Their father had come through the pass-through to embrace Jess, so Livie forced herself off her bar stool. As shell-shocked as she felt, she refused to let Jess see it. Tonight was her night. She deserved to see them all celebrating her good news. When their father finally released her, Livie was right there, ready to hug her little sister tight before she slipped away from them to head out into the big wide world.
“Congratulations, Jess,” she whispered against Jess’s dark hair. She was warm, and smelled so familiar.
“Thank you, Livie.”
“When’s the wedding?” Gemma pressed.
“Oh, not for ages,” Jess scoffed. “We’re too busy to even think about it yet.”
Behind them, their father had grasped Alex by the hand, pumping it hard, before pulling him in roughly for a one-armed hug. “Welcome to the family, son,” he murmured gruffly.
“Thank you, John. It’s an honor. And I promise you, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making Jess happy.”
Jess pulled away from Livie to beam up at Alex, her eyes full of so much happiness and love that it hurt to look at her.
“This calls for a toast,” Dad said. “Let’s open some champagne.”
Gemma scoffed. “Champagne? What do you think this is, the Plaza? I think we have a couple of bottles of prosecco, though.”
“Fine, that’ll do.”
Moments later, a cork popped and everyone cheered. Gemma had rustled up enough champagne flutes for everyone—Livie had no idea where she’d found them—and their father was pouring, grinning from ear to ear. Whatever reservations he’d expressed in the shock of the moment seemed completely forgotten. Livie hadn’t seen him look this happy in years.
Her father passed around glasses, including Frank and Dennis, because, let’s face it, the two of them spent so much time at the bar, they were practically family, too.
“A toast,” he declared, raising his glass and addressing Jess and Alex. “To my baby girl, Jess, and her fiancé, Alex. Salute!”
The bar erupted in applause and cheers, everyone joining into Jess and Alex’s celebration, even if they didn’t know them. This is what Livie had always loved about Romano’s. It turned strangers into family.
And if strangers could celebrate this news, then she would, too. She might be harboring her own bittersweet emotions about Jess’s engagement, but tonight—somehow—she’d make herself be happy.
Chapter Thirteen
The Romano house had its own quiet symphony of noises at night, ones Livie had memorized through many nocturnal hours spent fruitlessly chasing sleep. The thunks of the old plumbing deep in the walls, the scrape of the branches of the linden tree across her window, the faint roar of a jet passing overhead on its way to LaGuardia airport, the occasional sound of voices outside on the sidewalk, or a car driving down their block—it was all as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.
Tonight, when Livie woke at two a.m., one sound was missing—the steady rumble of Spudge’s snore from his usual post in the hallway, right between her room and Jess’s at the top of the stairs—and right where you were sure to trip over him in the dark. Spudge was getting old, and she got a little nervous whenever he wasn’t where she expected him to be.
Slipping out of bed, she made her way to the stairs. Jess’s door stood open, her room dark. She’d gone home with Alex after the big announcement, as she usually did. She was already halfway out the door, starting her new life.
At the top of the stairs, Livie paused. The entire house was dark, except for the living room, lit up with the flickering blue glow of the TV. Someone else was up. No one else was ever up when Livie wandered through the house at this hour.
Downstairs, she found Spudge curled up next to Nick on the sofa, his head in his lap.
“Hey, did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “What are you doing up?”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Me neither. What are you watching?” On TV, a spaceship careened through the stars.
“Some Japanese sci-fi thing. Have a seat.”
She hesitated, tugging at the hem of her sleep shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, because she hadn’t expected to find anyone else up. Her hair was probably a haystack, too. Not that she thought he’d notice, but still, she wasn’t used to being seen when she’d rolled out of bed in the middle of the night, especially not by him.
“Spudge is good company but you make better conversation,” Nick said, as she was self-consciously running a hand down her hair to smooth the bedhead.
Giving in, she settled on the couch next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest and tucking her feet under one of the throw pillows. “Why do you have the sound turned off?”
Nick shrugged as two guys in futuristic uniforms argued on the screen in silence. “I’m always up at night and Poppy complained when the TV kept her awake. I got in the habit of watching foreign films with the sound off. They have subtitles, so you can still follow what’s going on.”
“You like space movies?”
“Ever since I watched Star Trek with my—when I was a kid.”
“And what’s going on?” Because even with subtitles, Livie was having a hard time making sense of the action.
“These guys are the good guys, and they’re under attack by those aliens in that ship. See? But their plasma beam is off-line, so these two are going to climb down into the bowels of the ship to get it back online manually.”
“Plasma beam,” Livie muttered. “That is not a thing, scientifically speaking.”
“Neither are aliens with octopus heads, but here we are.”
“Why is that guy going into that tunnel? It keeps filling up with flames.”
“Oh, he’s gonna die for sure,” Nick assured her.
