Love and the Laws of Motion Page 25

  Twisting her ridiculous rope of hair into a knot on her head, she headed back to her room, sat down at her desk, and got to it.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Jesus, what a fucking mess.” Nick’s eyes were burning and bloodshot from another sleepless night and unrelenting hours of staring at a glowing blue screen full of coding.

  “You said that twenty minutes ago. And twenty minutes before that.” Luke’s voice rose up, disembodied, from behind a wall of monitors on the other side of the table. He and Nick had been hunched here behind their respective phalanx of screens for days, unpicking this knot of coding.

  “Because I still can’t believe these guys were this inept.”

  “Well, you get what you pay for. They paid for shit and they got shit. I think we’re almost there, though. When you’re finished backing up to the server, we should give it another test run.”

  “I still have to sort out the security back door and a hundred other things.”

  This whole fucking website was a nightmare, so badly conceived and executed that starting from scratch would have been easier than fixing what was already here. He hated this kind of mind-numbing work, scanning thousands of lines of coding looking for tiny mistakes that needed correcting. There was nothing new or interesting about it, nothing to be learned, no creativity he could bring to bear to solve a problem. Nothing but tedium and sleep-deprivation. Why exactly had he said yes to this project? He’d been asking himself that all week.

  Twelve hours of sleep in four days, never more than an hour at a stretch, on the hard, scratchy couch in the corner, shitty takeout food, enough coffee to make his nerves vibrate. And for the privilege of enjoying this miserable experience, he’d blown up everything with—

  He couldn’t even think of Livie’s name without feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

  It had been days and he wasn’t getting any better. Every time he thought about her—and she was in his head constantly, despite the never-ending lines of code—he couldn’t breathe.

  When she’d ended things between them on her front porch, he’d been too stunned to fight her on it, or even respond much. How had a quick job in California turned into a fight that vicious? How had they ended up saying such ugly, hurtful things to each other? While he’d been standing there trying to figure out a way to back down off that cliff, she’d ended everything between them with a few brief, brutal, dismissive words.

  It was undoubtedly all his fault. He’d gotten angry and said things he shouldn’t have said. Sure Livie was hiding out at home because she was scared, but who was she hurting, outside of herself? If that’s what she wanted from her life, who was he to judge her?

  Before his plane had even landed in San Jose, he’d figured out she’d been right about his motivations. Yes, Luke was a friend in a bind, but he doubted he’d have acquiesced so quickly if he wasn’t standing in the midst of his newly recovered family, feeling shaky and volatile, conflicted and still a little angry, when he’d called.

  Emotionally stunted moron that he’d always been, he’d jumped at the first opportunity to escape, no matter who it hurt. His family, looking at him with wounded eyes as he made his excuses and split—Livie, hurling her fury at him as he picked up and left her for some crummy job. He’d left a lot of carnage behind him when he’d boarded that plane at JFK.

  Livie had said things in anger, too, but she hadn’t bolted for the airport like he had. When he’d lashed out, he’d hurt everyone around him, starting with her. Maybe they’d never spelled out what they were to each other, but he owed her better than this. Unfortunately, it seemed he might never get the chance to make it up to her. And the thought of that was beginning to make him feel a whole new kind of panic. Ending a casual fling wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to feel this lost. Confused. Devastated.

  “Hey, man.” Luke’s voice startled him out of the hazy fog of exhaustion and guilt he’d been sinking into. “Since you’re back, I got a million gigs I could use your help on.”

  “I’m not back, Luke. I still live in Brooklyn.”

  Luke scoffed. “You only moved there for that chick, the model. And you told me you guys broke up.”

  “But I’m still not moving back to California.”

  “Why not? All the work is here.”

  “I pick up plenty of work in New York.”

  “All the big money is here.”

  “I have plenty of money.”

  “But, Brooklyn, man. What the hell is keeping you there?”

  “I’m with someone. It’s important.” That first part was a lie, since Livie had just chucked him out of her life. But the second part was the absolute truth, he suddenly realized. Livie was important. She was fucking vital. That was the reason for this feeling he couldn’t shake. That’s why he felt panicky at the thought of never seeing her again. He hadn’t just left Livie behind on her front stoop, he’d left a big, important part of himself behind, too. The better part of himself that Livie seemed to bring out—the unselfish part, the dependable part, the part of him who won over her family, who forgave his own.

  And no matter what he did, no matter how far he ran, he wasn’t ever going to feel whole again until he got them both back—Livie and that better version of himself.

  “She’s important?” Luke echoed.

  Nick jerked, like he’d been scalded, and blinked at the monitors in front of him. What the hell was he doing here again?

  “I’m in love with her.” He heard the words from a distance, like somebody else had spoken them. In love with her? Where had that come from? Was he in love with her?

  “You said that a year ago, when you met the flower chick.”

  “Poppy. I was wrong. I didn’t know the first fucking thing about love.”

  “And now you do?” Luke sounded dubious.

