Page 51 of The Love Operation

His grin stretches wide.

“Board games are perfect for competitive people,” I say, arms crossed. “Maybe I can beat you at one of these later.”

His eyes gleam. “If your ego doesn’t get in the way, then sure.”

I toss him a mischievous grin. “We’ll see.” Then I settle back onto the couch and gesture toward his notes. “But first, we’ve got more ground to cover.”

“Of course.”

“I think it’s time for a lightning round.”

He rubs his hands together. “Bring it.”

“What’s one thing you’d never compromise on in a relationship?”

“Fidelity,” he says, almost before I’ve finished the question. “I want someone who wants to be with me. No doubts. No second-guessing.”

“Agreed,” I say. “We’re on the same page there.”

His brows lift. “What about you?”

“Partnership,” I answer just as easily. “I want someone who respects what I do and supports me in my endeavors. Someone who understands that I will never be a trophy or an accessory, but an equal.”

I wait for his response.

A smile tugs at the edge of his mouth. “Your testy eyebrow seems to want me to confirm that, yes, I see you as an equal. I already respect you, Cord, and it would be an honor to support you as a partner.”

Warmth eases into my veins, making me feel a little gooey inside. “Good.” Then I point at him like he’s up on Jeopardy! “Describe your perfect Sunday.”

He squints at the ceiling. “Sleep in. Coffee and breakfast late. I do go to church, so after that . . . anything goes. Relax at home and watch movies with popcorn or go out to an art museum or picnic in the park. I like being spontaneous.”

I stare at him, deadpan. “Are you reading my mind?”

“No, but I like that I could be. That’s a good sign. My turn. Edging on what I already mentioned . . . Are you religious?”

I shift, sitting cross-legged. “I go to church when I’m not working or I’m not too exhausted. But . . . I guess my faith is more personal now.” I swirl the wine in my glass, choosing my words carefully. “I grew up in a religious household. We never missed a Sunday, and there were a lot of rules. Some of them made sense. Some of them felt . . . performative.” I glance at him. “I had to unlearn some things, figure out what faith actually meant to me.”

Isaac listens intently, like this answer matters. “And what does it mean to you?”

“Still figuring that out.” I offer a small smile. “But I know I believe in something bigger than myself. I don’t think I could take people apart and put them back together if I didn’t. This isn’t always common, but science and faith go hand in hand for me. I believe in purpose. In people. In doing good.”

He nods like that sits right with him. “I like that.”

“You said you go to church?” I ask. “What denomination?”

“Episcopalian.”

“And you like it?”

“I do.” He watches me. “Would you ever come with me?”

I tilt my head, considering. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

His smile is slow, deliberate. “Good.”

“Okay, now that we’ve got the light stuff out of the way, let’s go deeper.” I bob my eyebrows. “What side of the bed do you sleep on?” I ask, continuing the lightning round.

“The one you don’t.”