“How do you know that?”
“Because he doesn’t have a name. They just keep calling him ‘Ensign,’ unlike our hero here. He’s a total redshirt.”
“His shirt is gold.”
“No, a redshirt. Like in Star Trek?”
Livie shook her head. “Never watched it.”
Nick turned his head to gape at her. “Where have you been?”
“Probably in the library. Explain what redshirts are.”
“Okay, a redshirt is a character who’s only there to die. They’re cannon fodder. They don’t get a name or a backstory and they’re not really integral to the hero’s story. They tag along with the hero and bite it first, so you know how much danger the hero is in.”
“Like that guy just did,” Livie pointed out, as the redshirt in question writhed in a blast of exhaust flames before plummeting presumably to his death.
“Yep. See ya, Ensign Whatever. Now our hero is left on his own to complete the mission.”
“With the plasma beam.”
“That plasma beam is about to save the day.” Nick shifted his weight under Spudge, sinking farther down into the squishy sofa. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, she decided, having company other than Spudge when she was awake at night.
She snuck a look at him as he watched the battle scene unfolding on the screen. The blue light cast his features in stark contrast, highlighting the little bump in the bridge of his nose and the shape of his lips, the lower a little bit fuller than the upper. This late at night, his face had a shadow of stubble that wasn’t there during the day. Staring at him, imagining how it would feel to touch it, made Livie’s insides twist up with a sensation that she couldn’t identify as good or bad.
“Okay, watch this.” He nudged her with his elbow. She turned her attention away from him before he could catch her staring and tried to pay attention to the patently ridiculous space fight playing out on screen.
At the very last second, the hero managed to flip a big metal lever that allowed the plasma beam to power up and blast their enemy’s ship into oblivion. A lever. Like
it was some old Victorian steam engine.
“This explosion is ridiculous,” she said as a massive fireball engulfed the enemy ship. “That ship is far too small to contain enough oxygen to fuel a fire that large. The combustion would only expand until the fuel source burned up. And there’s no way the good guys would feel the blast on their ship. There’s no atmosphere in space to get displaced by the shock waves—”
Nick lifted his hand and put his finger against her lips.
His finger. On her lips. She froze, her eyes locked on his. She couldn’t even breathe, staring into his eyes, imagining that fingertip sliding across her cheek, and down her neck.
Nick blinked and his fingertip slid away from her lips, although they still tingled from the touch. “I am never watching another terrible Japanese sci-fi movie featuring octopus-headed aliens with you again.” His teasing blew away every bit of the tension from a moment ago, which had undoubtedly all been in her head anyway.
“Sorry,” she mumbled when her ability to speak had returned. “My sisters hate watching movies with me.”
He chuckled, his shoulder jostling hers gently. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’m watching for the plot anyway, and I like listening to you think out loud. You’re more interesting than the movie.”
It was nothing but a silly, offhanded compliment, but her cheeks heated with pleasure. On screen, in the aftermath of his triumph, the hero was suddenly embroiled in some sort of romantic subplot, with a woman who hadn’t appeared on screen at all during the big battle.
“So your sister’s fiancé.”
Livie choked on the breath she’d been taking. “Her what?”
“Alex. They’re engaged.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just weird, hearing him called that. I’m not used to it yet. Jess, engaged.”
“Is he always so perfect?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I really like the guy. But he’s like a movie hero, right? Good-looking, rich, nice, and he’s a Mets fan. It’s like they made him in a lab.”
Alex was disturbingly flawless. It was a good thing he was nice or he’d be insufferable. “I see what you mean. And yes, Alex is pretty perfect. He can’t help it.”
“Are you happy for her?” he asked.
“Jess? Of course I am. Why?”
“Earlier tonight, you seemed a little bothered.”
“What? Bothered?” It alarmed her, that Nick could read her so well, that he’d been watching her closely enough to notice anything was amiss.
“You just didn’t look all that happy. Is it Alex? Do you not like him?”
“No,” she answered firmly. “Alex is perfect, like you said. And he adores Jess. I’m happy for her.”
Nick turned away from the movie, which seemed to have launched into some mystifying fourth act. “But?”
Livie considered brushing him off. Outside of her sisters, she didn’t really share herself with other people. But Nick was beginning to feel different. Talking to him, telling him what she was really thinking, came strangely easily.
“Alex is great,” she said slowly. “But his life is very different than Jess’s. He’s got all this money and power.” It took a minute to herd her thoughts into the right order. “I like him, but he’s nothing like who I thought Jess would pick. He’s not the kind of guy I thought would make her happy.”
Nick shrugged. “Who’s right for you, who makes you happy...maybe it’s not always who you think it should be. Ah, hell, don’t listen to me. What do I know about relationships? I’m a disaster.”
