The Soulmate Equation (23 page)

About halfway down a messy pile of papers, a corner of one stuck out. Jess's eye caught on something written in the top left corner, and she carefully pulled free the thick binder-clipped cluster.

Client 144326.

Her blood turned carbonated as she registered what she was seeing. That was her. Jess's data. And beneath her number was another:
Client 000001.

River.

Below, in bold, was the information they'd heard a thousand times in the past month:
Compatibility quotient: 98.

She'd never seen their raw scores before, but there was something oddly holy about holding the data in her hands.

Okay. I'll see you in a bit. I love you.
His words echoed in her mind.

Smiling, Jess scanned the rows and rows of numbers reverently. The client numbers and compatibility score were in the top left corner, and in the top right was the assay information: date, time, which DNADuo machine had run the assay, et cetera. Below that were about sixty rows of numbers, broken into three groups of columns, each three columns wide. Behind this sheet, there were pages and pages of solid numbers.

Jess got chills realizing she was currently holding the information on the roughly 3,500 genes for which she and River aligned. Was it really possible that their connection—their love—was encoded in their cells? Was she programmed from the day she was born to feel this happy—even when Jamie was leaving her over and over, when girls teased her on the soccer field for her drunk mother on the sidelines, when Alec stared mutely at the pregnancy
test for a handful of minutes and finally said, “I've never wanted kids”? Of all the men Jess could connect with, was River her perfect fit all along?

The idea made her both queasy and high. She looked back down, leaning in to focus on each tiny row of information. The first two columns on each set showed what she assumed was the gene information—gene names and GenBank session number. The third columns held raw compatibility scores, with numbers that seemed to range from zero to four. Nearly all of their scores were higher than 2.5. So, somehow these scores came together in the neural network's algorithm, and
ninety-eight
popped out at the end. Clearly, Jess could see now, the data was scientific, but it also felt deeply magical. She was a convert. Show her to the GeneticAltar.

She dragged a finger across the page, wanting to feel the information for herself.

Their most recent assay had been completed on January 30—River'd drawn her blood the night before with such careful formality. They'd been so awkward around each other, so wary. Jess bit back a laugh remembering. Holy shit, she'd had no idea: he'd wanted her even then.

Looking up to confirm David's office door was closed, she quickly took a picture. She knew she shouldn't; it might have even been illegal—besides, she could just ask River for a copy of it anyway. But Jess knew she'd want to look at it again and again. Flipping through, she began snapping photos of every page, rows upon rows upon rows of data. Each one had a few values circled, annotated, called out—she guessed—for being totally fucking awesome.

Maybe she'd frame this for him as a gift at some point.

Maybe they'd each pick their favorite gene and get that value tattooed.

Maybe she was starting to sound like one of Fizzy's heroines right now and should probably shut the hell up.

Grinning like an idiot, Jess flipped to the next page, ready to snap a picture, but stopped. This next set of data was from their first DNADuo assay, the one from her spit kit. In this stack, some cells were circled in pencil and some notes were scribbled in the margins, barely legible. Jess marveled that their data had been pored over like this. Her soaring-soundtrack brain sang that their data might even unlock larger truths about love and emotional connection.

And there was still more. Jess flipped more pages, expecting notes and correspondence, but she found another first page.
A duplicate?
No. It was a different first page—someone else's—from an assay run in 2014.

Client 05954

Client 05955

Compatibility quotient: 93

This must be David's Diamond Match pile, Jess assumed. But her brain tripped over a coincidence in the upper right corner. She flipped between this one and her and River's top sheet, comparing.

The assay dates were different in all three cases, but the assay end time was exactly the same.

Every time.

Jess blinked, tilting gently toward uneasy, flipping back to their first pages to confirm. Yes: for all three assays, the run time ended at 15:45:23.

Her stomach tightened. Statistically, that was… deeply unlikely. Out of 86,400 seconds in each twenty-four hours, there was only a 0.0012 percent chance of
two
events landing on the same second. Even if Jess assumed the assays were usually started and finished at roughly the same time—say within the same four-hour window—that was still only a likelihood of 0.007 percent, or a 7 out of 100,000 chance, that Jess and River's assay and another assay completed on a different day would have finished at the
exact same time
. But all three? It was nearly impossible. The chances—Jess closed her eyes to do the math—of three assays randomly ending at the same exact second on different days were roughly 1 in 2.5 million.

Jess tried to think logically. She pushed back the roaring in her ears. Maybe the machines were programmed to begin and end at the same time to reduce certain variables? It wouldn't be unheard of.

