Page 10 of Daring Destiny
I’ve learned as much about Brennan as I can, of course. Per my usual M.O., I’ve done a fair bit of research. In fact, I’m up to speed on the entire McGloughlin clan at this point. Close families intrigue me and this group of brothers is fascinating. Each of them is successful in their own right, and seem to be thick as thieves.
In person, Brennan is taller than I remember, at just over six feet. He’s stocky with broad shoulders, and while he definitely doesn’t give off athletic vibes, he’s not overweight. His thick, brown hair flops around his face like he’s made a half-hearted attempt at styling it. Like me, he’s also dressed casually in a simple black T-shirt and jeans.
Generally, Brennan McGloughlin is not the kind of guy I’d pick out in a crowd. Maybe I should reconsider, considering how shitty my track record is with men.Hmm. We’ll see how this goes. Perhaps I’ll expand my horizons.
“Hi, Brennan.” I hold out my hand and he takes it awkwardly.
We manage some sort of weird handshake. It goes on far too long until, thankfully, he steps aside to let me slide into my side of the green, leather booth.
Up close, he’s boyishly handsome with kind, brown eyes and dimples that deepen when his lips curve into a tentative smile. Hmmm. Yeah. He’s handsome. With a nice jaw line—definitely resembles his more-famous brothers.
The slight awkwardness in the way he flicks his eyes to mine and back to his hands, which are clasped tightly on top of the table, is somewhat endearing. Almost like he’s not entirely comfortable in his own skin. Seattle’s full of these guys—book-smart dudes with brains buzzing on overdrive. Full of brilliant ideas—but, when it comes to women, they have no game.
Like putty in my hands.
I reach into my purse to retrieve Brennan’s belongings, only to find I’ve left it sitting on my kitchen counter.
Whoops.
“So, Astrid.” Brennan’s demeanor abruptly shifts and I’m shocked when he leans forward and cuts to the chase. “What exactly do you need from me?”
Well, then. I stand corrected. I’ve underestimated him.
“Well, sure, let’s get into it.” Effortlessly, I plaster on my work smile. “As you might have realized, our class completely missed the ten-year reunion and, because I was class president, the administration roped me into planning our fifteen-year. I’d like to pick your brain for some ideas on how to make it more…engaging. More inclusive.”
“Huh.” He looks back down at his hands. His brow furrows and he nods slightly. Could I be watching said genius shift into problem-solving mode? I hope so. Because I’m fresh out of ideas.
A server interrupts us. We order lunch and I study Brennan, still waiting for his reply.
“How do you see AI fitting into this?” He cocks his head and looks directly into my eyes. Like he’s trying to figure out if I’ve summoned him here for a bunch of nonsense.
I take a sip of water before I answer, because he’s spot-on. The reunion is stupid. As I told the committee, this is my one and done. “I was thinking we could create something interactive, like a virtual yearbook or an AI-driven experience to match people with classmates they’ve lost touch with.”
Brennan watches me intently when I speak, triggering a long-forgotten memory from classes we had together. It’s his eyes. Soulful. Gentle. I remember him intensely staring at me in class, almost like heknewme. Maybe he’s always been focused in this way. Giving his full attention to people. Making them feel like they matter.
Sitting across from him, he certainly seems interested. What a rare gift in this day and age when most conversations are carried on as an afterthought while being distracted by a screen.
“I remember you from high school, you know.” I find myself abruptly shifting topic when another vivid memory resurfaces. “You were such a nice guy. One time I overheard you talking to your friends in computer lab sticking up for me.”
His face pinkens and he blinks rapidly as he tries to piece together what the hell I’m talking about. “Computer lab?”
“Yeah.” I rest my cheek in my palm as I recall the event. “Some of the kids were going off. Making fun of cheerleaders. One of them said something mean about me—how I was all looks and no brains. You defended me. Told them, ‘Just because Astrid is popular doesn’t mean she’s shallow.’”
He’s silent for a moment, clearly taken aback. “You heard me? I didn’t know you were there.”
“I did and I was, I reply softly. “It meant a lot to me. The day had been rough. Afterward, I noticed you had such a cool way of paying attention to everyone. It didn’t matter if they were jocks or academics, you didn’t seem to hold on to stupid stereotypes.”
Brennan’s expression changes from skepticism to relief. “I’ve never understood why people can’t be more accepting, you know? High school is hard enough without dealing with such harsh judgments.”
”Idoknow.” I nod with unexpected enthusiasm. “At least we survived, right?”
He chuckles and the tension between us eases a bit. “Yeah, we did.”
I try to process this side of Brennan. Personality is impossible to discern through news articles. I already know he’s a genius who’s singularly focused on his company. This man is also thoughtful and kind. Motivated by something deeper than money and power.
I’mthe one who clings to preconceived judgements about people. Maybe I should take a page out of his book.
“We could use AI to create personalized experiences.” Brennan drums his fingers on the table. “Maybe I could build an app or something to highlight key moments with an augmented reality twist. Depending on what you’re thinking, we could find a way to ‘revisit’ prom, graduation, or even old classrooms with a modern, interactive element.”