She hesitated, biting her bottom lip, but then nodded. “I haven’t been in a hospital since my mom died,” she said at last.
He’d noticed, of course, the absence of her mother, but he hadn’t wanted to pry. John Romano was a nice guy, and he didn’t want to go asking the guy about his wife if the story was an abandonment or an ugly divorce. Now that he knew, it made a kind of sense. For all their cheerful, loving connection, something felt missing in the Romano house, like they were all actively working around a gaping hole in the middle of the room.
“I’m sorry, Livie. How old were you?”
“Eleven. It’s been fourteen years. It’s ridiculous that I still have this...” She shook her hands in frustration. “This stupid, irrational thing. I didn’t even realize I couldn’t do it until I had to do it. Then I pictured it...the lights, the beeps, the smell...and I froze.”
“Hey, it’s okay. Everybody’s got stuff that gets to them.”
“Why? Why do I still get so freaked out? I mean, I know she’s gone. I know I’m not going to walk around the corner and see—” She stopped, fighting back tears. “What am I afraid of, if it’s not that?”
Shit, she was going to cry. He’d never seen Livie cry before. He leaned in, until his shoulder touched hers. After a second of hesitation, she leaned back. “Human beings are weird, illogical machines. Computers I get. But people... We have all these funny twists and turns. Blind alleys. Malware that acts in random ways.”
“Huh.” With a sniff, she swiped at her eyes. “Malware. That’s one way to think of it.”
“Maybe, if it helps, think of it like a bad line of coding.”
“How do I rewrite the code?” Because for Livie, every problem had a solution if you tried hard enough. Next she’d be doing her dissertation on that.
“Hell if I know. But hey, so you’re carrying around a little bad coding. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”
“Do you have some bad coding?”
Her question set off a well-worn alarm in his head. He was more than aware of his own malware, but he preferred to go through life pretending that it didn’t exist. “Sure, I do. I mean, I haven’t talked to my family since I was eighteen. Something’s got to be fucked up with me, right?”
But Livie was watching him with those unsmiling Bambi eyes, and she wasn’t letting him off the hook that easy. “That’s really sad, Nick.”
There he went again, baring his soul to Livie in ways he never did with anyone else. Or maybe she could just see it, whether he’d meant to bare it or not. “It is what it is,” he said, maybe a little too shortly. “My point is, everybody’s got something, right?”
“I guess.”
She was staring into the middle distance, doing her loud thinking again. “Want to tell me what happened with your mom?”
After a long pause, she dropped her eyes to her hands, picking at her thumbnail. “She had pancreatic cancer. It happened really fast. There were—” She cleared her throat, blinked, and went on. “There were other issues, a fight with her insurance company and stuff. But yeah, she got sick and just kept getting sicker. I guess I should have known what was coming, but I didn’t. Near the end, Dad would bring us to the hospital every day to see her, and every day she looked worse, she was weaker. That last day, she was gray. There’s no other way to describe it. Like all that was left of her was a worn-out shell. The living, breathing part had been all used up. Turns out I was right. She died that night. Janet looked the same way today.”
“Hey.” He reached for her, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “That doesn’t mean Finch’s going to die. I told you, humans are complicated machines. They can surprise you all the time.”
“I know. But I like her, Nick. She’s only my professor, but I really like her.”
“Me, too.”
He leaned back on the sofa, bringing her with him, her head finding its way to his shoulder. Her hair brushed his chin, and he could smell it, a faint floral smell he wouldn’t have expected from Livie. Not that he’d given much thought to what Livie smelled like. But he liked it. He liked her. He liked her fearsome intellect and her surprisingly tender heart. He liked her loyalty. He liked that she didn’t try to hide who she was or apologize for it. He hadn’t met anybody in a long time—most certainly not in real life—who he respected as much as her. He found himself almost embarrassingly grateful for her friendship, and he hoped—prayed, really—that he wouldn’t do anything to fuck it up. Because he had a pretty good track record of fucking things up with people he cared about.
They sat together in silence for a while, and it was peaceful. A sort of easy, comforting closeness he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid. He hadn’t been lying. He was definitely running some fucked-up malware in his head. The difference was, Livie’s wasn’t her fault. It was a product of a tragedy no little kid should have to face. His? It was all of his own making.
* * *
Half an hour later, Gemma Romano burst through the waiting room door and made a beeline for her sister. “Sorry, my phone was under the bar. I just got your text. How is she?”
Nick disentangled himself from Livie as she got to her feet. “We don’t know yet. She’s still in surgery.”
Gemma took a step closer and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “You doing okay? You haven’t been back here since—”
Livie cut her off. “I’m fine. Nick came to sit with me.”
Gemma glanced over at him, something new and assessing in her eyes. Nick lifted a hand in greeting. He hadn’t stopped to think when he got Livie’s message, he just came right away. Was that weird, though? They were friends, but only for a few weeks. With something this personal, maybe he should have stayed out of it and left it to her sisters to support her.