Well, he had a point there. “It’s not Alex. It’s Jess. She’s leaving.”
“What do you mean?”
Livie tugged the hem of her nightshirt down over her toes. “For years, it’s been the four of us. And now Jess is leaving.”
“You’re not going to lose her. I’ve only spent a day around your family and I can see how close you are. That’s not going to disappear.”
“I know. But it’ll never be quite the same, you know?”
“Maybe it’ll be better? Because—” he paused, thinking “—maybe they made it official tonight, but the guy is already part of your family. And that’s a pretty great thing. He’s a lucky man, in more ways than one.”
There was a tiny hint of envy in his voice. Sure, sometimes people were estranged from their families for very good reasons. But if that was the case for Nick, why did that little bit of wistfulness creep in whenever he talked about hers?
Livie watched him in silence as he stared at the TV, seemingly a million miles away. She was glad he’d connected so quickly with her family, but none of them could fix what was missing in Nick’s life. No matter how much she was starting to wish they could.
Chapter Fourteen
Livie blew a strand of hair out of her face. She’d been wrestling with the department’s temperamental printer for forty minutes, trying to get her handouts printed out, and now it was jammed. The last of her worn-out patience expired when Peter Hockman showed up, leaning against the wall of the alcove where the printer lived, lurking, watching her in silence.
Finally, she snapped. “Do you need something, Peter?”
“Just wondering how much longer you’re going to be. I’ve got to print some stuff for Langley.”
“Can’t you use Langley’s office printer? This is still in the middle of the job and right now, it’s jammed.”
“Langley doesn’t like me touching his computer equipment.”
Langley didn’t trust him with his printer? How was Peter ever going to get anything done on Langley’s research? That required handling equipment a whole lot more valuable than a university-owned printer.
“Well, there are thirty copies of two more pages in queue still. I’m going to be a while.”
“Jesus, how long is your handout?”
“Six pages.”
Peter scoffed. “Your students must hate you.”
That was probably true. Okay, it was definitely true. Maybe she wasn’t the most popular teacher, but she felt strongly that students should be armed with as much information as possible. They didn’t have to like her to learn something.
“Hasn’t Finch bought you your own printer by now?”
“Why would she do that?”
“You guys have all that sweet grant money now.”
“Yes, for the research. Not so I can have my own personal printer in my office.”
Peter scoffed. “Then you’re an idiot.”
Ugh. Peter Hockman seemed to be determined to live out every misogynistic science bro horror story ever reported. He’d never hassle one of their male classmates like this. If Nick had ever condescended to her this way, she’d have kicked him off the project in a heartbeat, hot or not.
“I’m an idiot because I don’t siphon off grant money for personal use? Aside from being unethical, that would violate university policy. But I’m sure you already know that.”
Peter narrowed his eyes at her before straightening up. He was a really big guy. Not particularly muscular, but well over six feet and very broad—beefy. He seemed to take up far too much space in the tiny alcove, and she felt uncomfortably hemmed in.
“What I know is that you and Finch better not get too smug about your little windfall.”
Livie leaned back against the printer, wishing he’d back up a step, or leave altogether. “It’s not like we won the lottery, Peter. Janet’s theory is soundly researched, and our grant application was exhaustive. It wasn’t a gift, and it’s not ours. The money is Skylight’s. They’re just allowing us to choose how it gets spent.”
“On Finch’s little black hole fantasy.”
She flushed, unaccustomed to confrontation and totally tongue-tied, as always. Why couldn’t she come up with a good response? Or any response at all? As she stood there, feeli
ng furious, frustrated, and annoyed with both Peter and herself, another voice piped up from somewhere behind Peter’s meaty shoulder.
“Finch’s research could transform telecommunications. Tell me what exactly you guys are trying to do with Langley’s tired old interstellar medium research?”
Peter spun around to glare down at Michiko, who was calmly gazing up at him. She’d handed him the scathing set-down Livie wished she’d been able to come up with, and she didn’t look even a little flustered. How did she do that?
Of course, now that the moment of confrontation was past, Livie had a hundred things to say to Peter. But her mind had been a total blank in the heat of the moment. Nick probably would have had a thousand perfect zingers on the tip of his tongue. People like him always did.
“Langley’s a genius,” Peter said. “Nobody in this second-rate school appreciates his work.”
“If you say so,” Michiko said cheerfully. “Do you need some help with the printer, Livie? I’m pretty good with it at this point.”
“Um, sure.”
Michiko paused, staring pointedly up at Peter, who had to be easily twice her size. “Um, excuse me, Peter. Can I get by?”
Peter stood there, seething silently for another minute, but finally he stormed off noisily down the hall. Livie slowly let out her breath.
“Thanks, Michiko. I don’t know what his problem is.”
Love and the Laws of Motion Page 9