  “Now I do.” Yes, he realized, now he knew exactly what love felt like. It felt like this.

  Love. All this time, he’d been bending himself into knots trying to figure out if Poppy had ever loved him, whether he’d ever loved her. He’d been asking himself the wrong question. It didn’t matter how he might have once felt about Poppy. All that mattered was how he now felt about Livie. And now, sitting here on the other side of the country, half-blind and punch-drunk with exhaustion, he knew the answer, without a shadow of a doubt. He loved Livie. And he’d just lost her. Fuck.

  “Is this the space chick?”

  “The what?”

  “You said you were doing that Hubble telescope project with some science chick.”

  “Livie. Her name is Livie. I’m in love with Livie.” Every time he said it, he was more certain. The feeling was expanding inside of him, flowing into all the dusty, unused corners of his heart. He’d never been as certain of anything as he was of this emotion—he was in love with Livie. And somehow, he was going to prove it to her and get her back.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Outside of Langley’s office on Monday morning, Livie steeled herself for the meeting, suppressing every unpleasant feeling she had about the man. This was business. The application for time on Hubble was finished. She’d spent the whole weekend polishing it to perfection. But she needed one critical thing before she could submit it—Janet’s signature. And since that was impossible to get at the moment, she was going to suck it up and do something she really didn’t want to do—she was going to ask Langley to sign off on it instead.

  Taking a deep breath, she rapped smartly on his door. That was a confident knock. That was a knock that said, “I mean business.”

  “Come in,” he called.

  As always, his office was spotless, without a sign of his work anywhere. In fact, the place looked even more like something out of a movie. The thick Persian rug on the floor was new, as was the framed abstract painting on the wall behind Langley’s desk. While he still didn’t have a
computer that looked capable of producing any serious scientific work, his laptop was new—tiny, sleek, and silver. Music was playing, something weird and instrumental, piped in from invisible speakers he must have recently had installed. There was a new brass nameplate on the edge of his desk. “Department Chair, Dr. William Langley.” He certainly seemed to be settling in for the duration. Presumptuous jerk.

  “Hi, Professor Langley. Can I have a minute?”

  “What can I do for you, Miss Romano?”

  She wasn’t “Olivia” anymore, she was Miss Romano? Fine. She’d always hated the way he said her name anyway. “I’d like to talk to you about the situation with Dr. Finch.”

  He frowned slightly, his eyes still on his laptop. “Very unfortunate. Any update from her family?”

  “Andy—that’s her son—said she’s still recovering.”

  “Terrible,” he said, not sounding at all sorry.

  “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been doing the best I can to move the research forward without her, but there’s only so much I can do with our current resources. It was our plan to apply for time on Hubble, but she didn’t get a chance to complete the request before her heart attack.”

  “That’s too bad.” He still hadn’t lifted his eyes from his laptop screen. Livie was about to reach out and slam the damned thing shut. But she still needed something from this useless asshole, as much as she hated it.

  “Well, I’ve gone ahead and completed the application.”

  That did get his attention. His eyes snapped up to hers. “That’s very industrious of you.”

  “I spoke to someone at NASA’s outreach program for guidance. They’ve been very helpful. The problem is, I need Janet’s signature on the application before I can submit it.”

  “That is a problem.”

  Now she was to the tough part. She absolutely hated asking this man for anything, but she had no choice if she wanted to keep working. And right now, she wanted—no, she needed—to keep working. “I was hoping you could sign off for her.”

  Langley frowned and leaned back in his chair, weaving his fingers together. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  Disappointment surged through her, but she wasn’t backing down yet. This was too important. “Why not?”

  “It’s university policy, I’m afraid. No one other than the head of the research project may sign off on work related to that project.”

  “Not even the acting head of the department?”

  “No, not even the head of the department.” He left off the “acting” in his job description. That was no mistake. “It has to do with keeping the researchers accountable every step of the way. I’m sure you understand. If Finch had listed you as a research partner, it might be different. But as it is, you’re just one of her students.”

  She wasn’t just any student. She was Janet’s star student. He was trying to put her in her place, to rub her nose in her powerlessness. Fury bubbled up in her chest. White-hot, impotent fury. Because no matter how much of a jerk Langley was, in this one way, he was right. She was powerless.

  “What if I submit the request on my own? Not as part of Janet’s research?”

  “Without a comprehensive research proposal, it’s doubtful a graduate student would get approved for a spot on Hubble. And since you can’t use Finch’s work, I’m afraid you don’t have enough on your own to justify the spot.”

  He smiled then, a thin, slightly smug smile, as he leaned back in his chair. Livie clenched her back teeth together so hard it hurt. He could sign off on her application if he wanted to, she knew it. The bastard was perfectly willing to bend the rules when he wanted Janet to pay for his equipment with her grant money, but suddenly he was all about the rules if it meant screwing her over.

  “You’re telling me I can’t move forward until Janet is back?”