But after today, their friendship didn’t feel all that casual. He hadn’t talked with someone the way he’d talked with Livie since...well, he wasn’t sure he ever had. Being here with her when she needed someone felt right. Which is why he decided to stay, even though Gemma was there now. He did make himself useful, though, going for coffee and bringing back snacks to sustain them while they waited.
An hour later, Janet’s son arrived. Nick was sure that’s who the windblown guy in jeans and a rumpled oxford shirt was the minute he stepped into the waiting room, his frantic eyes darting from person to person.
“Are you Livie?”
She jumped to her feet. “Andy?”
“How is she?”
“Still in surgery.” She filled him in on the last update from the nurse, which hadn’t been terribly informative.
Andy was pale with worry. “Thank you for being here, Livie. She’ll be so grateful to hear you stayed. She talks about you all the time, you know.”
“Me?”
“She said she hasn’t had a graduate student in years with your kind of potential. This black hole thing she’s doing is the most important research of her career. She’s so excited that you’re here to work on it with her.”
Livie’s eyes went glassy again. “She’s brilliant. It’s an honor to be working with her. Do you mind if I stay until she’s out of surgery?”
“Of course not.”
They all settled back in on the uncomfortable sofas, flipping through outdated gossip magazines or staring at the TV with unseeing eyes, waiting for word. It didn’t take long. Fifteen minutes later, the doctor finally came to find them. He was small and wiry with a wizened face and glasses, and still in scrubs, his face mask hanging loose around his neck.
“Mr. Finch? I’m Dr. Singh.”
They all scrambled to their feet and Andy crossed to shake the doctor’s hand. “How is my mother?”
Singh didn’t smile reassuringly, Nick noted. He didn’t smile at all. “We’ve successfully cleared the blockages in both arteries.”
“That’s
good news, right?” Livie asked.
“Yes,” the doctor replied, still grim-faced. “However, there is more damage to her heart muscle than we like to see in someone her age and in her state of health.”
“Damage?” Andy pressed. “What kind of damage?”
“The heart muscle is always damaged by an incident like this. Many factors contribute to the severity.”
“And you’re saying her damage is severe?”
“At this time, yes. But as she recovers, the damaged muscle may recover as well. It’s impossible to say how much at this point. Only time will tell.”
Livie and Andy exchanged an anxious look. Neither one looked at all relieved. Nick didn’t blame them. None of this sounded like good news.
Andy rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Can I see her?”
“She’s still in post-op, under sedation, but yes, you can see her.”
“How long until she’s awake?”
Singh hesitated in a way Nick didn’t like. “The anesthesia will have worn off completely by morning.”
That wasn’t exactly what Andy was asking.
“Are you saying she might not wake up?” Andy asked, his voice strained.
Now Singh did smile, but that only made it worse, because it was small and sad, and not the least bit encouraging. “Time will tell.”
Andy exhaled, his eyes on the floor. Then he turned to Livie. “Why don’t you guys go home? I’ll text you if there’s any change.”
“Are you sure? I hate to leave you here alone.”
“My father’s flight lands in an hour. He’ll be here soon.”
Livie still looked like she wanted to protest, but Nick laid his hand on her shoulder. Finch’s family was going to be here for her, as they should be. “Okay, but let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I will. And thank you again, Livie. I’m glad you were with her when she—”
Andy trailed off, unwilling to give voice to what they were all thinking—that Livie might have been the last person Finch would ever speak to or see.
Chapter Seventeen
Janet didn’t wake up by morning. Instead, Livie got a call from Andy. She’d had a stroke during the night, immeasurably complicating her situation. A full recovery still wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but the chances were much slimmer, and the timeline much longer, if it happened at all. Livie offered to come back to the hospital, but Andy declined. She wasn’t conscious and probably wouldn’t be for some time. He promised to call her if anything changed.
It didn’t bear thinking about, Janet not fully recovering, so Livie tried her best not to think about it. She would come back, but it might take some time.
Outside of her very personal grief over Janet, her advisor’s heart attack left Livie in a strange no-man’s-land at school. Without Janet there, she was left spinning her wheels. Janet had some data analysis she’d wanted to explore in conjunction with the big black hole project. Livie pursued that on her own, waiting and hoping that Janet would be back at work soon.
At least the work on the Hubble program wasn’t dependent on Janet’s presence. She and Nick could move ahead on that on their own, and having him in her house had turned out to be good for that, although not always in a way Livie would have preferred to work. Nick tended to work in fits and starts on whatever happened to capture his imagination, whenever it happened to occur. It wasn’t uncommon for him to bang on her door at midnight or later because he’d suddenly had an idea and he wanted her to come work on it with him. It drove her crazy, but they were making good progress so she kept her complaints to herself.
But being around him so much was wreaking havoc on her peace of mind. She’d thought maybe familiarity would help dispel her stupid crush. Living twenty-four seven with his infuriating quirks should have killed her infatuation dead. Frustratingly, it didn’t seem to be working that way. He was mercurial, sometimes hopping between five projects in an hour and sometimes closing himself away with an almost obsessive single-mindedness. He ran hot and cold, one minute happily embracing her entire family in a way sure to win her heart, the next throwing up his walls and refusing to talk about anything personal. He was, in short, everything she was not, and nothing she wanted to be. Nothing about him should have appealed to her. And yet he haunted her, and nothing she did—nothing he did—seemed to exorcize him. She was beginning to think nothing ever would.