Except on January 29, River had started the assay almost immediately after taking her blood. In fact, he'd double-gloved and rolled up to the fume hood before she'd even left the room. The following morning, he'd texted her, asking for a date, and said the test had been confirmed. But although the date on the printout was right, how was it possible River had the data in the morning if the assay wasn't complete until 3:45 that afternoon? Did he lie to her that he'd gotten the confirmation? That didn't sound like River.

“What the fuck?” Jess exhaled the words, confused.
I have… I have to be missing something.

Her lungs hurt. Her stomach rolled. Her eyes burned from the strain of her intense focus. She couldn't blink. And then—her heart
seemed to fill with needles—Jess noticed that all three assays were run on the DNADuo 2. She remembered seeing the two machines the night he ran the blood samples and asking about them.

“Are those the DNADuos?”

“Creatively named DNADuo One and DNADuo Two. DNADuo Two is down right now. Getting serviced next week. It'll be up and running by May, I hope.”

A thought crashed into her head. She was frantic now. Flipping through the respective pages on the two data sets, she scanned down the columns on the two pieces of paper. She tried to find differences in the data sets between her and River's ninety-eight, and this other couple's ninety-three.

She couldn't; they were identical. Every value—as far as she could tell—was exactly the same. It all went blurry the harder she stared. It was too many rows. Too many tiny numbers. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack while her hair and the haystack were both on fire. And, she thought desperately, for scores this high, maybe most of the raw scores
would
be identical? What was she missing?

With dread sinking in her chest, Jess registered that the circled numbers on their first data sheet were circled for a reason. Her gaze slid to a penciled oval on the original spreadsheet from January 19.

Jess brought a shaking hand to her mouth. On her and River's sheet, she saw:

OT-R GeneID 5021 3.5

But on the other couple's:

OT-R GeneID 5021 1.2

Inside another circle on their original sheet—for the gene
PDE4D—Jess and River had a 2.8. Her heart vaulted into her throat. The other couple had a 1.1.

Jess only had the stomach to confirm two more circled values—an AVP of 3.1 on hers and River's, a 2.1 on the other couple's; for DRD4, a 2.9 on theirs, a 1.3 on the other couple's.

As far as Jess could see, the
only
values that were different—maybe only thirty in the entire data set of nearly 3,500—were the ones that had been circled in their first DNADuo. To draw attention to them. If it weren't for the identical time stamp and the DNADuo 2 mystery, Jess could have told herself a lie, that those values were circled because they differentiated her and River from the other assay. But she knew they weren't circled because they were special. They were circled to keep track of which ones had been altered. Someone had, on purpose, changed a compatibility score of ninety-three into a ninety-eight.

Johan and Dotty were our very first Diamond Match
, River had said at the cocktail party.
Their granddaughter brought them to us back in 2014, and she was right: they came through with a score of ninety-three.

She might throw up. With shaking hands, Jess took a picture of every page of the assay she was almost certain belonged to Johan and Dotty Fuchs. She nearly knocked over the pile twice. She was numb as she bent and stowed her laptop. She put her phone away. And then she sat quietly. Waiting for Aneesha to come for her, Jess had no idea how she was going to get through the interview, knowing what she knew now.

River and Jess had never been a Diamond Match.

I
N THE PAST
twenty minutes, River had asked her four times whether she was okay.

Of course he had; any creature with a pulse could sense that there was something Not Right about her at the moment. But she couldn't talk about it yet, and couldn't talk about it
here
at the office, and even if she could—she wasn't sure she was prepared to hear his answer to the simplest question:
Did you know this whole time?

So she put on a flimsy blissful mask and answered Aneesha's questions. But River's quiet concern repeatedly reminded Jess that her stress was as clear on her face as a fever. The shock felt like the flu.

They took some photos together outside; they took some in the lab, laughing and gazing adoringly into each other's eyes. But behind her smile, the question rammed into Jess's thoughts like the piercing siren of a police car. Until she knew the answer, she couldn't even let the next question slot into place, though it pressed against the glass anyway:
Is what I feel even real?

Statistically speaking, she and River were many thousand times more likely to find their soulmate in a Base Match than they were to ever get an authentic Diamond Match, so even if their true score was a twenty-five, it wasn't like they couldn't be right together. But it was so much easier to trust those early, deep reactions when the numbers supported her.

But she was getting ahead of herself, and without information—without data—it was the last thing she could let herself do. Jess mentally crumpled the thoughts into a wadded-up ball of paper and set it on fire. One moment at a time, and now was not the moment for a meltdown.

