Chapter 31
JAMIE
Morgan finally asks for the check, and as the waiter takes it back across the cliff path, I stand and stretch. I approach the railing, keeping a pace back as I lean forward and try to see more of the ocean against the rocks below.
Morgan chuckles. “I’m sure this one is just as sturdy as the pool was.”
“I don’t like how low it is. It’s not up to code.”
Morgan snorts. “Do you have a history of fainting or something?”
“No,” I say, a touch defensively. “But it would be a terrible time for it to start, wouldn’t it?”
Morgan rolls her eyes and stands, then steps up behind me. “Go on,” she says, tilting her chin towards the edge. “I’ve got you.”
“N-no, it’s fine…”
But Morgan doesn’t move. And I realize I have to go through with this. I take a deep breath and step towards the edge, towards the railing. I can’t help but imagine what would happen if I slipped and couldn’t catch myself—my center of gravity is well above the rail.
I swallow my fear, grip the railing hard, and lean over the edge.
I expected Morgan would just be there to catch me. But her arm wraps around from behind, pressing against my chest.
My heart thunders under her hand, but it’s not from the height.
I’d probably survive a drop of twenty feet anyway, as long as my legs didn’t break on the rocks and leave me to drown in the thrashing waves.
A wave strikes the cliff, and the mist rises to my face as light refracts through the droplets, creating a ghostly rainbow. The edge of the wave turns to lacy foam and fades into deep azure. Seaweed tumbles in the water, adding a green depth to the expansive blue.
Mussels and barnacles cling to the cliff both above and below the waterline, and a seabird hops from small ledge to ledge, picking at shells here and there.
A little tidal pool nestles in the cliff, and with every wash of the waves, the crevice fills with water.
It drains out slowly as the water retreats, then fills again with the next wave.
It’s beautiful.
I hardly notice any of it because Morgan’s hand presses against my chest, warm with her strength and steadiness, and I have an insane impulse to throw myself over the edge just to feel her arms wrap around me.
“I’ve always loved the ocean.” Her voice falls close to my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Humans have conquered plains, mountains, rivers, even space. But the ocean remains utterly untamed.”
I huff a laugh.
“What?” Morgan’s breath sets the hairs at the back of my neck on end.
“Sorry, just… promise me you don’t have any plans to go on a crank submersible any time soon.”
Morgan chuckles. “I may be a billionaire, but I’m not an idiot. I don’t take it personally that nature outranks me.”
I lean back from the railing, and Morgan’s hand lingers on my chest.
Something clicks in my brain, and my eyes widen. “Wait, I figured it out!”
“Finally,” Morgan teases. “I was wondering how I could make it any more obvious.”
I blink. “Wait, you know already?”
She gives me an odd look. “Somewhat by definition.”
“So it was a test?”
“That’s an… odd perspective. But, sure.”
“Wait, what are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The… the data you gave me. The case study.”
Morgan bursts into a deep, sincere laugh, and it’s good that I love the sound so much because I’m reeling otherwise. She straightens my jacket and smooths the lapel, and I shiver.
“Please,” she says. “Tell me about the data.”
I really want to know what she was talking about, but my excitement about the epiphany wins out.
“It’s a leaky bucket problem,” I explain. “Sort of. The more you put in, the more has to be cleared out.”
Morgan raises an eyebrow.
“Sorry, um… so, one of the serum biomarkers that was tested, that was high in the case study.”
“Likely a secondary effect. That market doesn’t elevate in the longitudinal study.”
“It doesn’t in a statistically significant way,” I correct.
“But I always like to compare a few different confidence thresholds. It was about a seventy-five percent chance of elevation overall. But we should dig into the individual data. Because the other thing I noticed about that biomarker is it has a few structures similar to the docking proteins the suppressants target.”
“You’re saying that biomarker could be part of a resistance pathway?”
“Precisely.”
“Very interesting…”
“And in the case study, that marker has been gradually increasing. Again, the measurement-over-measurement confidence has been basically fifty-fifty, but the rise over the past ten years is within the ninety-five percent confidence window.”
“We have a longitudinal study covering more than ten years,” Morgan counters. “Why don’t other subjects show the same elevation?”
