Intermediate Thermodynamics: A Romantic Comedy (Chemistry Lessons Book 2)

by Susannah Nix

  She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I can’t be what you need me to be. I don’t feel what you want me to feel.” She stopped pacing and stared at the floor. Grasping for something to say. “The screenplay was amazing, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry.”

  She missed being his friend—so much. But she couldn’t give him more than that. And he deserved more. He deserved someone who could return his feelings unreservedly. As much as he thought he wanted her, she’d only end up hurting him even more. She owed him better than that.

  He exhaled a long, slow breath. “Okay. I guess that’s it, then.” He sounded deflated, like an old helium balloon.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. Final this time. A goodbye.

  “Wait, don’t hang up.”

  She waited.

  “I miss you.”

  Her gaze went to the wall between their apartments. The only thing physically standing between them. Just a few inches of drywall and insulation.

  There was a tremor in her voice when she spoke. “I miss you too.”

  “There’s something real here. Don’t throw us away.” It was almost exactly what Jonas had said to Emily.

  She pressed her palm against the wall that separated them. She didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure she could anymore.

  “I love you,” Jonathan said.

  Her stomach dropped like she’d just done a corkscrew on a rollercoaster, and she jerked her hand away from the wall.

  No man who wasn’t related to her had ever said those words to her before. It felt as if the sky had reached down and smacked her in the face. “What?” she said, squeezing her fingers around the phone.

  “You heard me.”

  “Jonathan.” His name came out in a strangled whisper. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t love you or don’t say it?”

  “Both.” She felt faint. Her hand reached out for the wall again to hold herself up.

  “I can’t change how I feel. And don’t try to tell me you don’t have feelings for me, because I know you do.”

  “Of course I care about you, but…” It was too much pressure. She felt paralyzed. Unable to think of anything to say.

  “But not enough, is that what you’re saying?”

  She blinked at the wall separating them. She could picture his face perfectly. The dark eyebrows, drawn together. That crinkle he got in his forehead when he was being serious. His eyes, soft and earnest behind his glasses.

  She reached up to wipe the tears from her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” he said. Bitter. Resigned. “I guess that’s it.”

  He hung up.

  Esther sank to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, still clutching her phone.

  He didn’t really love her. He was in love with the idea of being in love. He’d been looking for someone to fill the empty space in his heart for so long, he’d settled on the first person who came along. He’d only fixated on her because she was there. Because she was convenient.

  That was what she tried to tell herself, anyway.

  But deep down, she knew it was a lie.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  No one had ever fallen in love with Esther before. Not once, not in her whole life. She’d thought it would feel…better. And less vomit-inducing.

  Maybe it would, if she wasn’t so broken. If she was capable of responding the way she was supposed to. Normal people probably didn’t feel like they were having a panic attack when someone they cared about told them they loved them.

  Esther went to work the next day and tried not to think about it. There was a meeting coming up she needed to prepare for. A conflict had been identified between some of the power and payload sub-assemblies, and there was a roadblock meeting Monday to go over the problem and decide what to do about it.

  It was a chance for Esther to ingratiate herself with both assembly teams. If she could come up with a solution and convince them to implement it, it would go a long way to proving her value.

  Except she couldn’t concentrate. Every time she tried to think about the problem, she wound up thinking about Jonathan instead. Replaying their phone conversation in her head, or remembering lines from his script. And then her stomach would start to hurt and her chest would feel too tight, and she’d have to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from crying.

  At lunchtime, she went down to the cafeteria to get her food to go, like she always did. Yemi and Jinny were already there, at a table in the far back corner. Heads together. Huddled. Smiling at each other like there was no one else in the room. Esther watched them while she waited in line. They were in love. They might not know it themselves yet, but it was there to see, plain as day.

  They looked so happy, it made her stomach hurt even more. She wasn’t just feeling left out, she realized. She was envious of what they had together. That they could let themselves love like that.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon struggling to focus on work. It was a relief when five o’clock rolled around and she could bolt for the door.

  Jonathan’s car wasn’t there when she got home. She felt disappointed. Her daily glimpses of his car were as close as she was able to get to seeing him. She wondered where he was, and if he was okay after their conversation last night. A fresh pang of guilt stabbed at her.

  As she was letting herself into her apartment, her phone rang. Great. Her mother. Another source of stomach-grinding stress.

  “You answered your phone,” her mother said. “You never answer your phone.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Esther said, grimacing as she slammed her door shut. She’d ignored her mom’s call the other night, and never gotten around to calling her back. One more thing to feel guilty about.

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to do about this apartment situation, sweetheart.”

  Just once, it would be nice if her mother would call to see how she was doing. Or at least ask how she was doing before jumping straight to her own problems.

  “Eric said you had more apartments to look at today.” Her brother had been helping their mom search for a new place, but so far there hadn’t been any she’d deemed tolerable. And the clock was ticking down to the end of the month.

