Page 35 of Love Below Zero

35

BOOK REVIEWS

BECKY

Joanna became the farm’s unofficial handyman these last few days. Anything that needed fixing, from the tap in the guest bathroom to the window in the living room that wouldn’t close properly, she was there to take care of it. Which is why she’s currently under the sink in the kitchen, trying to fix a leak I didn’t even know we had.

I’m doing my best to write. Turning in a shitty draft is better than turning in nothing, at this point.

A loud thump comes from under the sink and I look over. Joanna is scrambling out of the cupboard, rubbing her head, her eyes wild.

“Go to YouTube, now.”

I roll my eyes at her, typing away. “I don’t need to see another Vine compilation. There’s not enough space in my brain to hold all of them.” I’m already going “road work ahead, uhm yeah, I sure hope it does” multiple times a day. It’s not healthy.

“No, you idiot, just do it.” She slides into the chair next to me and I sigh, pulling up the browser. The internet takes a while to load, but as soon as the thumbnail appears on screen, I stiffen.

It’s the first video on the page, and already has well over one hundred thousand views.

Science in Science-Fiction by reidmorescifi

Let’s talk about the Traverse Galaxy series

He uploaded a video. My heart sinks. He promised he wouldn’t review any more of my books.

The covers of my books, along with his handsome bespectacled face, make up the thumbnail. His expression is serious, the one I know by now as his scientist face. Did he change his mind? Is this video a very elaborate way of telling me he’s breaking up with me?

“What are you waiting for? Press play!” Jojo is practically vibrating in her seat from excitement.

“I don’t think I can watch this.”

Her face softens, and she turns the laptop screen away from me. “Do you want me to watch it first?”

I nod. My entire body feels heavy. I’m trying very hard not to let my mind run away with me. James isn’t the kind of person who would break up with me over a YouTube video. It’s a ridiculous thought. He texted me two days ago to tell me that his talk with Frances went well, so it isn’t that.

But he didn’t reply to my text from this morning, and that is unusual. Did he hear from Oxford? What if he didn’t get the job and that sent him spiralling? His anxiety causes him to withdraw, and I’m trying to maintain the space I put between us, but what if he decided that this is just too hard?

Jojo puts in her earphones before hitting play on the video. We sit in tense silence for a few minutes before a Cheshire Cat grin spreads over her face.

“You’re going to want to watch this.” She slides the laptop back towards me, removing her earphones. I take a deep breath before restarting the video.

His face pops up on the screen and my heart immediately wants to bolt out of my chest and run straight to him. He’s so handsome it hurts. His tie is crooked, his hair sticking up, and he’s wearing that fucking smile that shows off his laugh lines in full force.

How are people not lining up in the streets to date him? It hits me then, with the force of a planet-killing asteroid, that this man is the most important thing in the world to me. It baffles me that his ex gave him up over something as petty as a job. It baffles me that I was so close to doing the same.

I am a fucking idiot.

Life is so short, and I don’t want to spend another second of it without him.

“I’m back from Mars, and as you can see, I survived being locked in with Rebecca Baxter, author of the Traverse Galaxy series.” He holds up my books. “For those of you that are unaware, Rebecca and I have had some ... disagreements since my review of her first book. I’ve since deleted that video, as it doesn’t accurately reflect my opinions anymore. I made a promise never to review these books again, and I’m not planning on making a habit of breaking promises, but I have to set things right.”

My breathing stops.

“These books are some of the best books I’ve ever read. Is the science a little wonky in some areas? Sure, and we’ll get to that later, but first I have to apologise. ”

He looks into the camera like he’s looking directly at me.

“I never saw these books for what they really were—a celebration of what it meant to be human. The characters are messy and imperfect, but they’re real, and they taught me so many things. Rebecca, you have been terribly brave. Writing these books, standing up for women in science fiction and in science, giving people hope. These books are incredible, and you deserve to know just how big of an impact they’ve made.”

Tears are running down my cheeks, but I don’t care. The screen fills with reviews, rapid fire clips of other YouTubers gushing about how much they love my books, how much the books mean to them. James then proceeds to do extensive reviews of books one, two, and three, showing where I got the science wrong but also where I got it right. He shows off his annotated editions, and at the end talks a little about our experience in the dome.

He might not have said I love you out loud in the video, but the entire thing is clearly a love letter. To me, to the Traverse Galaxy, to our story. The comments are already speculating if there’s more going on between us. I don’t care.

I rewind the video, watching it again. My emotions are all over the place. I want to laugh and cry, but most importantly, I want to go to the airport, get on a plane, and go back to where I belong.

Joanna hands me a tissue. “Well shit, I didn’t know Dexter had it in him.”

I loudly blow my nose, already reaching for my phone. A text from James waits for me.

Doctor Dick 3

I had to right my wrongs, but I promise there will be no more videos from here on out. Forgive me?

I send back a reply.

Me

Always. I love you.

“I owe Eli another ten bucks,” Joanna scoffs.

I slap her shoulder. “You still have bets going?”

She nods. “We had money on how long it would take you two to fess up that you’re together after leaving the dome.”

I should be annoyed, but instead my whole body is vibrating with the need to move . I feel like I can run all the way to London.

“You’re going to tell me everything, by the way,” she says as she takes over the laptop, fingers flying over the keys. When she turns the screen back to me, it shows several flight options.

“I’ll tell you on the plane.”

The flight back to the UK is uneventful. Joanna made me tell her the whole story, so I didn’t get much writing done, but afterward I felt a lot lighter. Now everyone who’s important to me knows, and I have nothing left to hide. We say goodbye when we get off the plane, as she’s catching another flight to New York in a couple of hours.

