Page 20 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)
Chapter seventeen
Jonathan
I plug in the GPS coordinates for the glider I’m picking up today and steer the Pulse out toward the Gulf.
It was only a month ago that I was following this same path through the Rigolets into Lake Borgne and then through the Chandeleur Sound with Molly onboard with me.
The day she first opened up to me. The day I realized how strong my feelings for her were becoming. The day we almost kissed.
I imagined then what it would be like to kiss her for real, and last night I learned reality is better than my imagination.
Kissing Molly was a perfect moment. We have so few of those in life, don’t we? Moments where we’re intensely present, deliciously engaged, and thoroughly happy. When Molly kissed me, though, that’s where I was. I should have known it would be fleeting.
I should have seen this coming. I knew she was a flight risk. But she kissed me last night, and I thought all my problems were over, that I finally won her trust, and now we could be together.
Naive? Maybe. I prefer the term “optimistic.” I’m not feeling so hopeful now, though, more … confused. And hurt.
Alone on a boat in a vast expanse of water is either the best place to be in my state of mind, or the worst. The best because it’s gorgeous out here, and there’s really no bad time to be out on the water. The worst because it leaves a lot of time for thinking, reflecting, and obsessing.
For some reason, though, it’s my parents more so than Molly who are on my mind.
As much as I threw the “distraction” excuse at Molly this morning, haven’t the pranks, fieldwork, and my focus on Molly over the last couple of months been a distraction for me?
An excuse not to reflect too much on my dad’s upcoming wedding and my unresolved feelings around my parents’ divorce.
I still haven’t come to terms with either.
Last time I talked to her, Tamara suggested seeing a therapist to help me work through it.
It’s a good idea. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it years ago.
Probably because I’ve been living and working far from Ohio since my high school graduation and haven’t had any real reason to grapple with my childhood issues until now.
As I pilot the Pulse back to shore, I resolve to make an appointment. Nearing the marina, my phone starts going crazy with notifications. I glance at the screen, telling myself it’s not because I’m hoping Molly called or texted while I was out at sea today.
Mostly the notifications are from social media apps. I dock the boat, turning off the engine before I look more closely.
Interestingly, I have an email from Dr. Perron with the subject line “Opportunity.” I’m intrigued. The email itself gives a phone number, with Dr. Perron asking me to give him a call.
I pocket my phone and finish gathering the equipment and performing final inspections of the Pulse before putting her back in storage. We store the gliders here, too, so I need to hose down and dry off the one I brought in today.
When I finally return to my truck in the parking garage adjacent to the dock, I call Dr. Perron.
He picks up right away. “Derek Perron.”
I clear my throat. “Hi, Dr. Perron, it’s Jonathan Stanch. You asked me to give you a call?”
“Jonathan! Hello. Can I call you Jonathan?” He pushes forward without waiting for my answer. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you because I was impressed with how you comported yourself at the lab the other morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” I didn’t “comport” myself in any particular way as far as I’m aware. I was just trying to keep Molly out of trouble and make sure Dr. Gantt’s lab looked good.
His voice slips into a confidential tone. “There’s an … opportunity that’s come up in another lab that I want to discuss with you.”
“Okay. What kind of opportunity?” I love working on Dr. Gantt’s team, but with my feelings for Molly and her rejection this morning, I can’t help but think a change might be a good idea. It doesn’t hurt to hear more.
“Can you meet me tomorrow for dinner? There’s a place on Conti Street. I’ll send you the details.”
I hesitate. Conti Street is known for its nightlife and bars, especially on Saturday nights. It doesn’t have quite as wild a reputation as Bourbon Street, but it’s not a likely choice for a business meeting. “What time?”
“Around six thirty, if you’re available.”
That’s early enough that whatever restaurant or bar Dr. Perron has in mind won’t be too lively yet. “Sure, I can do that. I appreciate you thinking of me.”
“Great! I’ll text you the details.”
“Looking forward to it, sir.”
We hang up, and I wonder what kind of opportunity would have Dr. Perron speaking so vaguely and wanting to meet on a Saturday night on Conti Street.