  He made a show of frowning, like he was actually sympathetic with her plight. “You’re a bright student, Miss Romano. One of our best. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  The best. She was the department’s best student and he knew it. Maybe she’d been too self-effacing in the past to admit that, but not anymore. She knew how good she was. Langley had all but admitted it himself when he tried to get her to abandon Janet’s research for his.

  In a flash, it all became so clear. It had nothing to do with rules, or even Janet, really. This was about her. She’d turned him down and now he was punishing her. He was enjoying watching her PhD go down in flames, almost as much as he was enjoying his power over the whole department. For once, he was the king around here, and he was loving the hell out of it.

  “I’m sure I will,” Livie bit out from between clenched teeth.

  “Good luck, Miss Romano. And give Professor Finch’s family my best when you speak to them again.”

  He could pick up the phone and call them himself, but she knew he wouldn’t. “Sure. Thanks for your time.”

  “My door is always open for you,” he said magnanimously as she stood.

  She had no intention of ever willingly stepping foot in his office again. Never in her life had she had an urge to commit physical violence. Maybe it was her frustration at this injustice. Maybe it was leftover anger and grief over Nick. But right now she wanted to plant her fist square in Langley’s face. The urge was so strong that she was practically shaking with it. But her position in this department was precarious and getting worse by the day. Violence—even a well-earned display of temper—wouldn’t help, and would only make things worse for her.

  Even though it felt like swallowing glass, she smiled at Langley as she left his office.

  She was still in a daze as she walked down the hall.

  Everything was for nothing. Months of working with Nick on a program that they’d never be able to use, for research that was never going to happen. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never met him, if none of this had ever happened, if this was how it was going to turn out.

  No. As terrible as she felt—and if she allowed herself to think about him for even a second, the grief punched her so hard she could barely breathe—but she still couldn’t regret having met him, having loved him. He’d changed her life. Yes, in an awful way, by breaking her heart. But also in a million good ways. Maybe Teresa was right, and one day she’d be able to look back without pain and appreciate that.

  She was barely aware of what she did as she entered the departmental office and made her way to her mail cubby.

  “Hi, Livie,” Anita called from behind her desk in the corner.

  “Hi, Anita.”

  Michiko was riffling through a stack of flyers by her mail cubby. She paused, looking up at Livie. “Hey, you okay? You look like your dog died.”

  Spudge had not died this week. That was about the only piece of good news Livie could come up with at present.

  “Um, it’s been kind of a crappy week.”

  Michiko’s lips quirked to the side as she considered that. “Is it school or life? Or should I not ask?”

  Once, Livie would have made some polite demurral and escaped. She was not one to share herself with strangers. But that was once, and she wasn’t the same as she used to be. Besides, Michiko wasn’t exactly a stranger, was she?

  “Both. But right now, school is the major problem. Langley won’t sign off on my application for time on Hubble. Without that, Janet’s research is dead in the water. And so am I.”

  “Why won’t he sign off on it? I mean, I know she’s supposed to, but under the circumstances, I’m sure he could make an exception.”

  Livie’s anger flared anew. “He could. I know he could. But he won’t, because he’s an asshole and he’s punishing me because I won’t work on his stupid research.”

  Michiko blinked in shock at her sudden outburst. Anita chuckled.

  Livie squeezed her eyes shut as she rubbed a hand across he
r forehead. “Sorry, you guys. It’s been a bad few days.”

  “That’s okay. You really think this is personal? That Langley has it out for you?”

  “He’s got it out for me and Janet.”

  “Professor Finch? Why?”

  A few months ago, Livie never would have shared what she’d heard between Janet and Langley. There would have been no one to tell, for one. And she would have felt obligated to protect their privacy, to not insert herself in a conflict that didn’t involve her. But that was a few months ago. It clearly involved her now, and it wasn’t right. Fuck Langley’s privacy. Why should she keep his secrets?

  She told Michiko the gist of the fight she’d walked in on the day Janet collapsed.

  “Daaamn,” Michiko said when she’d finished. “I knew I didn’t trust that son of a bitch.”

  “I never liked him,” Anita chimed in. “Never trust a man who wears loafers without socks in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s just a departmental rivalry,” Livie said. “I’m caught up in the middle of it.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Michiko said, casting a glance over her shoulder at Anita.

  Livie looked between the two of them. “What are you talking about?”

  Anita made a huge show of turning her attention to her computer monitor. “I’m busy going over this office supply request. I’m sure I’d never notice if that master key on the edge of my desk disappeared for a few minutes.”

  Livie watched, wide-eyed, as Michiko scampered across the room and snatched the key off Anita’s desk.

  “Come with me.” Michiko grabbed her by the elbow and steered her out of the office.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Peter Hockman’s office.”

  “Why the hell are we going there?” In the last twenty-four hours, Livie seemed to have lost both her filter and her aversion to cursing. She didn’t miss either one.

  They’d reached the hallway that led to Peter’s office. It also led to the men’s room, so Michiko hung back, watching casually from the corner until a freshman kid carrying a huge backpack wandered out of the men’s room and around the corner.