The paella recaptured my attention, and I tuned out talk of Tiel's work as an adjunct professor at Berklee College of Music and Riley's newestDextertheories. He'd only recently discovered Netflix. But the spicy rice triggered some neural connection, and I snapped my fingers as it came to me. "You did the seminar on the comparison of music therapy and pharmacological sedation using chloral hydrate in pediatric EEG captures," I said, thrilled that I'd finally figured out how I knew Tiel.
"What were you doing there?" she asked.
Right, prickly pear it is.
"I cut brains," I supplied. "You know, for medical purposes. I had eight first-year pediatric neuro-surgical interns with me." I paused, thinking back to that session and my attempt to implement those practices. "I don't let them sedate toddlers anymore unless they've already tried and failed non-pharma measures, and I can only think of a few cases."
She softened a bit, and said, "I'm glad it's working."
I asked, "You're at Berklee?" Tiel nodded. "What else are you working on? I have plenty of residents who need to publish, and enslaving them brings a lot of joy to my life."
"Well," she murmured, glancing around to find everyone watching her. That couldn't have been fun, especially considering she'd bared her teeth at our very own Miss Congeniality. "I've been applying some new therapeutic approaches with children on the autism spectrum. Too early to draw any correlations."
"All right," Patrick said. It sounded like he was ready to make his ruling on Sam's date. "You're obviously very intelligent. What the hell do you see in the runt?"
"Don't answer that," Andy said, shaking her head. "What he meant to say was Lauren and I go to an incredible winter farmers' market on Saturdays, and you should come with us this weekend."
I checked out of the conversation and went back to the room-temperature paella, and my not-bitterness. I decided that I resented the ice sheets. Fuckin' ice. I took no issue with her work or the fact that she wasn't the kind of scientist who made a home for herself in the bowels of a university course catalog. There was nothing hotter than imagining my girl kicking ass on a frozen tundra, and it gave her too much meaning for me to ever steal that from her.
But fuck if I didn't want to stumble into the universe where I went to bed with my wife every night.
"Erin's heading off on a research trip," Matt said, and that caught my attention.
"Yeah, I heard from her last week," Patrick added. "I don't think there's anywhere she hasn't been."
My apartment, if we're starting a list.
"Where's she headed now?" Sam asked. "Obviously, I wasn't on the short list of people she notifies about her journeys."
I scowled at him. It was the only thing I could do to keep from growling.
"Antarctica," Matt said.
Other pole, asshole.
"Wait," Andy said. "I think I know the answer to this but…are there volcanoes in Antarctica?"
Patrick shook his head. "I think it's the Arctic, Matt," he said. "Not volcanoes. Not exactly. She said she'd spent so long looking at these"—he held his arms far apart, as if he was measuring something—"I don't know what they're called, but all the layers of rock and lava, and in it she kept seeing evidence of little ice ages and periods of drought, and it got her wondering about change over time. Not just recent history, back to when people started recording daily temperatures and all, but back as far as she could find."
"Is that meteorology?" Sam asked. "Or…I'm at a disadvantage here since no one tells me anything. What is she studying now?"
"Climate change," Matt said. "I think."
"Sounds more like planetary physics," I added. I could've given a brief sermon on Erin's studies, but stopped myself right there. Not bitterat all.
"Whoa," Andy murmured. "And now she's going to…one of the poles?"
"You're probably right about it being the Arctic," Matt said to Patrick. "She sent me the details of her trip but I didn't read them through. I just told her it would take me a lot longer to bail her out if she got into trouble up there."
I'd never wanted to punch my best friend more.
"I'm so confused," Lauren said. "She's not in Italy anymore?"
"No, she's in Iceland now," Matt said. "But she's attached to a research institute in London."
Oxford. Not London.
"Guys, you make her seem like some wild child on the run," Andy said. "That wasn't the vibe I got when I talked to her at the wedding. I think it's time to dial down the big brother routine."
