Love and the Laws of Motion

by Amanda Weaver

  He chuckled softly.

  She looked over at him. “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking... I mean, how dangerous is this stuff Finch is looking for anyway? Like, are we going to spend all this time teaching Hubble how to see it and the second it does, it blasts Hubble out of the sky? Like getting hit by a car you didn’t see coming around a blind corner.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. At least, we don’t think it does.” Livie started to laugh, but then she froze and her eyes went wide.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She threw her hands up and spun away, pacing more urgently. “It’s like a car crash. It’s the...impact...the damage...you can reconstruct what happened...”

  “Livie?”

  “Shhh!” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m almost there.”

  “Where?” What had he said? What was she trying to figure out?

  “That’s it!” She grabbed her laptop at the foot of the bed and scrambled up to sit next to him, shoving aside the papers and clothes littering the bedspread to make space for herself. She began rapidly clicking through files on her hard drive, looking for something. “It’s the mirror shift! I am such an idiot. I’ve been combing through these numbers for months and—”

  “The what?”

  Livie paused long enough to look at him. “It’s the observation that sparked Janet’s entire theory. While she was examining past Hubble imaging of primordial black holes, she noticed some instances of minute red shifts that perfectly mirrored minute blue shifts.”

  A blindingly complex program opened up on her laptop. He wasn’t even sure what program she was running. It wasn’t anything he’d seen before.

  “And?”

  “If we’re right, and those are streams of particles and anti-particles coming untethered from the primordial black hole that birthed them as it died, then this mirrored red and blue shift is the evidence of their existence.”

  “Like one went one way and one went the other the second there was nothing holding them in the same place?”

  Her face lit up. “Yes! And they left a trail behind as the black hole winked out. That is what we’re going to look at. The mirror shift.”

  “The particles speak the language we’re looking for.”

  “Exactly!” Her eyes were sparkling with the thrill of her revelation. He hadn’t thought dark eyes could sparkle, but that was before he saw hers, dancing with delight as she teased apart the mysteries of the universe. A peachy flush suffused her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath as her lightning-fast mind put the pieces together. She was—in a word—stunning.

  Which was not at all a helpful thought when they were in the middle of a potential breakthrough.

  He cleared his throat. “How are we going to observe these particles?”

  “We don’t need to!” She was practically crowing in triumph. “Because Hubble already has, but it didn’t know it. It’s all in the archives. They go back to nineteen ninety.”

  “Are you kidding? You have a record of everything Hubble’s ever observed?”

  “Well, MAST does.” She bit her lip as she opened up a browser window and navigated to a website.

  “What’s MAST?”

  “It’s a searchable archive of Hubble’s observations. Now I’ll have to figure out some search parameters, something to narrow the field of what we’re going through.”

  “You’re going to have to explain this to me, Liv, because I have no idea what any of that says.”

  “You don’t need to understand, because I do. The point is, if I can figure out how to search for this data and analyze it, how to reverse engineer it, I think we’ll find enough mirror shifts, or even partial ones, to reconstruct the profile and hopefully point us in the right direction.”

  “At least enough to let us build its language.” Finally, he’d managed to grasp the tail end of what she was talking about.

  She flashed a dazzling smile over her shoulder. “Exactly.”

  That smile was potent. It was probably a good thing she didn’t unleash it too often. Livie could slay the world with that smile if she tried.

  The room suddenly felt too small and too warm, and Livie felt entirely too close. Settle the fuck down, DeSantis.

  Or maybe the room really was too warm, because a moment later, Livie, still scanning Finch’s data and muttering to herself, absently stripped off the oversized flannel shirt she’d been wearing and tossed it to the floor.

  His mouth abruptly went dry. She was still dressed. Underneath, she wore a thin white tank. A tight one. But holy Jesus, her breasts.

  How had he not noticed those before now? Larger than he ever would have guessed under those clothes—high and full and lush and...

  He blinked. He swallowed hard. Tried to look away, then couldn’t.

  “Um...” He stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. “Okay, what am I looking at here?”

  “It’s essentially a search function, but I’ll have to give it coordinates of something we already know first. Janet’s documented every mirror shift she’s observed, so I can start there.”

  He lost every single word she said after that as she lifted her bare arms, twisted that long, thick fall of hair into a knot, fashioned it into a sloppy bun on the top of her head, and speared it with a pen. Long tendrils slipped free, floating around her face, brushing the back of her bare neck. Her surprisingly swanlike neck. And her pale, slim, shoulders, and the feminine curve of her back, and that tiny waist...

  And he was staring again.

