Page 36 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)
Chapter twenty-nine
Molly
T he next morning, we need to be up, dressed, and at the conference registration desk by eight. Jonathan must have woken up even earlier than me, because he knocks on my door with an orange juice and croissant that he picked up for me at the hotel cafe downstairs.
“Stop reading my mind!” I tease, grateful for the boost the orange juice will give me.
“Never.” He grins, and we walk toward the elevator.
The croissant is no beignet, but it’s good, and I can probably do without the extra sugar making me feel wired today anyway.
We check in and get our badges, along with a printed-out copy of the conference program.
Once conferences go to mobile apps for their programs, I don’t understand why they continue to print a copy for every attendee and include it in their welcome packet.
Most of us will be accessing it on our phones anyway.
However, I’m grateful for the solid, professionally-printed program this time. My name is in it! I may collect discarded copies from the other attendees to bring to my family at Thanksgiving next week.
As Jonathan and I step away from the registration desk, the first thing I do is find the Friday lineup and scan for my name.
I actually spot Jonathan’s name first, as the second author listed right after mine.
It even says, Invited Presentation instead of Accepted Presentation , broadcasting that the conference organizers reached out to us , not the other way around.
I’ve presented at conferences before, of course, but this presentation—this project—is special.
It aligns with my own research interests, rather than only those of the lab’s PI.
It developed as a side project out of my own brain.
Possibly most importantly, I worked on it with Jonathan.
Also, it doesn’t hurt that our results are generating a lot of interest from our colleagues.
Jonathan leans over my program and taps my name.
“Look at that. ‘Molly Delaney, PhD, New Orleans State University.’ I can say I knew you when.” He pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, but underneath the theatrics I know how genuinely proud of me he is.
He’s only told me about a hundred times.
The feeling is mutual. I tap his name. Jonathan P. Stanch, PhD, New Orleans State University . “Right next to mine.”
He grabs my hand and brings it to his lips. “As it should be.”
I chuckle and redirect him. We are here to work, after all, not canoodle. Though there’s always time for that later…
Jonathan and I compare notes on which sessions we each plan to attend today.
While Dr. Gantt made it clear that our top priority at the conference is to present on our project, and she doesn’t expect us to report back on the sessions we attend, the CERA conference is full of other scientists and students who get excited about the same nerdy stuff we do.
I have a long list of presentations I want to learn from, and Jonathan does, too.
I plan to attend a session on seagrass restoration, while Jonathan decides to brush up on blue carbon offsetting, just in case he decides to take the job Dr. Perron is offering. We agree to meet for lunch and take off in separate directions.
After spending all day yesterday together, even this short morning apart feels brutal. We keep up an ongoing text conversation as we sit through the sessions.
Jonathan:
I hope our presentation won’t be as boring as this one. Seriously, I’m falling asleep, and I didn’t even stay up late last night
Molly:
Too bad for you. I just learned about an ecological modeling program to predict eutrophication
Molly:
So I’m happy
Jonathan:
Cough. NERD. Cough.
Molly:
You love it
Jonathan:
I absolutely do
Molly:
Now shush so I can pay attention [wink face emoji]
Jonathan:
I’m not making any noise! I hope your phone is on silent
Molly:
My phone is never not on silent
An hour later in the second session of the morning, he texts again.
Jonathan:
What do you want for lunch?
Molly:
Are you hungry already?
Jonathan:
I’m never not hungry
Finally, the break for “lunch on your own” arrives. I find Jonathan, and we head outside where several food trucks are waiting. We choose a truck that serves corn dogs, chicken tenders, and other comfort foods. The line’s long, but it moves quickly.
Almost everyone from the conference is out here in this courtyard for lunch. I can tell by the name badges everyone is still wearing on lanyards around their necks, including me.
As we wait, a middle-aged woman with long black hair approaches me. Her dark-blue suit looks too formal for this setting—or maybe I’m underdressed? I look around and see that no, my business casual is right on par with what most everyone is wearing.
“Hi, Dr. Delaney?”
“Yes,” I confirm, taking a step back.
“I saw your name badge and had to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Almay Jones. I’m the deputy director at the Hollings Marine Laboratory at the National Centers for Coastal Ocean Science in Charleston, South Carolina.”
I glance quickly at Jonathan and feel his hand settle on the small of my back, calming my nerves.
I take a steadying breath. “Hi, Dr. Jones. It’s so nice to meet you,” I manage to get out.
The National Centers for Coastal Ocean Science is the arm of NOAA—the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration—that focuses on coastal stewardship.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” she enthuses. “Harmful algal bloom monitoring and mitigation is a huge area of interest for us. I’m looking forward to your presentation on Friday.”
“Thank you,” I stammer. One of the heads of a major research organization stopped to talk to me? And wants to see our presentation? My brain starts reeling with what this could mean for my career and everything that’s riding on a good presentation on Friday.
Jonathan presses his fingers into my back to remind me that he’s here. “Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Jones, this is Dr. Jonathan Stanch, my … co-researcher.”
Jonathan pulls his hand from my back to shake Dr. Jones’s. I immediately mourn the loss of his touch, which was helping me feel more confident talking to Dr. Jones.
“Ah, the fieldwork director. Very important job,” she says, smiling. “I’ll let you two get back to your lunch, but I’ll see you at your presentation.”
“Thank you! Nice meeting you,” I call as she walks away.
I turn to Jonathan, who’s giving me major side-eye. “So, I’m back to being just your co-researcher, huh?” The corners of his lips quirk in a way that tells me he’s trying not to smile.
I shove his shoulder. “No, of course not. But ‘co-researcher’ seems like a more appropriate title to use than ‘boyfriend’ in this setting.”
“Sure. I see how it is.” He sniffles showily, and when I try to take his hand, he pulls it away. “No, no. You can’t just be holding hands with a co-researcher! What will the pearl-clutchers say?”
I put a hand on my hip. “Jonathan.”
He echoes my posture. “Molly.” When I roll my eyes, he laughs and pulls me against his chest. “Seriously, though. That was cool! I mean, the deputy director of the Hollings Lab introducing herself to you?”
“It’s a big deal,” I admit. “It feels like there’s a lot at stake with this presentation.”
He squeezes me in a hug. “It will be great. I know it.”
Nicole:
Presentation day! Good luck!
Nicole:
Oh, I forgot about the time difference. Am I texting too early?
Molly:
You would think so, considering it’s 6 a.m. here, but I’ve been up for an hour
Olivia:
Ugh, why are you both blowing up my phone so early? It’s only 8
Nicole:
You’ll do great, Molly!
Nicole:
Thanks for sending the picture of the program yesterday. It was so cool seeing your name!
Molly:
Yes!