"About last night—" he started.
"We don't need to discuss it," she cut in, "It was just... blowing off steam. We were tired."
He held her gaze for a moment longer. "Right. Of course."
She couldn't decipher his tone. Was it disappointment? Something else entirely? Before she could analyze it further, he turned back to his monitor, shoulders stiff.
They worked in silence for the next hour, the only sounds the clicking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers. Elena found herself re-reading the same paragraph six times without absorbing a word. Her mind kept drifting back to the previous night and the intensity of Finn’s eyes.
"I won't be able to stay in the lab too late tonight," she said abruptly, "I'm getting dinner with a friend. It's... overdue."
Finn looked up. "Okay. Sounds like fun."
"Yes. Her name is Laura," she added awkwardly.That definitely sounded like a lie.It wasn’t, she did have plans to catch up with a friend tonight. But Finn probably didn’t believe it.
He nodded, turning back to his work without another word. As Elena continued working, she tried to ignore the way his shoulders had tensed when she mentioned dinner plans.
She would get through this day. She would maintain professionalism and perspective. She would not overthink a simple dance, a moment of connection, a song that happened to be about a younger man and an older woman. The rest of the research assistants started arriving to the lab. The noise and normal conversation were a wave of relief.
Chapter Eleven
ELENA
The wine bar was a trendy new spot filled with hipster twenty-somethings. Elena felt out of place in her sensible work clothes. She checked her phone again. Three new emails from the grant committee, two from the ethics board, and one from Finn with the subject line "Dataset anomalies—urgent?" The last one made her chest tighten for reasons she didn’t want to analyze.
"Put that phone away, doctor. We’re drinking wine tonight."
Elena looked up to find Laura staring her down. Laura Hunt had the kind of presence that was hard to ignore, with wild red curls that stood out anywhere. Her voice was loud, and her gestures were sweeping.
"Sorry," Elena said, sliding her phone into her bag. "There's just a lot happening with the study right now."
Laura rolled her eyes and signaled the server with a flick of her wrist. "There's always a lot happening with the study. There has been for the past year. That's why we're here, toremember what it feels like to be a person instead of a research machine."
“I’m not a research machine,” Elena said more defensively than she intended. “I’m just… passionate about my work.”
"You're like one week away from turning into that scientist in a wheelchair who talks like a robot. What's his name again?"
"Stephen Hawking..."
“You know how he got like that, right?” Laura’s piercing blue eyes were wide open. This was serious. “Too much science.”
Elena couldn’t help but laugh. The server appeared, a young man covered with tattoos and piercings.
"Two glasses of pinot grigio. Actually, fuck it. Bring the bottle, young man!" Laura exclaimed. Elena held back a laugh at the server’s expression. "And a charcuterie board. And the Brussels sprouts with the honey glaze."
"That’s… a lot of food. I do occasionally find time to eat, you know," Elena said when the server left.
"Protein bars in the lab don't count as meals, darling." Laura leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying Elena. "God, when was the last time we did this? Six weeks ago? Two months?"
"Three months," Elena admitted. "Since that awful art gallery."
"I will never understand art. The major piece was just a man hanging from a wall," Laura finished with a laugh.
“And you couldn’t help yourself. ‘Don’t let go, Rafael!’” Elena remembered with a laugh.
The wine arrived, and they each poured a glass. Laura lifted hers in a toast. "To art." They clinked glasses, and the wine warmed her as she took her first sip. She felt herself exhale for what seemed like the first time in a while.
Elena knew why Laura always insisted on thisparticular date. September 15th. Today would have been her thirteenth wedding anniversary. But five years ago, he left. After an affair. And now, he wasn’t in her or Miguel’s life at all. He was in Boston, all the way on the other side of the country. Since then, they had this tradition. Wine, food, and absolutely no mention of Mateo or what today meant. Laura's unspoken gift was pretending this was just another girls' night, not an anniversary of a life Elena had dismantled and rebuilt.