  She shifted, moving his laptop to the side and setting hers in its place, so he could see the document she had open. Which was pointless at the moment, as he’d lost the ability to do math, along with his power of speech. “This is the location on the sky, the exposure time, the wavelength—”

  He stopped listening the second she leaned into him, pointing at the columns of numbers on the screen. The outside curve of her left breast was nearly touching his biceps. His eyes flicked to the side and down, watching that gorgeous swell, wondering, in spite of himself, what they looked like underneath that tight tank top and insubstantial bra. What color were her nipples? Were they big and pointed or small and tight? Would he be able to see them, barely poking through the long curtain of her hair, as she rode his dick?

  Shit.

  A powerful urge rose up inside him. He wanted to reach for her. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her hard. He wanted to roll that newly discovered lush body under his and rip off every shred of her clothing until he could touch every part of her.

  “And this, this is the real key. If we can extrapolate all of that and compare it to this one, we should get some idea of what we’re after.” She pointed again, and for a brief, white-hot moment, he felt it, the press of her breast against his arm.

  Christ. Focus, DeSantis. She’s just a girl in a tank top and you’re about to spring a boner like a horny thirteen-year-old.

  Ugh, too late. The boner was a firm reality—and getting firmer by the second.

  “Here, I’m going to highlight this column so it’s easier to see.”

  She leaned across his body to reach the keyboard. He tried to keep his eyes up, he really did. But it was a losing battle. Against his will, his eyes drifted down and...cleavage. A deep shadow of perfect cleavage that looked pearly and soft and...

  Nick held absolutely still, because if he moved at all, she might notice the embarrassing hard-on he’d developed basically right under her nose. Or maybe not. She couldn’t see past her spreadsheet right now. She’d be completely oblivious unless he put her hand directly on it.

  Shit. Wrong thing to imagine at this particular moment.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking—” She turned her head to look at him and trailed off. His eyes, which had been fixed on a patch of silky smo
oth skin on her neck, right behind her ear, snapped up to hers.

  “What?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, sure. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem all here tonight.”

  “Nothing. I’m just thinking about some things.” Your breasts, your legs, your ass.

  Livie’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Right. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of stuff on your mind right now. Poppy and everything.”

  Poppy? Poppy who? Right now, he could barely recall what she looked like. But he said nothing as Livie dragged her laptop across the bed. “Let’s pick this up tomorrow.”

  “No, you don’t need to go.” Although maybe it was for the best if she did. If she stayed, he might end up acting on this sudden rush of lust, and that would be a recipe for disaster.

  “I’ve got some emails I have to send for school anyway. I got distracted by all this and forgot.”

  “Hey, it’s pretty exciting, right?”

  She looked up at him with cautious eyes. “What is?”

  “This. You might have cracked the code, Livie.”

  “We have a long way to go before we know if that’s the case.”

  “Nah, you did it. I’m sure of it.” Like the cleavage wasn’t deadly enough, she had that brilliant brain of hers, too. No wonder he was such a mess right now.

  She climbed off his bed. “Thanks. We’ll see, I guess.”

  His eyes had drifted down to her ass as she made her way to the door, but they snapped back to hers when she turned to look back at him. “Good night, Nick.”

  Licking his lips, he forced himself to look her straight in the eye. Not at her bare arms, or that long graceful neck, not at the curve of her ass, and definitely not at her spectacular breasts. “Good night, Livie.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Livie clambered up off her knees, a stack of old catalogs in one hand and a phone charger in the other, all of it unearthed from under the coffee table. She’d been wondering what had happened to that charger.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Letting out a startled yelp, she spun around. Nick was standing in the entryway, looking in at the unusually tidy living room suspiciously. Her pulse fluttered unsteadily at the sight of him. She’d been bad enough before, but ever since that night—that kiss—it was like a switch had been flipped in her head and no matter what she did, she couldn’t flip it back off.

  Something had been awakened in her when Nick had kissed her, something new and eager and yearning. Okay, it was hormones, and what she was yearning for was sex, she knew that, but knowing didn’t make the stupid hormones go back to sleep. Every time she looked at him, she flashed back to the feel of his mouth on hers, his body pressing hers into the door, imagining what else might have happened if he hadn’t gotten spooked...

  Oh hell, she was doing it again.

  Ducking her head to let her hair slide forward, she turned away. “Um, Dad’s bringing someone to dinner tonight. We’re straightening up.”

  Jess passed through the room with an armload of clean laundry, heading for the stairs. “He’s bringing his girlfriend to dinner. Hi, Nick.”

  “Hi, Jess.” He came a little closer, but stopped right inside the living room, eyeing the freshly fluffed throw pillows. “John’s got a girlfriend? I’ve never met her.”

  “Neither have we. Well, Gemma has, but not as his girlfriend.”

  “How long have they been going out?”

  “Um, since last December? But he only told us in May.” That had been an awkward conversation, Dad sitting them down for a serious talk, ready to ease them into the subject, when all three of them had known about Teresa for months.