James is the first person my eyes land on when I step through the arrivals gate at Heathrow. It knocks the breath right out of me. He’s holding a bouquet of proteas, looking like a nervous school kid about to ask his crush to prom. My heart aches at the sight of him. I adjust the strap of my backpack, tightening my hold on the handle of my suitcase, before walking toward him.

It takes all my willpower not to throw myself at him. The airport is busy and crowded. He’s probably on edge and I don’t want to make it worse. So I walk to him, like a normal person. But the inside of my brain looks like that SpongeBob meme where everything is on fire and everyone is screaming.

His face lights up when he finally sees me, and it’s like the clouds part to reveal the sun.

All my life I’ve been told that having a bigger body makes me undesirable. That there is just something wrong with me. But James looks at me with so much love and open adoration, it’s easy to let the voices of the past drown out.

Before I can even say anything, he sweeps me into a hug, the scent of coffee and books enveloping me. Home. This is home.

“Hi,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Hi,” he echoes back, squeezing me tighter.

“You’re squishing the flowers,” I laugh, but I don’t let go.

“Don’t care. You’re here.”

I turn my head, catching his lips in a soft kiss before I can stop myself. He kisses me back, his free hand gripping my hip. The simple touch sends a wildfire burning through me. I really am not above making out with him in the arrivals hall. I’m sure it’s seen much worse, but I don’t want to linger here for long. We slowly disentangle, and he holds out the proteas.

“Where did you even get these?” I never told him they were my favourite flower, but he must have guessed they would remind me of South Africa.

“I had to drive to two nurseries, but it was worth it.” He takes my backpack and my suitcase before lacing our hands together and leading me out of the airport.

We’re going to spend the weekend at my apartment before he goes back to work and I continue writing. The words are coming a little easier after his video, and I’m now making decent progress.

“Have you heard from Oxford?” I ask as we pull out of the parking garage. His car is exactly how I imagined it. A black Range Rover with soft leather seats that smells faintly of books. It’s clean as a whistle, his work bag placed neatly on the back seat. It’s so quintessentially British of him that I feel the need to sip Earl Grey and steal the natural resources of third-world countries.

“I did,” he says, gaze focused on the road. I turn in my seat to face him.

“Are you going to elaborate on that?”

“They offered me the position.”

I squeal, throwing my arms around him. Well, as much as I can with my seatbelt holding me back. He laughs, patting one of my arms while still keeping his gaze firmly on the road. He’s a cautious driver. It’s cute as hell.

“I knew it! They would be idiots not to hire you. Congrats, Professor! When do you start?”

His gaze briefly flickers to me before returning to the road. His smile is infectious .

“Only in September. I want plenty of time to get my affairs in order, and I want to spend the summer with you.”

My stomach flips at the idea of spending the summer with him. I can just picture it—long lazy days on a beach somewhere, mornings snuggled beneath the sheets. But that will only happen if I finish this damn book.

“More than just the summer, I hope?”

“A lifetime, love. But we’ll start with the summer.”

I spend the rest of the drive telling him about Traverse four, asking for his input on the scenes I’m still struggling with. He tells me about Oxford and everything he’ll be doing at his new job. Talking to him like this is so natural, so easy. We still bicker though, this time about my wonky biology.

“Beings who evolved exclusively under water would have a harder time leaving the planet’s surface. They likely wouldn’t be space-faring.”

“Fine. But they also might be better suited to space travel because of the underwater thing. Their bones would be lighter, which gives them an advantage in zero gravity.”

“But that also means they won’t be able to withstand the escape velocity needed to get to space,” he points out, turning onto my street. “The g-force alone would probably kill them.”

He parks, switching off the car. I make a move to open the door, but he leans across me and pulls it shut. “Sit still, Rebecca.”

His tone is firm, sending a small thrill racing up my spine. He gets out of the car, walking over to my side before pulling open the door.

“Are you going to open the door for me for the rest of our lives, Doctor Reid?” I ask, sliding out of the car. I mean for it to be sarcasm. I should be objecting to that kind of chivalry, as it perpetrated the misconception that women can’t do anything for themselves. But fuck it, I like having doors opened for me.

“Yes,” he says simply, heading for the back of the car to grab my suitcase.

“What if they evolved to withstand the g-force?” I return to my alien questions.

“How?” He shuts the boot and we make our way inside.

“Midi-chlorians?”

He blinks at me as I open the door to my apartment. If he could throttle me Homer and Bart Simpson style right now, he probably would. The idea of his hands around my neck sends a rush of heat through me, and I have to look away from him as I step inside.

“Midi-chlorians,” he grumbles behind me, pulling my suitcase into the apartment and shutting the door. “I’ll find you some papers on alien life and underwater planets. You are not using midi-chlorians in your books.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Don’t start, Baxter.” He sets my backpack down on the kitchen counter, taking in the place. It’s exactly as I left it, but also not. It’s like someone broke in and moved all my furniture one centimetre to the left. It feels off, but in reality I’m the one who changed, not my apartment.

Mac made sure there’s some food in the fridge, and a box of brownies sits on the counter. My mouth waters at the sight of them.

She’ll be dropping off Mr Spock tomorrow. I hope he isn’t too mad at me for leaving him for four months.

“So ...” I say, popping open the box of brownies and stuffing one into my mouth. “What should we do for the rest of the day?”

He closes the distance between us, reaching out to drag his thumb across my cheek. It comes away covered in chocolate. He brings it up to his mouth, eyes locked on mine as he sucks the chocolate off his finger. I almost choke on the brownie.

“I might have some ideas.”

I bet he does. I’m going to take him up on every single one of them.