The Soulmate Equation (17 page)

Dotty nodded, squeezing Johan's arm. “We've been married since 1958. Sixty-three years.”

Jess wasn't an emotional person by nature; she adored her daughter and grandparents to the stars and back, but she wasn't one to cry at commercials and was the only person in her life who could listen to Adele's “Someone Like You” without weeping. But the moment caught her like a hook, and she felt a swell of emotion rise, salty, in her throat.

Through this deep, sweeping emotional moment—as she struggled to balance reverence and enthusiasm—Jess noticed Johan's
outfit. He was wearing a blazer and dress pants, but beneath the coat was a T-shirt, not a dress shirt. On it was a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon, and beneath it the words
FERROUS WHEEL
.

“I realize this is a fancy affair, but I wore it for River,” Johan said, noticing her amusement. “He loves terrible science puns.”

“Does he?” Jess asked, looking at the man in question.

Mr. Fuchs cleared his throat, raising a finger. “What did Gregor Mendel say when he discovered genetics?” He waited a beat and then sang, “Whoopea!”

It was corny, but his delivery was fantastic. Besides, he might have been the smallest, sweetest old man Jess had ever seen. She would laugh at any joke he told for the rest of time.

“Very clever,” River agreed, eyes twinkling. “What is the fastest way to determine the sex of a chromosome?” he asked. “Pull down its genes.”

Everyone groaned.

“Potassium and oxygen went on a date,” Johan said, grinning as their game started rolling. “It went OK.”

Dotty groaned just as Jess said, “Okay, that one is cute.”

“I wish I was adenine,” River said, and winked down at her. “Then I could get paired up with U.”

Everyone
Awww
-ed audibly, and then three pairs of eyes turned to Jess with anticipation. After a beat, it sank in: she was up to bat. “Um,” she said, digging around the dusty reaches of her brain for a science joke. “Okay, anyone know any good jokes about sodium?” She scanned their faces, grinning. “Or Na?”

Mr. and Mrs. Fuchs looked at each other. “I don't think I do,” Dotty said, frowning. “Do you know any, darling?”

“No, it's—” Jess stammered.

“I don't,” Johan said. “Well, let's see now. That is a rather specific request. Sodium. Sodium jokes…”

“No,” she said, “the joke is—” She gave up as they continued to confer, mumbling to each other.

“Sorry, dear,” Dotty said. “No sodium jokes, but I am so delighted to meet you.” She smiled up at River. “It's good to see you, darling. You take care of her, okay?”

“I will.” He bent, kissing her cheek again. Jess and River watched them walk off together, holding hands.

Silence settled over the two of them, and Jess laughed out a quiet “Wow.”

“Only the best jokes require explanation immediately afterward,” he said, eyes dancing at her.

“They do call me the Party Cooler.”

“Do they?” he asked.

“If they don't, they should.” She grinned up at him. “They were freaking adorable.”

“Aren't they? They are the nicest people, too.”

“Lucky for them they were already married when they found out they were a Diamond Match.”

He nodded, eyes softening. “Takes some pressure off, I'd imagine.”

Jess would look away, but she couldn't. Her feelings weren't growing in a measured, linear way. In the past hour they'd expanded
exponentially, like a wave inside her. It was the way she imagined a tsunami might approach San Diego: calm ocean surface until a wall was suddenly crashing over the shore. She stared at him, and all she could think about was how much she wanted him to touch her.

A clinking rose in the room; it was quiet and unobtrusive at first but built into a clattering of silver on crystal all around them. Jess looked around, confused. Awareness sank in, but River was still wearing an expression of frank confusion.

“Oh shit,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked frantically as everyone began to chant, “
Kiss, kiss, kiss.
”

River's eyes widened, and Jess witnessed the moment comprehension landed. “Oh, God.”

“It's okay.” She put a warm smile on her face and turned to face him. They had an audience. River was shy and Jess was deeply private, and this was a nightmare! But no big deal! Soulmates! As presented to this room full of investors, Jess and River kissed, like,
all the time
.

He mirrored her grin, but Jess hoped hers was way more convincing. “We should have anticipated this,” he gritted out.

“Well, we didn't,” she whispered, running a coy hand down his chest. The feeling was a bit like being submerged in warm champagne. “We don't have to if you don't want.”

“No, we can,” he said immediately, leaning in and toying intimately with a strand of her hair. “I mean, unless you don't want to?”

His breath smelled like mint and whiskey. Frankly, Jess wanted to.

River looked at her in question as the clattering intensified. But then his eyes flickered away nervously.

