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for animals, and having comfort items can make them settle more easily. That’s all I wanted to do . . . make Raffy feel secure so that Riley would be comfortable here too.

An instant later, she throws her arms around my neck and gives me the sloppiest kiss ever. I love it.

“That’s the sweetest thing ever!”

They’re tears of happiness, salty bits of her joy spilling out of her heart and down her face. I smile, wanting to lick her cheeks to taste that happiness, but I settle for swiping her tears away with a gentle thumb.

Riley goes off in a whirlwind of bliss. “Look, Raffy,” she tells him as she shows him the dog bowls, “these are for you.” Raffy sniffs the bowls, but he must not be hungry. Hopefully, it’s that and not that I bought the wrong food. Riley picks him up and carries him over to the bed, placing him in the middle of the pouf. “This is for you too.” She picks up a squeaky bone and lays it at his feet. He sniffs it once, licks it, and then starts gnawing on it like it wronged him in some way. The more it squeaks, the more he attacks it. The bone is a major hit.

“Tell Noah thank you, Raffy,” Riley tells the dog expectantly.

He looks up from the bone and says, “Thank you.” Well, in Riley’s head he must, because she praises him with pats and loving whispers, but of course, he didn’t say anything because he’s a dog. Not even a bark of appreciation.

But Riley’s appreciation is all I need.

“I know it’s a little early, but are you ready for dinner? I worked straight through today, never stopping for lunch. The last thing I had was my protein smoothie after my run and then copious amounts of coffee all day. I don’t even want to discuss the amount of caffeine running through my veins right now.”

“Sure,” Riley says agreeably, following me into the kitchen. “Why’d you work through lunch? Everything okay?”

We work together in a dance, pulling out the Thai takeout I ordered and putting it on plates to reheat in the microwave.

“Yes and no. River and I have been busting ass, working with the whole team to get the stats up. Downloads and usage aren’t what we hoped they’d be. They’re fine, keeping up with our conservative predictions, but only by the skin of our teeth, and they’re definitely not on the upward trajectory we’d actually hoped for. The plateau is killing us.”

“Meeting expectations is good, though. It means your planning was accurate. If you were way over or under, it’d reflect that you didn’t do your market analysis correctly. And we both know that would never happen,” she teases, knowing me too well. “I mean, I know you want to have higher stats, obviously, but BlindDate is doing well, right?”

“Currently, I’d agree. But there’s a launch period of huge growth followed by stagnation. Standard market introduction excitement. The concern is that if we’re only touching at the numbers with the momentum of the launch, the sustainability won’t be there. And if people aren’t joining every day, existing members leave the app because they don’t get new matches.”

I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know. Riley is all too aware of how marketing and social media work, but apps are a different creature, and even a single one-star review can tank a year’s worth of work.

We carry our warmed plates of chicken Pad Thai to the dining table and sit down. Raffy eyes us, hoping to be called over for his own plate of dinner, but this is too spicy for him. He’ll get no table scraps tonight, but I might’ve also bought him a few more blueberry muffin biscuit treats. Just in case I need to bribe him a bit.

“Enjoy the current success. Think back to the day you made those statistical predictions. If Past Noah had been told that you’d hit them right on the money, you would’ve been thrilled. So these numbers are worth celebrating,” Riley says in her sunny, positive way. “As for moving forward, you and River will work it out and get through the growing pains. I have faith in the two of you. Mostly you.” She winks, letting me know that she’s not discounting her brother in any way but is building me up, supporting me, and being a cheerleader for my dreams.

Failure isn’t an option to her, not because things don’t sometimes work the way you want them to but because if it doesn’t happen, it’s merely because something else was meant to be.

Everything is an opportunity in Riley Watson’s eyes.

I wish I could see the world that way. It’s not all fail or succeed, worthy or not now. She is changing me for the better, but it’s an ongoing process. I’d like to think I’m having a positive impact on her too, being a place where she can relax and let someone take care of her for a change. I’m good at that. Taking care of people is where I thrive.

“Thank you,” I tell her genuinely. With a smirk, I agree, “Especially the ‘me’ part. Carrying River is getting to be a pain in the ass.”

Riley laughs, digging into her plate of noodles. “Ooh, you’re in trouble. I’m totally telling him you said that.”

“You think he doesn’t know?” I joke back, enjoying that we can joke about our siblings now that everything’s in the open and our families are on board with us. Not that any argument from them would’ve changed things, but we love our families, and their support makes this easier for Riley and me.

We finish dinner and put our plates in the dishwasher. Riley wipes down the counter, but I notice she’s cleaning the same already-spotless area over and over. I lean back on the cabinet, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?” I ask.

She pauses, looking over her shoulder at me. “I’m guessing that if you were busy at work today

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