Page 117 of Tripped By Love

I shook my head. “No. You want someone who will be your sidekick. Someone who will want all the same things you do and work toward them at your side.”

“Sure. That’s what partners?life partnersandscience partners?do for each other.”

His parents were coauthors of almost every scientific study they did. Their byline was a joint one. You rarely saw one without the other on paper or in life. I couldn’t imagine my science being tied that closely to someone else’s. And I certainly had no interest in making theStar Trek-like medical scanners Silas wanted to create.

“Silas, neither of us even want to work on the same things,” I told him. “I get excited when you talk about your project because I’m excited for you. I’m excited about the science behind it. But if I had to work on scanners for the rest of my days, I’d probably want to give up science altogether,” I told him.

He scrubbed his chin. He rarely had stubble on it. He was one of those guys whose beard grew slowly, and even then, he still shaved every day without fail to keep it off. Unbidden, more thoughts of Dawson, the last time I’d seen him, filled me. It had been at Christmas, and I’d woken up to soft laughter—Nell’s tiny jingle and his deep barrel one as they tried to be quiet. And when I’d come out of the guest bedroom at Truck and Jersey’s place, it was to find Dawson in sweats and a T-shirt tickling our niece. Thick brown stubble had coated his cheeks and his chin, and Nell had complained about it.

Whereas I’d thought it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

I’d hated my reaction to him at the same time I’d loved seeing them together.

For months now, I’d pushed those sorts of images aside, determined to believe that Silas’s smooth-shaven skin was better, but my body knew the truth.

“We don’t have to work on the same project to support each other. To love each other,” Silas said, but I heard the concession in his voice. The giving in.

“You shouldn’t have to give up what you want to be with someone,” I told him.

He nodded slowly, agreeing when he didn’t want to agree.

The back door opened, and Leena leaned out. “Hey, Violet, before you come in, can you get the extra bowl of fruit salad from the refrigerator in the garage?”

“Sure!” I hollered back and got up.

Silas followed me. I opened the side door of the garage, walking without thought to the refrigerator that Mandy and Leena used for overflow. I’d just taken the bowl out and turned around when the sink by the door caught my attention.

I twirled, taking in the whole space. The natural light from the dormers above the car doors. The gardening tools hung from the walls on neat pegs with metal shelving. It was neat and tidy. A big space that fit the minivan Mandy and Leena shared these days with plenty of room to spare.

It was plumbed and had electricity. With a good sterilization and some plastic, I could easily make it into exactly what I needed.

“Vi?” Silas asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Holy shit,” I said. “Can you see it?”

“See what?” he frowned.

“The lab I could make here!” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice. It flipped the switch inside me that had been low and pensive back to joyful expectation. Raisa was right. I could absolutely, one hundred percent, do the initial proofs for my antimicrobial in a homemade lab. I didn’t need millions of dollars. I might need a few thousand. It would empty my nest egg and max out my credit cards, but I could absolutely do it.

Silas’s eyes widened as he took in the space himself. “Sure. I guess you could…but…why would you want to?”

Relief and joy hit me at the same time. The weight of indecision that had been hanging on me since getting the third rejection from the nanoparticle lab committee lifted.

“I’m not going back. To Stanford. To the doctoral program. I’m going to make my antimicrobial and sell it toGrâce Charmante. Right here. Right from home.”

“Are you really serious?” he asked, confusion and disappointment littering his tone.

“Yes. If Mandy and Leena let me, I’ll do it here. If they don’t, I’ll figure something out.” I didn’t have a clue where I could get another space as good for pretty much free. The cost of the equipment and materials was going to stretch me to the limit as it was. I couldn’t afford rent on top of it.

Coming back for Dad’s funeral hadn’t impacted me in the normal way losing a parent should have. It hadn’t made me cry and grieve for a dad I’d never see again. But in the end, it still had changed everything.

Chapter Four - Dawson

DEATH OF ME

“Another day, another battle.

We all have a cage to rattle,