“Hey. It's just me.”

His brow relaxed, and he nodded, breath trembling. “Okay.”

River's eyes dipped to her mouth.

Are we doing this?

He stepped to her—

I guess we're doing this.

—bending, sliding one hand up her neck to cup her jaw and leaving a trail of carbonated heat on her skin. He leaned in—she stopped breathing—and his mouth came over hers.

Together, they exhaled in relief, and everything fell away: sound, light, other people. She felt the sag in him, too, the confirmation that they were right to think it would feel this good. One short kiss, and then a longer one, just his mouth covering hers and then coming back to taste again. Just to see.

A valiant collection of neurons in her brain screamed a reminder that fifty pairs of eyes were on them right that second, but even that awareness didn't keep her from reaching for the lapels of his coat, pulling him flush up against her.

Jess swallowed a moan when his other arm came around her waist, his fingers spreading wide below her ribs. It felt so good it sent a fevered ache straight from her mouth to her navel, corkscrewing through her. River veered slightly away, and Jess expected the kiss to close off, it probably
should
, but she realized he was only shifting his footing, coming at her from a new angle, sending his fingers into her hair.

She let out the smallest sound, a helpless moan she thought
only he could hear, but it seemed to shove him into awareness, and he pulled away, remaining only an inch or two from her face.

Breathless, they stared at each other with wild, shocked eyes. It was probably only a few seconds, but the kiss shifted the trajectory of them, immediately. She wanted more, and she could see in his eyes that he did, too. Jess didn't question for a single second that the physical attraction was mutual.

She startled as the entire room broke into sound and commotion. She looked away for a beat, and then back to River. His attention, it seemed, had remained entirely fixed on her mouth.

“I think we just made your company a lot of money,” she mumbled, grinning as she carefully pressed her fingertips to her tingling lips.

He didn't crack a smile. Jess wasn't sure he'd even heard her.

“I'd suspect most people comment on your eyes,” he said quietly, running a fingertip across her collarbone. “That startling, bright blue.”

Surely he could feel her heart scaling her windpipe. He didn't seem to remember there was anyone else in the room.

“But I prefer your mouth.”

“You do?” Jess managed.

“I do,” he said, and bent, kissing her forehead. “You don't give those smiles away for free.”

T
HANKS TO A
friend of a friend of a friend, Jess met with a potential new client on Tuesday. She didn't really have room in her schedule for anyone new—
who knew fake dating would be such a time suck?—
but the gravy train would be over when GeneticAlly went public in May, and Jess didn't intend to be caught with her proverbial pants down when it happened.

Kenneth Marshall ran a small engineering firm in Wyoming and was in town to see clients of his own. They agreed to meet for lunch at his hotel, which had the added bonus of overlooking the convention center and the San Diego Bay. Unfortunately, it also had views of Shelter Island and the Grubers' high-rise condo, which meant that it took monumental effort for Jess to focus on the conversation about probability study and regression analysis and
not
the searing kiss from the cocktail party.

How did someone learn to kiss like that? Did River take a class? Watch YouTube videos, like when Jess learned how to fix the toilet fill valve? She'd lain in bed last night thinking about his mouth and
the urging press of his fingers to her jaw, about the sobering reality that Jess had had actual sex that left her less satisfied than River's kiss.

Sex with River might actually end her.

She was all too happy when the meeting with Kenneth wrapped up, and even happier when he offered a deposit to hold his place on her schedule until late spring. But instead of immediately heading toward the valet, she walked out to the back patio of the hotel to take in the view. Seagulls soared overhead and waves gently rocked the boats docked at the marina. Snapping a photo, she sent a quick text to Fizzy, who was in LA meeting with her agent.

Jess had lived in California her entire life but rarely made it to the ocean. It seemed like too much preparation—the sand, the crowds, finding parking—but once she was there, she'd invariably wonder why she didn't do it more often.

Kind of like sex.

Jess thought of the kiss again, the way River had angled his head to capture her mouth more deeply, how he'd held his breath, then let out a shaking exhale when they pulled apart. She wondered whether it would have been hard to stop if they'd been alone. She wondered whether he fucked like he kissed.

Her phone rang in her hand, startling her. She expected to see Fizzy's face filling the screen, but instead there were three words:
SCRIPPS MERCY HOSPITAL
.

“Hello?” Jess said in a rush, eyes raking over the horizon as her heart began to thump
Juno, Juno, Juno
against her breastbone.

“May I speak to Jessica Davis?” a woman asked. In the
background, Jess heard voices, an elevator ding, phones ringing, and the distant murmur of an intercom.