  “They were all a nightmare. One of them had a sink in the bedroom.”

  Esther went into the kitchen to feed Sally. “I know it sucks, but you might have to lower your standards a little.”

  “You didn’t see these apartments, honey. No one would want their mother to live like that.”

  Eric had sent Esther the links, and she’d looked at them online. None of them had seemed that bad. They were about as nice as Esther’s place.

  “If I could just have a little bigger budget, it might be possible to find something fit for human habitation.”

  Esther sank down on the couch and rubbed her temples. “I can’t give you any more money than I already am.”

  “But I know you make good money at that job of yours.”

  “I’m only in my second year, and living in LA is expensive.”

  “Well, if you moved back to Seattle—”

  “Seattle’s expensive too,” Esther snapped. “And my job is in LA.”

  “You know I don’t like having to beg my daughter for money.”

  Esther gritted her teeth. “I know.”

  “You’re being unreasonable. I need your help.”

  “I can’t help you,” Esther said. “I’m sorry.”

  “What did I ever do to deserve this? How did I end up with a daughter who’s so unfeeling? One day I’ll be dead and you’ll regret treating me so coldly.” Her mother hung up angry. She always hung up angry these days.

  Esther didn’t know how much more of this she could stand. She went into the kitchen for a beer, and then she called her brother. “I’m offering Mom more money the next time she calls.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “I can’t deal with her anymore. Please let me throw money at the problem to make it go away.” />
  “How much money are you willing to throw at her? An extra thousand dollars a month? Because that’s what she thinks she needs. She wants this apartment in Maple Leaf that’s eighteen hundred bucks a month, because the light has a positive energy or some feng shui shit.”

  Esther couldn’t afford an extra thousand a month. Not and keep her current apartment. She could afford a couple hundred more, max.

  “Besides,” Eric said, “it won’t stop there. Not if you give in now. Next year she’ll want a little more, and even more the year after that. You’ll end up fully supporting her. Is that what you want? Is that something you can afford?”

  “She’s our mother.”

  “She’s not sick or disabled. She is perfectly capable of solving her own problems and supporting herself, she just doesn’t want to. Don’t let her manipulate you, Es. You’re not doing her any favors by giving in.”

  Esther knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t make her feel any better.

  She was getting a stomach ulcer. She could feel the acids churning around like a blender, eating away at her from the inside out. Every time her phone started blaring the ringtone she’d given her mom—“Mother’s Little Helper” by the Rolling Stones—she had a visceral negative reaction. Her heart started pounding and her stomach tried to turn in on itself.

  It was all too much. Maybe she’d be able to deal with it better if she had someone else to talk to. Jinny, or the knitting group, or Jonathan. Or Jonathan.

  God, she missed Jonathan so much. He’d know exactly what to say to cheer her up. He’d be able to understand, because he had issues with his parents too. His eyebrows would draw together like a fuzzy caterpillar and he’d blink those long lashes at her as his eyes softened in sympathy. Even if he couldn’t solve her problem, he’d make her feel better, just by listening.

  But Esther had lost Jonathan. She’d pushed him away. The only person she could talk to was Eric, and he was already harried enough. He was the one telling her not to do the thing she wanted to do.

  There was one potential solution to her mother’s problem that Esther had yet to explore. Something she knew Eric wouldn’t approve of.

  Their father owned a couple of rental houses. He might be convinced to offer one to their mother at a discounted rent. It was a long shot, but maybe he’d do it for Esther’s sake. If she explained that she and Eric were at their wit’s end, that she was stressing herself into an early grave, maybe he’d agree to help them out.

  She let the idea sit for a few minutes, rolling it around. Then she gave in and called her dad.

  “Esther?” He sounded surprised when he answered the phone. No wonder. She almost never called him. They hadn’t talked in months.

  “Hey, Dad,” she said, pacing around her apartment.

  “Is everything okay?” It wasn’t a holiday or anyone’s birthday, so of course he’d assume she was calling because something was wrong. Because she needed something. Which she did.

  She was treating her dad like her mother treated her. The realization made Esther feel even sicker.

  “Yeah,” she lied, “everything’s fine.”

  “What is it? You can tell me.” Even her absentee father could see through her lies. She’d meant to start out by asking how he was doing and pretending to be interested in his life, but that was out the window now.

  “I, um…I had a question about those two rental properties you own. In Fremont.”

  “What about them?”

  “Do you still have them?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t suppose there are any vacancies.” She knew it was a crazy pipe dream as soon as she said the words out loud. The two properties only had eight units between them. What were the odds one would be available? Much less that her father would be willing to let her mother live there.

  “What’s this about?” he asked, impatient for her to get to the point.

  “Mom’s losing her apartment.”

  “Oh. Of course.” His voice had gone flat. He was already distancing himself, the way he always did when the subject of her mother came up.