“That’s what I was stuck on too. But I was looking at the tide pool—”
“The tide pool?”
“Okay, I think it’s not technically a tide pool. It’s like a crevice thingy—”
“The data. Please.”
“Right. So, I looked up some of the shorter studies and the overall blood tests, and again, it’s a little fuzzy, but the marker does seem to decrease rapidly when treatment is halted.
The original investigators attributed this to noise in the serum measurement, but I looked across several studies and the effect is consistent.
If we pooled the data, we might see a statistically significant recovery.
Preferably, we should test a new cohort with a more sensitive instrument, because part of the issue is we’ve been right at the lower limit of detection. ”
“Regardless, the longitudinal study still proves the long-term effects are minimal,” Morgan says.
“Not quite,” I say, and I can’t help but grin.
“Do you know anybody who takes their meds every single day for ten years and never misses a single dose? It’s practically unheard of.
People can’t even use condoms correctly.
Compliance is a common issue in longitudinal studies.
The cohort isn’t that big. The odds of each of the participants, at least once, forgetting a dose or a few and experiencing the recovery effect are high.
And unless people are perfectly honest in their surveys—which they notoriously aren’t—we wouldn’t see that in the data. ”
“So the tide pool connection is…?”
“If the pool never drained, it would fill, and fill, and fill. The marker would go up and up, and resistance to the suppressant would build and build. It’s a simple solution overall—every drug has this issue.
Tolerance builds, and the dose has to go up.
The case study should try a tolerance break and see if that resolves the issue. ”
“You figured all that out this afternoon.” Morgan’s eyes glitter. I think she’s interested in the science, but there’s something else on her mind.
It’s a statement, not a question, but I timidly reply, “Yes?”
“And yet you have no idea why you’re here.”
“I don’t?”
“Let me see if I can make it a little more obvious…”
Morgan grips my chin, leans down, and presses her lips against mine.
Oh god. Oh my fucking god.
I’m frozen with shock. Her lips are warm and soft. The omega in me whines.
Morgan leans back. Her fingers brush over my chin, then slide to cradle my face.
“Figure it out yet?” she murmurs. Her chest is tense, as if the last thing she wanted to do was lean back from that kiss. But Morgan is as controlled as ever.
I force myself to swallow. My mouth waters for her.
“This is… a date?”
“Good boy,” she purrs.
Oh god, I think I am going to develop a fainting problem. Usually her tone makes my spine stiffen, but this time it turns to liquid.
“Is it… is it going well?” I force out.
“What do you think?” Morgan says, eyes searching mine.
I was wrong to ever call those eyes merely violet. They’re as many different colors as the sea. Indigo and lilac and amethyst and rose and lavender.
And I’m lost in them. In a rowboat without oars. I’m going to drown.
I want to drown.
“I…”
The waiter returns to process the check, and Morgan reluctantly releases me.
“I need to use the restroom,” I stammer to both of them. It’s true—I drank a lot of wine.
“I’ll meet you up front,” Morgans says with a nod, and the waiter leads me back across the ledge to the rest of the establishment. I hardly worry about the lack of railing because I already feel like I’m falling.
The extravagance of the bathroom is a blur as I duck into a stall and pull out my phone. It doesn’t matter how bad I have to pee, I’m texting Eileen first.
WE ARE ON A DATE, I REPEAT, WE ARE ON A DATE
Eileen responds within seconds.
HOLY SHIT FUCK YEAH
Me: What do I do??
Eileen: Don’t fuck it up??
Me: VERY HELPFUL THANK YOU
Eileen: How drunk are you?
Me: Uh. Very?
Eileen: Good, keep it up. You’ve got this. Don’t overthink it.
Me: HAVE YOU MET ME
Eileen: JUST KEEP DRINKING
And let me know if you need ANYTHING
Me: I need a personality transplant and the luck of a lottery winner
Eileen sends a kiss emoji and reiterates that I should keep her posted. Then tells me I shouldn’t keep Morgan waiting. I almost leave the stall before I realize I forgot to pee.
As I wash my hands, reality starts to settle in.
This is happening. This is really happening.