  Dad’s announcement that he’d like them all to get to know each other better was a clear signal that this was serious—Teresa was sticking around. Livie had known that, of course, but knowing was different than confronting it face-to-face. And that was turning out to be harder than she expected. A lot harder.

  “John was sneaking around with someone? Who knew? John Romano’s a horndog.”

  “That’s my father you’re talking about.”

  He sobered at once. “Sorry, bad joke. How are you doing?”

  She glanced around the living room. She’d done the dusting and run the vacuum. Fresh flowers would have been nice, but there wasn’t time to run up to the Kims’ green grocery and buy some. “I’ve got to get the good place mats out of the hutch and set the table, but—”

  “No, Liv, I meant, are you nervous?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t tell what I’m feeling. I’m either nervous or I have the stomach flu.”

  “Well, let’s hope for everyone’s sake that it’s the former. I’ll get out of the way so you can finish setting up—”

  The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realized they were in her head. “Do you want to stay?” Suddenly, she desperately wanted him there. He wasn’t one of her sisters or cousins, or any other family member. He was her person, her friend. Having him in her corner tonight would make her feel a lot more secure. And someone outside the family being here meant the conversation couldn’t wander into weird, uncomfortable, personal places.

  Nick froze. “Stay for dinner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It seems like a family thing.”

  “You’re practically family,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, you do live here.”

  He reached up to run a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I have a thing I gotta do tonight.”

  “A thing?”

  “A meeting. With a new client.”

  “Oh. Right. Sure.” He was lying. She could see the terror in his eyes from across the room. He was fine hanging out at the bar with her dad and her sister, or chatting with Jess over coffee in the morning. He was okay sitting up with her, watching TV in the middle of the night until one of them got tired enough to sleep. But kissing her had freaked him out and sent him fleeing. And being included in an actual family event practically had him chewing off his own foot to free himself.

  As if she needed any more reminders that Nick wasn’t meant for her. Whatever had happened with his family had really done a number on him, and he was flat-out refusing to become any more entangled with the Romanos—with her—than absolutely necessary. Well, she knew his time here had an expiration date. He was not the kind to stick around. And she wasn’t the kind to leave.

  “No problem,” she said, forcing herself to sound light and unconcerned. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

  He stood a moment longer in the doorway, seemingly torn about staying or going. Then he lifted a hand and waved. “Yep. See you around, Liv.”

  She held on to her fake smile until she heard the door close behind him and she was certain he was gone. Then she straightened her shoulders and prepared to face the night without him.

  * * *

  “They’re here.” Gemma turned from the stove, where dinner was nearing completion, at the rattle of the front door lock. Livie and Jess exchanged a brief glance as Spudge lumbered out to greet their father and Teresa.

  Jess pushed up from the kitchen table. “We should go say hello. Come on, Alex.”

  Alex, who’d been loitering by the back door trying to look invisible, followed Jess out of the room.

  Teresa, to the best of Livie’s knowledge, had never been over to their house. They’d been dating openly since the summer, but Dad always went to her place. This definitely felt like the beginning of some new era in the Romano family, and while intellectually, Livie was okay with that, emotionally, she was still struggling, for reasons she couldn’t precisely put a name to.

  When she reached the living room, Dad was shutting the door and Gemma was nervously greeting Teresa. Gemma knew her already, since Teresa sometimes came
into the bar. That was how she and Dad had reconnected, years after they’d gone to high school together.

  John Romano moved to Teresa’s side and set his hand on the small of her back. Such a tiny gesture, yet it jarred Livie to her bones. This was real. They were together. As long as she hadn’t met Teresa—as long as she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes—it hadn’t seemed quite real. But now she was here in their house, and her father was gazing down at her with that weird expression on his face that she’d never seen before and this was real.

  To Livie at that moment, it didn’t much matter what Teresa was like, or how this dinner would go. She only wished she could turn back time, to scramble away from this edge, because now that they were going over it, everything would change. The last thirteen years of their family life would end, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what the future would look like.

  “Teresa, you know Gemma, of course. These are my other daughters, Jessica and Olivia. And this is Jess’s fiancé, Alex.”

  Teresa turned to Jess and Livie, standing side by side. She was pretty. Not as pretty as their mother had been, but Angela Romano was frozen in time at thirty-five. Still, Teresa was attractive—with a small, delicate build and fine features. Her hair was blond, which for some reason surprised Livie. Mom had had the same dark brown hair and eyes as her three daughters. Teresa looked different, not at all who she’d have imagined Dad with.

  Jess, always the most socially sophisticated, was naturally the first one to greet her.

  “Hi, Teresa. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “It’s great to finally meet you girls. John talks about you all the time.”

  John. That was his name, of course, but there was something intimate about the way Teresa said it, the way she casually referred to all these private conversations she had with their father.

  Alex, ever the perfect, charming one, was the next to greet her. “Welcome, Teresa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sounded like he was greeting the British ambassador.