I don’t know Dr. Perron well, only that he’s been the dean of the college for the past five years and tends to watch the research projects happening in the College of Coast and Environment at NOSU a little too closely, in a way that implies he doesn’t trust the principal investigators, the PIs, who are in charge of the labs.
He gets antsy when a lab hasn’t produced any flashy findings that can be touted to the press.
I’m not savvy enough to understand the larger political landscape of the colleges and departments at NOSU. I just want to keep my head down and pilot boats. If Dr. Perron’s mysterious “opportunity” can help me do that farther away from Molly Delaney, all the better for my heart.
Saturday evening, I opt for jeans and a dress shirt for my meeting with Dr. Perron at a bar.
Conti Street is in downtown New Orleans, and the restaurant where Dr. Perron asked me to meet him is near Jackson Square.
Even though I live in Metairie rather than New Orleans proper, it’s only a twenty-minute drive.
Parking is a challenge though; I pay to park in a garage and walk the last half a block to the bar.
When I arrive, Dr. Perron is already sitting at a tall pub table with a bottle of locally-brewed beer in front of him. The place is busy, but it looks like it’s still a normal dinner crowd. I hold my hand up in greeting as I sit across from Dr. Perron.
A server materializes out of nowhere. “Something to drink?”
“Ah, just a root beer, please.” I don’t have anything against drinking; it just feels weird when I’m meeting with my boss’s boss. This isn’t exactly a night out on the town.
As the server disappears again, Dr. Perron shakes my hand across the table. “Jonathan! How’s your Saturday going?”
“Pretty good,” I lie. Was rejected by the woman of my dreams yesterday, so, you know, two thumbs up.
“Good, good. Did you eat yet?” He takes a swig from his beer bottle.
I force a smile. “I can always eat.”
He hands me a menu, and I look at the options: typical bar-and-grill fare with a lot of local flavor.
I haven’t had much of an appetite today.
When the server comes back with my root beer, I order some chicken wings and fries.
Dr. Perron orders red beans and rice, which of course makes me think of Molly.
Who am I kidding? Everything makes me think of Molly.
“So,” I start, hoping to prompt Dr. Perron to cut to the chase.
“So, tell me about your research interests.”
I talk a bit about my PhD topic—the ecological consequences of urbanization on marine life—then about the research teams I’ve been on the last few years. “To be honest, Dr. Perron, mostly I like being in the water or on the water. Fieldwork is my favorite part.”
He nods his head. “Call me Derek, please.”
“Okay.” Feels unnatural, but fine.
The restaurant is getting more crowded, with new groups of people coming in and sitting at the bar. A live band starts setting up in one corner, and the mood grows festive. I’m not at all in the right headspace for any of it.
Dr. Perron leans in, so I mimic his movement, leaning my forearms against the table. “Listen, we are on the cusp of receiving a large grant to research blue carbon offsetting. I’m looking for a PI to head things up. That could be you.”
I frown. “Carbon offsetting?” It’s a practice in which large corporations try to compensate for their greenhouse gas emissions through projects that supposedly remove equivalent amounts of carbon dioxide from the environment.
Blue carbon offsetting is more specific to coastal wetlands, with corporations funding projects to compensate for carbon in the ocean, like restoring mangroves or seagrasses.
Blue carbon offsetting has been gaining popularity, but there are still questions about how effective it is and how much is just corporate posturing.
“Yessir. Could be huge for the university and for your career. What do you think?”
“What’s the funding organization?” I start to ask when my phone pings, and I’m distracted by a text message. “Uh, you know what? I’m so sorry, Dr. Perron, but I have to go. Can we talk more about this another time? Bit of an emergency.” I gesture to my phone.
Dr. Perron holds up his hand. “Sure thing. I’m interested in bringing you in for this, though. Let’s talk details another time.”
I pull out my wallet to cover my root beer and uneaten food, but Dr. Perron waves me away. “I’ve got it,” he says with a wink. “Business expense.”
I nod my thanks and speed toward the door holding my phone to my ear.