* * *
The Lyft let them out in DUMBO in front of the building and they retrieved the flattened boxes from the trunk. It was Saturday, and nearly dark outside, the streetlights flickering on. Nick paused, staring up at the facade of the building. Two weeks after his breakup with Poppy, he’d decided to come get the rest of his stuff. Livie could see in his face that this wouldn’t be easy for him.
“Are you going to be okay?”
His smile wasn’t as reassuring as he meant it to be. “Sure. I’m fine.”
“Are you worried about running into her? Should we have called first?”
“Don’t sweat it. It’s Saturday night. She’s going to be out until three a.m. at least.” Then, taking a deep breath, he produced his keys and let them into the lobby. “Let’s go get this over with.”
Upstairs, everything looked much as it had all the other times Livie had been there. Everything was sleek and orderly, no sign that Nick had ever lived there, and no sign of his absence. Shouldn’t a place bear some imprint of the two people who’d lived in it? Shouldn’t you have been able to see signs of the life they’d been building here? The absence when one of them left?
“There’s no stuff here,” she said, without meaning to.
Nick glanced over at her as he assembled a box. “What do you mean?”
“You can’t even tell anyone lives here. There’s no stuff. How do you do that?”
“Poppy likes minimalism. She read some book about it and decided her personal shit was crowding her psychic energy or something. She hates clutter.”
Livie snorted in laughter. “You don’t, though.” It was amazing to her that someone with so few belongings could create such chaos with them. Nick was forever losing his keys, his phone...anything he owned was at risk of being sucked into his personal maelstrom of mess.
He chuckled, too. “True enough.” He stopped and looked around. “It kind of feels like I was just passing through here, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Funny,” he said, shaking his head. “The shit you see in hindsight. Anyway, that bottom shelf of books is mine. Can you pack them up while I get the rest of my clothes?”
“Sure.”
Nick grabbed a box and started toward the bedroom, but before he reached it, the door opened. The rest felt like it happened in slow motion. Poppy stepped through the door, stopping abruptly when she caught sight of Nick.
“Nick—”
Nick’s entire body went rigid. Livie could see the tension in his shoulders from across the room. His eyes flicked over Poppy briefly. “Sorry,” he bit out. “I figured you’d be out.”
“I was just leaving.” Poppy gestured toward the front door. “If you come back in ten minutes—”
“What did you say, Poppy?” A man stepped up behind Poppy, laying a hand on her waist. His body had a lanky sort of elegance to it, and his narrow black pants and gold printed silk shirt made him resemble a guy in a cologne commercial. His choppy blond hair was artfully styled to one side, raking across his forehead. The accent sounded European, but Livie couldn’t place it.
Poppy froze. Nick’s gaze raked over the newcomer. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together.
“Hey, Klaus.” His voice was low, cold, and hard as steel. Livie had never heard him sound that way before. Klaus? The name rang a bell, and a moment later it came back to her. The party Poppy had been nagging him about—Klaus
, the Eurotrash poser.
Klaus’s eyes flicked over Nick in barely concealed disdain. “Hello, again, Nick.”
“Nick—” Poppy began, but Nick cut her off.
“It’s none of my fucking business. None of this is any of my fucking business. Not anymore.”
Poppy took one step toward him. “Klaus was here to—”
“I said it’s none of my fucking business, Poppy!” His shout bounced off the glass walls, echoing in the sparsely furnished room. Poppy jumped. Livie flinched. Klaus barely reacted at all.
She’d never seen Nick this angry. “Who you fuck is none of my business. Although I suppose it might be my business, depending on when you started fucking him. Right, Klaus?”
Klaus shrugged one elegant shoulder, smirking slightly. Poppy went pale. Oh, God, Poppy had been cheating on him with this Klaus person. Livie had been frozen, mortified to be caught in the middle of their confrontation once again. Now, as much as she didn’t want to, she forced herself to move, crossing to Nick and touching his arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Nick—” Poppy tried again, but he threw up a hand to silence her.
“Save it, Poppy. There’s not a damned thing you could say to me right now that I have any interest in hearing.”
He turned on his heel and stormed out the front door. As she hurried after him, Livie glanced over her shoulder at Poppy and Klaus. Despite what had gone down, despite what she’d done to him, Poppy looked genuinely stricken, as if she hadn’t realized the consequences of her actions until everything collided and blew up in her face. Well, Livie hoped she felt sufficiently miserable. She deserved it for what she’d done to Nick.
She rode down in the elevator with Nick in total silence. He stared at the brushed steel elevator door like he was about to burn a hole in it. That muscle in his jaw was still twitching. All of his usual irrepressible energy seemed to have converted to explosives being held under extreme pressure, as if at any moment a spark would cause him to go up in flames.
Love and the Laws of Motion Page 11