Page 23 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)

Chapter nineteen

Jonathan

I walk up the stairs to the lab on Monday morning with Molly Delaney on the brain. So what else is new?

My first big plan—to win Molly over—was a success, I would say. After less than two months, she no longer hates me. In fact, she likes me, maybe more than likes me if I’m reading between the lines correctly. So, my new big plan is to help Molly Delaney love herself.

When we were standing in that empty hallway outside her apartment, and Molly admitted that she doesn’t believe love is meant for her? It broke me. Molly’s amazing, and I’m not sure how she doesn’t know that. Any man in his right mind would want to be with her. I know I do.

So, I broke into her apartment yesterday.

Well, is it really “breaking in” if you have the key?

I entered her apartment with the key she gave me, and I left her a note.

And I plan to do it again today and every day as long as it takes, even if I use up each one of the three thousand something sticky notes left from when Molly covered my cubicle.

She needs to see herself the way I see her: beautiful, bold, creative, nurturing, dedicated … I could go on.

Even if she never reconsiders us being together, I desperately want her to believe she’s worthy of an amazing partner—someone who loves, respects, and supports her—if she wants one.

And if she doesn’t want a partner, I’d like to know she’s making that choice because it’s what she really wants, not what she thinks she deserves.

I swivel my head to check Molly’s cubicle as I move toward mine. She’s not here yet. Will she be mad about the sticky note? Acknowledge it, or me, at all?

I don’t have time to dwell too much on her reaction.

I have a meeting with Dr. Gantt this morning about the ocean gliders.

Three of the five in our fleet are currently sitting in storage at the dry dock in Slidell, ready for their next missions.

We need to decide what we want those to be.

The consistent data from the Gulf are valuable to track baseline information and even trends over time, but we need to do more to make the gliders worth the investment.

I hope Dr. Gantt has some ideas, because I haven’t come up with anything yet.

I settle into a chair in Dr. Gantt’s office. Instead of jumping right into talking about the gliders, she starts us off with another topic.

“How is Dr. Delaney doing with the fieldwork?” she asks, leaning her chair back slightly as she regards me from across the desk.

I swallow uncomfortably. “Great,” I answer honestly. “She’s a natural. She settled right in, and we work together well.”

Dr. Gantt narrows her eyes. “I’m looking at your face, and I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“ But ,” I start, shooting her a smile, “I think I work better solo, and Dr. Delaney has probably learned enough about the fieldwork processes by now, right?”

I clasp my hands together in my lap and then unclasp them and try to slide them in my pockets.

I’m fidgeting. I can’t tell Dr. Gantt the real reason Molly won’t work with me anymore.

Yeah, so after a string of super unprofessional pranks we played on each other right here in the lab, the last of which almost resulted in our team losing funding, Dr. Delaney and I kissed in the parking lot, and then she freaked out because a relationship is so outside of her comfort zone, and now I’m wallowing and pining, and she’s back to following her strict life rules .

I’m sure that explanation would inspire our boss’s confidence in us.

“You don’t want Dr. Delaney to work with you anymore?” Actually, I desperately want Dr. Delaney to do everything with me forever, but it’s not up to me.

I rub my chin. “That’s not exactly what I meant—”

Before I can finish the thought—fortunately, because I have no idea what I’m going to say—the door to Dr. Gantt’s office bangs open, and a disheveled Molly stands in the doorway.

Her hair is wet, slicked back into a messy ponytail. She’s wearing yoga pants as normal, but her T-shirt is inside out and backward. Dark circles rim her eyes, and I wonder if she slept at all last night.

I jump to my feet in concern. Is this because of me?

Even as I stand, I notice further details. She’s clutching a notebook in her hands; it’s flipped open to a page filled with calculations and notes in her sloppy handwriting. Her eyes, though tired, are bright. Her expression is one of excitement and determination.

Dr. Gantt also stands up. “Dr. Delaney! This is a private meeting.”

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but you have to hear this. It’s the breakthrough we’ve been looking for!”

Dr. Gantt and I exchange a look, and she props a hand on her hip. “Well, I’m intrigued.” She smiles and gestures Molly forward into the room.

Molly closes the office door behind her and takes a seat in the chair next to me. She’s practically buzzing with energy as she sets her notebook on Dr. Gantt’s desk.

“There’s a hurricane coming, probably. Hopefully!” A laugh bubbles up out of her mouth like she can’t stop it. Her cheeks turn pink.

“Hey,” I say soothingly, laying my hand on top of hers. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Molly turns her head and meets my eyes. She takes a deep breath, in and out, and faces forward. “I’d like to send the ocean gliders out before the hurricane to collect data in real-time as it passes through.”

I sit back in my chair. She told me she was working on proving a correlation between hurricanes and red tide outbreaks. I can see how live data that track the properties of the water in the Gulf before, during, and after a hurricane would be useful. Even potentially game-changing.

Dr. Gantt tilts her head, her braids swinging with the motion. “Tell me more,” she prompts.

