her computer. Chloe noticed what incredible skin she had—smooth and poreless, not a single flaw. She made a mental note to pick up some SPF on the way home.
“Based on the data you have already provided,” Avery said, eyes on the screen, “we have sourced someone we believe will beperfectfor you.”
“Already?” Chloe blinked in disbelief. “Wow, okay.”
Avery looked up. “Would you like me to introduce you?”
“What, now?”
“Yes.”
Chloe nodded slowly, bemused that they could have found someone suitable so quickly.
Avery picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Yes,” she said into the receiver. “Yes…Yes. Rob Dempsey for Chloe Fairway. Meeting room one.”
Rob Dempsey. That felt like a solid name. Like Robert Redford or Robert Downey Jr. You couldn’t go wrong with a Rob.
Avery stood up and held out a slim, sleek smartwatch. “This is your personalized device. You’ll need to wear it for the duration of the trial.”
Chloe lifted her hand to take it. Avery paused, watching her, waiting for something. “You want me to put it on now?”
“If you could.”
Chloe looked down at the watch. It had a small, black oval screen and a slim elastic strap—just like the one she’d seen Wendy wearing. “It tracks your vital signs, your mood, oxytocin levels, hormone spikes, stress levels. It helps us monitor everything, tells us how things are going.”
Chloe slipped it on, admiring the clean aesthetic of the design. As soon as she had it on her wrist, it made a small beep, and a blue square lit up the screen.
“Right, now that’s out of the way, let’s go meet your match.”
Avery led her back to the waiting room, then turned left and opened a second door, which had “Meeting Room One” written on the front. Inside was a room much larger than Avery’s office. It had red, cushioned velvet walls and dim, romantic lighting. In the center was a table, covered in a white linen tablecloth, withtwo chairs on either side. On top stood a lit candle and a single red rose in a vase. Jazz music played quietly in the background, and there was a subtle aroma of cloves and cinnamon—the room smelled of Christmas, Chloe’s favorite smell.
As Avery ushered her in, it felt like walking into a womb or some trippy dream, the soft, warm colors incongruous next to the cold sterility of the waiting room. On the back wall was a second door, and Chloe’s heart began to race as she saw the figure of a man come through it.
As he walked into the middle of the room and she was able to see him better, her eyes grew wide and she pinched her lips together, suppressing a gasp. He was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders, a warm open face, and a distinct glint in his hazel eyes. His eyebrows were dark and thick, and he had neatly cut brown hair, with a strong, sharp jawline. He looked strangely familiar, though she couldn’t work out why. Had she seen this man in her dreams? All she knew was that he was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she had ever seen in real life. As she stared at him, he walked across to the table, a smile lighting up his face. Then he pulled out a chair to offer her a seat.