“This is Jessica.” Her pulse pounded her daughter's name.

“This is Scripps Mercy Hospital. We have a Joanne Davis here. Your grandfather, Ronald, is asking for you. Please come as soon as possible.”

JESS DIDN'T REMEMBER
the wait at the valet or the drive to the hospital, the walk from the parking lot or talking to anyone at the front desk, but she would never forget the sight of Nana in the hospital bed. Jess stood rooted in the doorway, motionless as machines hummed and beeped around Nana, and Pops hovered at his wife's side, holding her hand. Both of Nana's legs were immobilized and strapped to a splint. There was an IV in her left arm. The smell of antiseptic burned Jess's nose. A nurse scooted past her into the hallway, and she managed to step into the room.

“Nana?”

Pops turned to face her; every ounce of Nana's pain was mirrored in his expression. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I'm here,” Jess said, crossing the room to wrap an arm around him. “What happened?”

“She fell.”

“I'm fine,” Nana said through a shaky breath. “Just lost my footing.”

Pops squeezed her hand, eyes trained on her face. Jess's grandfather had always been the strongest, steadiest person she knew. But right now, he looked like a slight wind might knock him down.
“They think it's a fractured femur,” he said, “but we're waiting for the doctor. We were bowling at that new place in Kearny Mesa and she slipped.” He put a hand over his mouth. “They took the X-rays twenty minutes ago, but nobody will goddamn tell me—”

Nana winced and, if possible, Pops's face went even paler.

“Okay, okay,” Jess said, guiding him away from the bed and to a chair. “Let's have you sit down, and I'll see what's happening. Have they given her anything for pain?”

His fingers trembled as he pushed them through his thin, fluffy hair. “I think in the IV.”

“I'll be right back,” Jess said, and leaned in so Nana could see her. “Nana Jo, I'll be right back.”

Jess stopped the first nurse she saw in the hallway. “Excuse me, I was just in room 213. Can you tell me what's happening with Joanne Davis?”

“You're family?”

“I'm her granddaughter, yes.”

“We've given her some pain meds and are expecting her X-ray results any second.” The nurse pointed to a woman in blue scrubs striding down the hall toward them. “Dr. Reynolds is coming. She'll talk you through it.”

Dr. Reynolds returned with Jess to the room, where Pops had moved his chair over to the bed and resumed holding Nana's hand. Sweat beaded her brow, and it was clear that she was in pain but working valiantly to hide it.

Dr. Reynolds greeted Nana and Pops, and a new nurse took Nana's vitals. Clipping the X-ray film to a lighted board, the physi
cian explained that Nana had a subtrochanteric fracture, between the two bony protrusions of the femur.

“We'll have to operate,” she explained. “We'll put in a rod that goes down here.” Dr. Reynolds drew along the image with her fingertip. “And a screw that goes up into your hip. Yours won't be that long because your fracture is pretty high. It'll probably go to about here.” She traced a finger over the X-ray where the metal rod would end. “And then you'll have another rod that will go up through the fracture into your hip. This is stronger than your actual bone, so you'll be able to walk and get up and move around pretty quickly. But no more bowling for at least eight weeks.”

“How long will she be here?” Pops asked.

“Let's say five days if everything goes as planned and you're able to work on mobility quickly. Possibly sooner.” Dr. Reynolds shrugged. “Or longer if there are complications or we have other concerns.”

Jess's stomach dropped. She imagined Pops sleeping in the stiff hospital chair every night until Nana was discharged and knew he would be miserable. But she tried to imagine him at home while Nana was
here
, and that seemed even less likely. If he and Jess could take turns being with Nana, she might be able to convince him to eat, to rest, to take care of himself. Jess glanced at her watch, mentally rearranging deadlines and schedules and pickups.

Panic bubbled up: Juno was out of school in less than an hour.

The doctor left, and Nana's eyes were heavy from sedation.

“Pops,” Jess whispered. “I need to make some calls, okay? I'll be right back.”

He nodded, numb, and she excused herself to the hall. Her
safety net had a hole in it: Fizzy was in LA. Nana and Pops were obviously indisposed. She scrolled through her contacts, feeling very, very alone. Pausing on her mom's name, Jess sifted through every possible outcome. Jamie would be on time, but smoking. She'd be late, and Juno would be alone and worried. Jamie would be on time, not smoking, but would fill Juno's head with weird criticisms and jabs. She'd be on time, not smoking, wouldn't fill Juno's head with garbage, but would find the open bottle of wine in Jess's fridge and figure
why not
.