Molly explains her hypothesis that the changes tropical storms and hurricanes cause in the ocean, or in this case, the Gulf, might be so severe as to create conditions for outbreaks of harmful algal blooms. “I created and ran a data model that compared our Gulf water samples from the last two years with weather data. It showed a statistically significant correlation between hurricanes, or even just tropical storms, and the conditions for an outbreak.”

Dr. Gantt smiles, clearly catching on to the idea. “So, if we deploy the gliders during the upcoming hurricane, we could see in real time how the storm changes the water.”

“Exactly.”

Dr. Gantt drums her fingertips on the desk. “It’s a risk though. Gliders are expensive equipment. Could they be damaged?” She looks at me.

I clear my throat. “Of course it’s possible, but—”

“But there’s documentation of gliders at sea during storms. NOAA uses them to collect data to help improve hurricane forecasts.

A university in Florida left a glider out unintentionally during a category four storm last season.

They set it to avoid surfacing to send data until the storm passed.

It was safer underwater. It survived, and it was the same model we have. ”

“But they didn’t use their data to make any connections with red tide?” Dr. Gantt asks.

“No, it wasn’t their focus. But it is ours.” Molly wears a hopeful expression as she answers Dr. Gantt’s questions.

Dr. Gantt turns to me. “What do you think, Dr. Stanch?”

I don’t hesitate. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” I respond with a grin. “Let’s do it.”

Molly squeals and claps her hands. Dr. Gantt breaks in.

“Okay, okay, it’s not a done deal. We still have safety to consider.

We’ll want the gliders as close to the center of the storm as possible, but we might not know where that is until just a few days out.

Can we safely launch the gliders before the storm gets too close? ”

Molly points to the calculations in her notebook. “I’ve been watching the forecasts and, yes, based on the current expected track and speed, we should be able to go out and deploy the gliders using the Pulse before the water gets too rough.”

Dr. Gantt frowns. “Do we have to deploy them by boat? Why not on the shore, and program them to travel into place?”

I shake my head. “It would take too long. If we launched the gliders from the dock, it could take them days to get into position. They wouldn’t be ready in time for the storm.”

“What timeline are we looking at then?”

Molly jumps in. “Right now, Hernando is forecasted to make landfall, probably in or near New Orleans, late on Thursday. That gives us roughly three days. The track should be more predictable by tomorrow night after Hernando passes over Cuba into the Gulf. If we deploy the gliders Wednesday, we have the best chance of accurate positioning and a safe voyage.”

“Okay, then. I’m officially green-lighting this expedition with the caveat that it must be done safely. If anything changes significantly, let’s come back together and reevaluate.”

I bounce my right knee, my foot slapping the floor in a way that reminds me of a dog during a satisfying scratch behind the ears. I’m fidgety now for a whole different reason. This is going to be so much fun.

“Now, what kind of team do you need?” Dr. Gantt continues. “Dr. Stanch will obviously pilot the Pulse . You’ll want at least one other person with you on Wednesday. Then when the data start coming through, you can have all the grad students at your disposal, Dr. Delaney.”

“I’m going with Jonathan on the boat Wednesday,” Molly throws in.

Dr. Gantt and I both freeze and turn our attention to Molly. “Really?” I ask, at the same time Dr. Gantt prompts, “Are you sure?”

Molly focuses her eyes on mine, her lips pressed together firmly. She lifts her chin, a glint in her eye. “I’m not missing this.”

Why does my heart pound with the hope that she means more than just a boat ride?

Over the next day and a half, I live out all my old Twister dreams as Molly and I learn everything we can about soon-to-be Hurricane Hernando.

Granted, tornadoes and hurricanes are vastly different—strong, rotating winds really being their only similarity—but the vibe’s the same, the rush of facing off against Mother Nature and the risk of losing it all.

As Molly watches for track developments in the forecast, I focus on preparing the gliders.

I notice when an email comes in from Dr. Perron on Monday, but I don’t have time to do more than skim the message.

It’s crunch time on possibly the most significant breakthrough of my career, and, more importantly, Molly’s.

With all the activity, there’s really no time for Molly and me to talk, though I do make it to her apartment each day to leave a note on her refrigerator.

On Monday, I wrote “You make the impossible look effortless” on a blue sticky note.

And today on my way to Slidell to make sure all three gliders in storage there are functioning properly and ready for a new mission, I stop by her apartment and leave a red one that says, “You meet challenges with courage and strength.”

She hasn’t mentioned the notes to me, but I know she’s seen them because she moves them.

When I stick the third note, the first two are sort of diagonal to each other, lined up bottom right corner to top left corner.

I don’t know if she has an end goal in mind for their placement, but I like the idea that she sees a note, maybe, hopefully, it makes her smile, and then she unsticks it and carefully sets it in place.

As expected, after Hernando passes over Cuba into the Gulf on Tuesday night, the spaghetti models start to align.

By Wednesday morning, the probability is high that Hernando will intensify into a Category 1 hurricane before the end of the day and then slowly move toward New Orleans, making landfall here Thursday night.