  Esther barreled on, even though she knew it was hopeless. “She’s having trouble finding a new place in her price range, and I was just wondering—hoping, really, that you might be able to rent her one of your properties.”

  “I doubt she’ll be able to afford the rent.”

  “I thought maybe you could give her a discount on it…” She chewed on her lower lip as she waited for his answer.

  “Esther.” His voice was even flatter now, like a penny left on a railroad track. “I can’t do that.”

  “You mean you won’t.”

  “I have renters in those properties with leases. I can’t break them.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

  And there it was. Why had she ever thought there was a chance this would work? Her father would never go out of his way to help her mother.

  “Dad, please,” she said, making one last Hail Mary. “I’m asking you to do it for me. Eric’s been trying to help her find her a new place, but they haven’t had any luck. She’s got to be out by the end of the month. We’re desperate.”

  “Listen, pumpkin…” It grated on her that her dad still called her pumpkin, like she was nine. Not so coincidentally, that’s how old she was when he last spent any real time around her. “This is your mother’s problem to solve, not yours, not Eric’s, and definitely not mine.”

  Esther sat on the couch. Her free hand squeezed the edge of the cushion in a death grip. “That’s great in theory, but it doesn’t stop Mom from ending up on the street.”

  “Your mother will get by. She always does. Once she realizes she can’t get someone to step in and do the hard work for her, she’ll figure something out for herself. That’s how she works.”

  “It’s different this time. You know what the rental market is like right now.”

  “There are plenty of people in the greater metro area getting by on modest salaries. If she wanted to make it work, she could.”

  “Spoken like someone who lives in Laurelhurst.”

  “Your mother made her own choices.”

  “She didn’t choose for you to leave her for your dental hygienist.” It was a low blow, but the low road seemed to be Esther’s preferred mode of transportation these days.

  “She had a very comfortable alimony from me,” her father replied, quietly terse. “No one forced her to marry and then divorce that painter, throwing it all away. Just like no one is keeping her from getting a full-time job to make ends meet. Those are her choices, and what’s happening now is the consequence of those choices.”

  Esther’s foot kicked the leg of the coffee table. “They’re not just her consequences though. They’re mine and Eric’s too, because we’re the ones left to take care of her.”

  Her father sighed the beleaguered sigh of someone who had spent years of his life taking care of her mother. “Your mother needs to stand on her own two feet. If we keep picking her up every time she falls down, she’ll never do it for herself. How do you think your mother got like this? Her parents babied and protected her, and then I picked up where they left off.”

  “And now I’m the one who’s supposed to turn my back on her?” Esther kicked the coffee table again. Hard enough to hurt this time.

  “I’m not saying it’s fair. But yes.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Maybe it is now, but believe me, it wasn’t easy when I left her. It wasn’t easy to extricate myself from her web of dependency, but that’s what I did, and it’s what you need to do now.”

  “Was it easier or harder than leaving me and Eric?” she said in a cold, flat voice.

  “Esther—”

  “Never mind, don’t answer that. Thanks anyway, Dad.” She ended the call before he could say anything else.

  It was just like she’d thought. She was on her own.

 
Chapter Twenty-Five

  Esther got up the next morning and got ready for work, determined to put everything except work out of her mind. She wasn’t going to think about any of that other stuff, because there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, she was going to focus like a laser on the one thing she could control: her job.

  Until she stepped out of her apartment and came face to face with Jonathan.

  Esther’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him. A bottle of laundry detergent dangled from one of his hands; the other clenched the doorknob of his apartment. He was wearing sweatpants and flip-flops, his hair fluffy and disheveled, his stretched-out T-shirt baggy on his frame.

  He stared at her, frozen. Eyes wide with horror. A marble sculpture entitled “An Unwelcome Encounter.”

  She’d been aching for a glimpse of him for days, but now that they’d come face to face, all she wanted to do was flee. She wished she could rewind time and take an extra few minutes leaving her apartment, so she’d never have to see the way he was looking at her right now.

  Esther’s mouth opened—to say what, she wasn’t sure—but before anything could come out, he recovered his motor control and went into his apartment without a word. She deflated like a punctured air mattress as the door slammed behind him.

  So much for focusing on work.

  She locked her apartment with a shaking hand and went down to her car, eyes locked straight ahead as she walked past his window. Her stomach did a small heave at the sight of his Lexus in the space next to hers. She got behind the wheel of her Prius and clenched the steering wheel with both fists, taking deep breaths until she could trust herself not to cry on the drive to work.

  She might need to move. Living in such close proximity to Jonathan was torment.

  An hour later, she sat at her desk with her headphones on, still haunted by the stark expression on his face.

  He’d looked like someone in agony. Like the very sight of her hurt him.

  That was what came of loving her. Pain and unhappiness.

  No. Enough.

  Fuck wallowing. There was nothing she could do about Jonathan, but she could damn well fix this problem with the project.