Jess didn't like any of the options. She dropped heavily into a chair.

Her phone rang in her hand, and she looked down to see River's name.

Jess didn't even think; she picked up after one ring, her voice breaking on his name. “River?”

“Hey. I…” A pause. “Is everything okay?”

She swiped at her eyes, chin trembling. “No.”

His tone went soft with concern. “What's happening?”

“I'm at the hospital.” Her words came out strangled.

It sounded like he'd just stood up. “Oh, no.”

“Nana broke her hip, and I need someone to get Juno from school.” Jess swiped at her eyes again. “I know this wasn't part of the bargain, but Fizzy is gone and my mom—”

“No, hey. Of course I'll get her. Will they let me pick her up?”

“I can call and…” Tears spilled over, and Jess bent, pressing her face into her hand. “Oh my God, I had a call at four. And tomorrow—”

“Let's make a list,” he cut in gently.
Yes, a plan.
Order. Her brain
held on to the lifeline. “First things first: Call the school. I'll text you a photo of my license with all my information so you can just read it off to them, okay?”

Call the school, let them know. “Okay.”

“Does she have anything after school on Tuesdays?”

Jess felt clearer, but slow. She imagined the calendar in the kitchen, the tiny little boxes with Juno's hearts and bubbly handwriting. “She has ballet, but she can skip it. Can you bring her here? We're at Scripps.”

“Jess, I can take her to ballet.”

Jess immediately shook her head; she'd already crossed too many boundaries. “No, it's okay, I—”

“I promise, it's not a problem, and I'm sure having her at the hospital won't be easier on you.”

She went silent, unable to disagree.

“I've attended plenty of ballet recitals. Remember the meddling sisters?” he said. “I know what a plié is and everything.”

Letting out a soft sound, not a laugh, not a sob, Jess was too drained to argue. “They've never been apart,” she said. She needed someone else to know how much her grandparents loved each other. “Fifty-six years. I don't know what Pops would do if something happened to her.”

“It's going to be okay,” River said soothingly. Jess nodded. She needed to believe it, too.

SHE CALLED THE
school and made arrangements for River to pick up Juno. He texted as soon as he had her, sending a photo of the two
of them making silly faces, and then another of Juno safely buckled into the back seat of his shiny black Audi. Frankly, Juno looked
delighted
to be there. Jess could only imagine the harassment she would get to buy a new car, “like River Nicolas's.”

Nana was wheeled into surgery a couple of hours later, and a nurse handed Pops a small pager that looked like the kind restaurants used.

“That'll vibrate when we have news,” the nurse told them. “Bring it up to the desk and we'll update you. If it doesn't go off, there's nothing new to tell you.”

Pops alternated between holding Jess's hand in the waiting room and taking long walks around the building. His eyes were red-rimmed when he returned, his body heavy as he sank into the chair facing hers.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Not yet.” Jess leaned forward, taking his hands and pulling them into her lap. “Do you remember that time Nana bought us all gardening gloves and didn't realize the ‘floral print' was actually marijuana?”

“The way she kept insisting it was a Japanese maple.” His shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “And Junebug still pointing out ‘Nana's favorite plant' whenever she sees one on a T-shirt or a sign.”

The sound of familiar laughter carried down the hall, and Jess looked up in time to see River and Juno turning the corner into the waiting room. Juno was still dressed for ballet in her pale pink leotard and tights, but her favorite pink cowboy boots clomped across
the linoleum floor. Her hair was pulled up in a lopsided bun, and she held on to River with one hand, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers in the other. The sight of their clasped hands yanked a breath from Jess's throat.

“There's my girl,” Pops said, eyes lighting up.

“We brought sandwiches!” Juno whisper-yelled, and Jess glanced up to River. He must have explained to her that this was a hospital, and sick people were trying to rest. Jess couldn't imagine another scenario where Juno Merriam Davis didn't burst into this room at full volume looking for her nana.

She handed Jess the flowers, pressed a kiss to her mom's lips, and then climbed onto Pops's lap.

Jess stood, taking the white paper bag River offered. “You didn't have to do that.”

“We figured the last thing on your mind would be dinner,” he said.

She smelled meatball subs, and her mouth watered. “Thank God, because I am famished.”

“How is she?”

“Yeah, how is Nana Jo?” Juno asked.

“She's still in surgery,” Jess said. “They're expecting her to be fine, we're just waiting.” She handed Pops a sandwich and pointed with hers up at the hunk of male magic in front of them. “Pops, this is River Peña. River, this is my grandfather Ronald Davis.”