“Oh, Jason Isner claims he doesn’t want a relationship with anyone, but I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve never met a hockey player who’s happy to go solo.” The man would make someone a wonderful partner, but he certainly didn’t see me in that role. “I think it’s better we stay friends and adhere to the contract. Anything else risks upsetting the careful balance I’m trying to curate here.”
My stepmom sighed. “That’s the thing about love, Franks. It’s not really something you can curate.”
Cat gave a sympathetic nod. “Franky, if you have feelings for Jason, and you’d like to be more than co-parents, then you should talk to him.”
A nubbin of hope sparked into a flame in my chest. Jason and I talked all the time, and not just about the baby. I kept him abreast of my research, and he told me all the ways I could insult someone Boston-style. The night of Theo’s party, as we lay in bed together, we had both admitted to feelings of jealousy—he about Sean, me about the ravenous readers of Chicago Renegades fan fiction—but that was normal, given what we meant to each other. Wasn’t it?
Despite our growing closeness, the idea that it might signify more than concern for our joint enterprise felt distinctly unreal.
I had no doubt he cared about me—and that he once found me attractive—but daring to think he might want more without clear evidence defied the logic and method that had been my watchwords all my life.
The Deroceras invadens was resting in the terrarium, though with slugs, it was hard to tell. I made some notations on a clipboard, then rubbed the twinge I felt in my back.
A slight cough sounded behind me, and I turned to find the department chair, Dr. Al-Hadi. While I had met him several times in his office and at a couple of faculty mixers, this was the first time he had appeared in the Malacology Lab.
“Dr. Al-Hadi, welcome.”
“Dr. St. James, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” He surveyed the lab with interest. The chair’s research was focused on bumblebees, particularly nest behavior and thermoregulation, so our worlds, or the worlds of our subjects, rarely intersected.
“Not at all.”
He came forward, smiling. I’d always found him an amiable individual, and not like the typical fuddy-duddies I usually encountered in academia.
“How are you feeling? At this point in my wife’s pregnancy with our first, she was ready to punch anyone who came near her.”
I chuckled. “I’m not quite there, but I can definitely empathize. It’ll be good to be home in Chicago with my family.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We discussed once the possibility of making Harvard your home. We still believe that your research would add a missing dimension to the department’s scholarship.”
“My work is rather esoteric.”
“But important, nonetheless. We must remember that we can learn so much from the tiniest organisms.”
My thoughts exactly. “I appreciate the offer to apply, Dr. Al-Hadi. I’ve loved my time here, but with the baby about to be born, I’m anxious to maintain the support network I’ve built. My family is in Chicago, as is my baby’s father, and while I’ve no doubt we could thrive here, those connections are key in the early years of a child’s life. Perhaps, I would reconsider when my child is older.”
Cat’s advice had needled its way under my skin. If you have feelings for Jason, and you’d like to be more than co-parents, then you should talk to him.
With each day we came closer to meeting our child, I wondered if there might be a chance for us as a couple. Once I was back in Chicago, we could discuss the potential for a partnership beyond co-parenting. Investigate if a man like Jason Isner could love an odd duck like me.
Dr. Al-Hadi nodded. “As long as I’m chair, a place will always be open for you, Dr. St. James.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Second Round of the Playoffs
Game 3
Chicago @ LA
* * *
Jason
* * *
“You seem nervous, J.”
I turned my head slightly to Hatch, who really should be sitting in his own row on the plane. There were plenty of seats.
