"Four,” Laura offered, extending her hand.
Elena sighed, recognizing the futility of further resistance. "Fine. One dinner. But I'm holding you to that."
Laura grinned, eyes gleaming with victory. "Deal. I'll set it up for next week. Friday night work for you?"
Elena nodded, already regretting her capitulation. "As long as it's after seven. I have participant interviews until six."
"Perfect," Laura said, signaling for the check. "And wear that burgundy wrap dress, the one with the drapey front. It makes your boobs look fantastic."
"Laura!" Elena hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard.
Laura just laughed, unrepentant. "What? It's a scientific fact. And science is your religion, Dr. Herrera."
As they gathered their things to leave, Elena thought again of Finn again. Of the way his eyes had followed her in the lab that morning, carefully avoiding direct contact. Of how quiet he'd been when she mentioned dinner plans. Of how, for just a moment as they danced, she'd felt something awaken in her that had been dormant for years.
But that was a dangerous path, one she couldn't afford to walk. David was the sensible choice. The safe choice. Even if the thought of sitting across from him left her feeling nothing at all.
"Stop overthinking," Laura said, linking her arm through Elena's as they stepped outside. "It's just dinner, not a marriage proposal."
Elena smiled, leaning into her friend's solid presence. "I know. Thanks for looking out for me."
"Always," Laura said, squeezing her arm. "Even when you're being stubborn and work-obsessed and refusing to admit there's something you're not telling me."
Elena laughed, the sound easier now after two glasses of wine and genuine connection. "I've missed you."
"Well, stop missing me and start seeing me more than once a quarter," Laura said. "Miguel isn't the only one who needs you to be a whole person, you know."
As they parted ways at the street corner, Elena's phone buzzed in her bag. She pulled it out to find a new message from Finn: "Progress on the anomalies. Can review when you're back. No rush. Hope dinner is going well."
She stared at the text, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with wine and everything to do with the fact that he'd been thinking about her, even as he continued working alone. "Thanks, will check in tomorrow.”
She pressed send, put her phone away, and tried not to think about why a simple text from her research assistant made her feel more alive than the prospect of dinner with a suitable man her own age.
Some questions were better left unexamined.
Chapter Twelve
FINN
Finn stared at the data charts glowing on his monitor. This was the preferable option compared to what awaited him tonight. He checked his watch. Thirty-seven minutes until Elena would drive them to her house. Earlier in the week, Elena had approached him, voice casual in a way that immediately put him on alert.
"So," she'd said, perching on the edge of his desk, "the Neurological Foundation's annual gala is this Friday."
Finn had nodded, not looking up from his screen. "I saw the email. I've already added the data they requested to the quarterly report."
"It's not about the report." Elena had taken a sip of her coffee, "They want to meet us. Both of us. Apparently, word of our new protocol has reached the board. They want to meet the faces behind the new strategy.”
Finn felt his shoulders tense. "Both of us?"
"Yes, Finn. Both of us." She set her mug down on his desk. "You're as much a part of this project as I am.”
He didn’t want to go. He didn’t like networking. He didn’t like the small talk between people in suits that somehow influenced important decisions. But he didn’t really have a good excuse to say no.
"I don't have a tuxedo," he'd said weakly.
"A suit is fine," Elena had replied, already sensing victory. "A dark suit, white shirt, tie. You must have that."
He did have a suit, unfortunately.