Aneesha finished up on-site and gave Jess and River time to say goodbye before he had to leave with the
People
team to meet up with David and Brandon. Even thinking of David right then made Jess's stomach sour. And if River knew… she didn't know what she would do; her emotions would be too hot and giant and impossible to manage.

The moment they were alone, River pulled Jess into an alcove, bending to look her directly in the eye.

“I feel like I'm missing something,” he said quietly. “Are you mad at me?”

This one she could actually field.
Are you okay?
had been too big to answer under her breath with Aneesha and her photographer ten feet away.

“I'm not mad at you. But can we get together later?”

He laughed, confused. “Of course. I assumed we'd—”

“Just us.”

The smile evaporated, and a frown lined his forehead. River took a step closer, sliding a hand down her arm and linking his warm fingers with her cold ones. “Have I done something wrong?”

Jess hated to say “I don't know,” but it was true.

“Something happened,” she admitted, “and I need to ask you about it, but now isn't the time.” She swallowed. “I know it sucks, and I'm sure you're going to be worrying about this until we can talk about it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I will, too. You just have to trust me that we can't do it here, and we need more than the ten minutes we have before you and Aneesha have to go.”

River gazed down at her and seemed to decide this was the best he was going to get right then. “Okay. I trust you.” He pulled her into his chest. There was honestly nothing Jess wanted more than to be able to confidently put her arms around his waist and lose herself in the clean citrus smell of him. But her joints were locked, posture stiff. “We'll talk later?” he asked, pulling back to look at her, cupping her elbows.

“Yeah.” Her phone buzzed in her back pocket and she retrieved it, expecting notification of some work email, or a text from Pops about dinner plans.

But it was from Fizzy, and worry immediately pushed all of the tightness in Jess's chest up into her throat.

I need you ASAP. Best friend bat signal.

“Sorry,” Jess whispered. “It's Fizzy. She…”

Jess quickly replied:

Are you ok?

I am safe and not injured. But no. I'm not ok.

Heart pounding, Jess looked up at River. She didn't like leaving things like this, but she was going to have to. “I really need to go.”

His voice was a low blend of exasperated and worried, and he reached for her arm. “
Jess
—”

“She needs me. Fizzy never needs me. Call me when you're all done?”

He nodded and took a step back, letting her go.

Turning away, Jess typed as she walked:

Where are you?

My place. Are you coming?

Yes. Be there in 20.

FIZZY'S FRONT DOOR
was open; the interior of the house was shaded behind the screen door. Jess didn't hear sobbing or screaming—which was reassuring—but Bon Iver played quietly from the living room speakers. For someone like Fizzy, whose general mood leaned
more upbeat bop than quiet ballad, Bon Iver gave Jess a legitimate reason to worry.

And like that, River was put aside for later. Jess had a great deal of experience compartmentalizing. Jamie had shown up at Jess's high school graduation toward the end of a four-day-long meth bender and stalked the aisles looking for her among the sea of classmates. About thirty seconds after she loudly climbed over Jerome Damiano and Alexa Davidson to get to her daughter, Jamie was escorted out by the campus security guard. Even so, Jess stood and made her way to the front of the auditorium when her name was called.

And, Jess remembered, she and Alec broke up about an hour before she presented her thesis to the entire mathematics department, when she was six months pregnant with Juno. She'd shoved all of her anger and disappointment aside, gone into the presentation with an enormous smile and beautifully designed slides, and gotten an A.

One look at Fizzy curled up in a ball on her couch, eyes red-rimmed, hair in an uncharacteristically messy bun, and a familiar wall slid into place.

She sat down, pulling one of Fizzy's bare feet into her lap. “Tell me.”

Reaching up to wipe her nose, Fizzy said simply, “He's married.”

“Who's married?”

Fizzy turned her watery dark eyes up to Jess's face. “
Rob
.”

“
Banker
Rob?”

“Yeah.”

“Married? To a person?”

“Yeah.”

Jess stared at her, disbelieving. “Wasn't he Daniel's brother's friend? How did no one say anything to you?”

“Apparently he's, like, a friend of a friend of a friend, and Rob got married sometime in the past two years, when they hadn't been hanging out as much.”

“What a—a
garbage human
.” Jess's jaw hung open. “How did you find out?”

“He found me at Twiggs and told me.”

“He told you in public?”

Fizzy nodded, grim. “He sat in your chair.”

She gasped. “How dare he!”

“I know.”

“So what did you do?”

Fizzy took a deep, fortifying breath. “I got up, asked Daniel for a pitcher of ice water, and dumped it in Rob's lap.”

“
Applause
,” Jess whispered, impressed.

