Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Her phone screen went dark. She waited … and waited. No voicemail. Great. Now she would have to call him.
Jess returned to her laptop, finger hovering absently over the keyboard. She’d resisted doing this so far, but the urge was too tempting. Jess typed Dr. River Peña into the search bar and pressed Enter. The results populated the page: medical articles, UCSD alumni posts, awards. LinkedIn, ResearchGate. She clicked on the image tab, and low-resolution thumbnails filled the screen. The first photo was a faculty shot taken, according to the caption, while he was a postdoctoral researcher in the Division of Medical Genetics at UCSD. There were more recent ones, too: pictures with investors at various fundraising events. In each, he looked easy in his skin. In each, he was smiling. Jess was so unprepared for the sight of his crinkly eyes and uneven, perfect grin that she felt that weird hot flush of defensive anger. She’d caught hints of his smile in passing, but usually only as smug amusement or flashes of embarrassed laughter. Jess had never seen it like this: bright and sincere. And pointed right at her.
“Ooh, who’s that?”
“Nobody.” She slammed her laptop shut and picked up her coffee with all the subtlety of a cartoon criminal. “I was just …” With renewed focus, she flipped open Juno’s book again. “So, roller coasters, then?”
Daughter slyly appraised mother. Suspicion slid across Juno’s features, but was quickly replaced by the realization that she’d just gotten her way. “Yes!”
Closing the book, she scooped it up with the others and raced toward her room. “I’m gonna look at the train schedule on your iPad!”
Jess began to argue, but her phone vibrated on the table. It was a text from the same unknown number.
Would you like to have dinner?
(It’s River.)
Her lungs filled with helium.
Does that mean you reproduced the finding?
David just emailed the graph. I called to share the results.
But it’s a yes on the finding?
98, confirmed.
Jess stared at her phone while her heart decided to absolutely freak the hell out inside her body. Flipping, flopping, punching. It was real.
It was real.
She knew it was her turn to say something, but her hands had gone vaguely numb. Stalling, she clicked on the phone number and entered it under Americano Phlebotomist in her contacts.
Finally, the three dots appeared, indicating that he was typing.
Are you free tonight?
Slowly, one letter carefully tapped at a time, she managed to reply.
Bahn Thai. Park & Adams. 7:30
Park in the alley in the back
“Four letters down,” Pops said across the room. “First letter is L—‘hurdle.’”
Pushing her phone aside, Jess bent to rest her head on her folded arms.
“Leap,” she said.
“HONESTLY, JESSICA, I haven’t seen outfit panic like this since I wrote Nicoline in His Accidental Bride.” Fizzy stepped back to judge what had to be outfit change number 142. “And you’re not even pretending to be a virgin picking out what to wear on your Victorian-era wedding night. Take it down a notch.”
Jess took in her reflection, styled and polished and hilariously unfamiliar in a padded push-up bra and V-neck sweater with a neckline so plunging it nearly reached hell. “Fizzy, I cannot wear this.”
“Why not?”
“For starters?” she said, motioning to the mirror. “I can almost see my belly button.”
Fizzy blinked. “And?”
Jess yanked the sweater over her head, tossed it onto the bed, and reached for a distressed chambray shirt she’d picked up at a boutique in LA last summer. It didn’t fit quite the same with the benefit of Fizzy’s padded bra, but even Jess had to admit she (they) looked pretty good.
She added a layered necklace, tucked the shirt into the front of dark jeans, and turned to face Fizzy. “Well?”
Fizzy looked her up and down, a smile parting her cherry-red lips. “You look hot. How’re you feeling?”
“Like I might throw up.”
She laughed. “It’s dinner,” Fizzy said. “Next door. You’ll have some tom ka, some duck green curry, and if at any point you think you’ve made a mistake, leave him with the check and come home. Listen to your gut. We’ll be right here.”
NO EXAGGERATION: THEY were right there. The restaurant Jess had chosen was on the other side of their fence, which meant she was already seated at a table outside when River showed up. He was five minutes early, but going by his expression of surprise, Jess could only assume she’d derailed his plan to get there first, get comfortable, and be seated with ease by the time she arrived.
He stopped when he saw her, midstep, uncharacteristically caught off guard. “Oh.” He looked around the sidewalk. “I— Sorry, I thought you said seven thirty.”
Jess indulged in a quick scan. Even though it was Saturday, she assumed he’d just come from work—he was wearing dark navy trousers, a white button-down shirt with the collar open—but his clothes looked crisp, and his hair was freshly washed and finger-raked.