Page 27 of Love in the Lab
I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, but her half-scowl, half-smile is everything. I shrug. “Okay.”
She shakes her head. “Anyway, I need to get back to work.” She stands, and I immediately mourn the loss of her body heat on my arm. She hesitates before turning to walk away. “Jonathan?” she says, her voice soft.
I meet her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
Her expression is serene—her eyelids languid, her cheeks the same pink as her lips.Not as beautiful as you, I think. What I say is, “You’re welcome.”
I google Gilbert Blythe later, and yeah, I see the resemblance. I also see that this Gilbert character has quite a few fandoms dedicated to him and his good looks, so I’ll take it. That’s a win in my book.
That night I’m cleaning up after dinner when my phone rings. It’s Tamara.
“Can’t you just text me like a normal person?” I ask when I accept the call.
“No. You can hide too much in texts. I need to hear the tone of your voice, so I know what you’re thinking.”
I grimace. “Creepy, Tams.”
“Are you coming home for Christmas?” My sister is not one to beat around the bush.
“I don’t know yet.” I’m still trying to figure out how to get out of the whole thing. I flop onto the couch with a soft grunt and close my eyes.
I hear her frustrated sigh clearly over the phone. “Dad doesn’t want to get married without you.”
“Then he shouldn’t get married,” I mutter.
“Well, he might not if you can’t stop being a brat. This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Mom. Dad and Sharon love each other and want to get married.”
I don’t say anything. I know Tamara is making sense, and I know I’m acting childish. I’m not sure how to turn it off.
“Jonny,” she continues in a gentler tone. “You are sweet and charming and thoughtful and way too personable. You’re good at your job and responsible and smart. You are a good man. But you have this emotional block when it comes to Dad. Frankly, you’re a jerk to him. He notices, and it breaks his heart.”
Guilt constricts my chest like a vise around a tomato. She’s right. I know she’s right. My sister is always right. “I hear you. Is scolding me the only reason you called?”
“No. Tell me about this woman.”
I freeze. “What woman?”
“The coworker you got so flustered about the last time we talked. What’s going on with her?”
“Nothing,” I answer truthfully, because as much as I wish there was something going on with Molly, she’s not there yet.
“Ah ha! So you know exactly who I’m talking about. What’s her name? What’s your plan?”
“I don’t have a plan. It’s … complicated. Molly’s my coworker, and she kind of hates me.” Actually, I’m not sure how true that last part is anymore.
“But you like Molly?”
Likeis probably an understatement. I’m almost obsessed with her, desperate for any chance she might give me. “Yeah, I like her.”
Tamara squeals. “Ooh, this is so exciting! It’s about time you found someone. You’re like one of those creepy old bachelors at this point.”
I hold the phone away in front of me and stare at it, shaking my head. Bringing the phone back to my ear, I say, “I’m only thirty, and I’ve dated plenty, including at least two serious relationships.”
“I didn’t like either of them.”
“You don’t know if you like Molly, either. You don’t know anything about her.”