“I think he started to freak out that he was going to get caught. One night in Little Italy we ran into someone he knew, and he introduced me to the guy as his ‘friend Felicity,' which at the time, I was like—‘That's fair, we're pretty new still,' but now I know why.” Fizzy's face crumpled. “I really liked him, Jess, and you know me,” she said, hiccupping, “I never like anyone. I cooked for him, and talked about books with him, and we had inside jokes—and he's fucking married. And I swear he wanted credit for coming clean with me. Like, he was genuinely shocked that I was so pissed.” She wiped her nose again.

“Come here.” Jess shifted Fizz's foot away and pulled the whole Fizzy into her arms, squeezing tight while her friend cried.

“You know the crazy thing?” Fizzy asked, her voice muffled by Jess's shirt.

“What?”

“We just sent in his spit samples.”

“To GeneticAlly?” Jess asked, and Fizzy nodded. “I thought you weren't going to do that.”

Fizzy wailed. “We weren't!”

“God,” Jess said, “what a dumbass. What was he expecting to happen?”

“Right?” Her best friend laughed through a sob. “And now, what if I find out that we're, like, perfect for each other, and it doesn't matter because he's married? I don't want to know if we're supposed to be together!”

The feelings from the other room peeked around Jess's neat little compartmentalized corner, asking if it was time to come out yet. Jess shook her head. It was not.

“Well, logistically, you can request that his account never be linked to yours so you never have to know, but I'm fairly sure that he doesn't belong anywhere near your perfect, kind, sassy ass, anyway. Anyone who would do something like that is rotten from the inside. I bet his DNA looks like black bathroom mold.”

“Like long strings of mucus,” Fizzy agreed.

“I could keep this metaphor going, but it's only going to get grosser.” Jess squeezed her again. “I'm sorry, cutie. I want to know where he lives so I can go shove his head up his ass so far he can lick his own ear.”

“His wife would be there,” Fizzy said quietly. “I guess that's why we never went to his place.”

“Garbage human,” Jess whispered angrily.

Fizzy wiped her nose on Jess's shirt before pulling back and inspecting it. Suspicion straightened her frown as her attention moved up Jess's neck to her face and hair. She sniffled. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“We did
People
today at the offices.”

The watery, puffy version of her best friend groaned, falling dramatically back on the throw pillows. “I sent the bat signal when you were with
People
magazine, oh my God.” After a thoughtful beat, she sat up and threw her arms around Jess again. “And you came!”

“It would be in my best interest to take these golden friend points and not tell you that we'd already finished when I got your text,” Jess said. “But the lying would negate the golden friend points. And I swear I would have come anyway.”

“But you could be off having celebratory sex with your soulmate, and I could have just used wine and cheese for emotional support.”

Soulmate.

Jess shot a warning look at the feelings now plotting their escape. “I would always rather you lean on me than on wine and cheese.” She paused before adding, “And River isn't done with the interview.”

“I'm honored to be your second choice.”

“Third,” Jess reminded her.

Fizzy leaned back and laughed. “You suck.”

“Maybe, but I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Speaking of, do you need to pick up your first choice from school?”

“It's Monday,” Jess said. “Pops'll get her, and they'll do the
library thing. I have three hours to do whatever I can to make you feel better.”

FIZZY AND JESS
lounged on the couch with
Sense and Sensibility
playing quietly alongside their cheese-and-cracker feast. Eventually, Jess gave her one last squeeze, headed home, and got Juno fed, bathed, snuggled, and tucked in—and then got a full glass of wine in herself—before she opened the proverbial floodgates.

But then they were open, and thoughts of River drowned out everything else. The upside to pushing it all behind a wall was that she'd been able to function pretty normally all day; the downside was that she wasn't at all mentally prepared for the conversation awaiting her.

There was no use putting it off. Jess pulled out her phone, texting him.

Can you come over?

He answered immediately, almost like he'd been waiting with his phone in his hand:

Yes. Now?

Now is good.

She hit Send and then immediately replied again.

Wait.

She typed as fast as she could because she knew the
Wait
had probably sent him panic-spiraling.

This may sound strange, but did you ever see our raw data?

Of course.

Jess chewed her thumbnail as she considered how to phrase what she wanted to say next without giving him time to prepare an excuse if he had been in on the data fabrication all along. She wanted to be able to read the truth on his face. On the other hand, if he had a copy of the data at home, she wanted him to bring it.

Luckily, River saved her the trouble of phrasing the question.

I have the plot here. Want me to bring it over?

Jess exhaled a slow, hot stream of tension.

That would be great.

I should have offered that ages ago. I'm sorry. Is that what this is about?