Chapter Five
You’re late.” I cringe inwardly at my own words as soon as they’re out of my mouth.
That’s not how I wanted this to go. I sound like a headmaster scolding a student on the first day of school, not like someone who’s desperate for their academic rival to go along with a lie that puts their integrity at risk.
But really, how can he be this late?
His pine scent is going extra strong this morning, like he just showered and shaved. At my greeting, a frown etches into his face. “Good morning to you, too, Dr. Silberstein,” he replies, and for once, he sounds neutral. Not angry neutral, just… neutral. Maybe it’s too early for him to be annoyed.
“We need to talk.” I push the—now cold—cup of coffee I’ve been saving for him into his hands. It almost sloshes over the edge, but he tilts the cup, avoiding disaster and sparing his crisp blue linen shirt.
Admittedly, it’s not my smoothest moment.
I had pictured it differently: guiding Lewis to a corner of the room, instilling a sense of gratitude for the gesture with the coffee before diplomatically telling him that we really cannot fix the misconception that has arisen, or else I may as well kiss my career prospects goodbye, and finally laying out my much better alternative solution.
But instead, I can’t rein in my animosity.
He eyes the coffee suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Is it so inconceivable that I picked up coffee for you?”
His gaze ping-pongs between me and the coffee. “If you want me to retract that comment on your paper, my answer is no.”
I bite my lip at his arrogant tone. Breathe in and out, and remind myself of the presentations I’ve given in front of funding committees. This is no different. A proposal with perfectly deducted reasons.
“It’s just coffee,” I insist.
He takes a sip and immediately winces.
“Still conference coffee, though, and thanks to you being late, probably cold by now,” I add. Capitalizing on the moment and the fact that he’s busy swallowing the horrible coffee, I touch his elbow to steer him away from the busy door. “Let’s move over there.”
But before we can make it anywhere, Vivienne steps in front of us, holding a tablet to her chest. “Frances, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.” She’s wearing a mustard-yellow wrap dress that’s a splash of color in the muted blues and grays of the room. “Lewis, good morning!”
Fuck squared. If Vivienne is here, Jacob cannot be far behind.
And as much as I need her to believe that the obnoxious scientist at my side is, in fact, my boyfriend, I first need to convince said obnoxious scientist to play along.
Preferably before Jacob walks up to us and witnesses how far Lewis and I are from being a couple.
“Good morning,” I respond, forcing cheer into my voice to gloss over my nerves.
“Hi, Vivienne,” Lewis greets her and then seems to note her flustered state. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you, Lewis. Just in a bit of a rush, because… Well. We have an issue with one of the workshops planned for this afternoon,” she explains while I scan the room for Jacob.
“Dr. Rosenbaum was supposed to have a class on memory testing in clinical populations today, but her flight got canceled so she’ll only be able to join us later this week.
We’re trying to reorganize the program so everything still fits in the schedule.
I’m not sure how far along you are with your material, Frances, but I was wondering…
” Vivienne trails off, and it takes me a moment to parse that the last sentence is addressed to me.
I tilt my head, piecing together what she’s not asking. “You want me to switch sessions?”
Vivienne smiles in what I assume is agreement.
Despite my new pair of prescription lenses, I can’t make out the details at the far side of the room, so I’m not sure if the tall man bending over the tea selection really is Jacob Bellingham, but the possibility that he could be charges through my veins.
I tense. At my side, Lewis quizzically arches an eyebrow, not only making me aware I’ve never let go of his elbow but also that my fingers have tightened around it.
Right then, Vivienne glances from my hand around his elbow to Lewis’s face and—crap, his frown and puckered mouth is miles away from the adoring boyfriend I made him out to be. If she uncovers my lie now, I can flush my hopes for the Sawyer’s—and my grant and, oh wait, my career—down the drain.
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly, trying to get Vivienne’s attention before she looks at him too long.
I’d counted on a few early mornings this week to finish the interactive code for my workshop session on Thursday, but I’m far enough that I can cobble the last things together while the students attend this morning’s lectures.
Vivienne’s eyes are firmly fixed on me now. Mission accomplished.
“Oh, Frances. Thank you.” With gratitude plain on her face, she scribbles something on her tablet. “Thank you, really.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, and I mean it. Just the thought of organizing a conference as big as the Sawyer’s makes me stressed, and I admire Vivienne for how calm she seems through it all.
“The computer lab down the corridor is free the whole morning. You can use it to finish your things if you want. And I don’t know—maybe Lewis has the morning to spare, too.” She looks back at him kindly.
It takes everything in me to pull the corners of my mouth into a smile. Blood pumping in my ears at how close we are to being uncovered, I note Lewis freeze against my side, the confusion on his face obvious as he realizes I never told her the truth.
If only Vivienne wouldn’t have been so considerate to tell me about her engagement in person.
If I would’ve seen it in some social media post (“I said yes to the biggest collaboration of my life!”), or heard it from a colleague, I could’ve pulled myself away and quietly battled the existential crisis, rather than doing something irrational and mortifying.
Like pretending I was dating my biggest rival.
Whom I can’t even be with in the same room for two seconds without arguing.
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to help,” I say as I pinch into the soft skin of his underarm.
He moves his arm away, and in a snap second I see the future playing out in front of my eyes: The slow shake of his head as he tells Vivienne that it’s not true, that he doesn’t know why I’m pretending that we’re a couple.
Her incredulous look, and the rumor spilling out slowly, until I can’t face the people at this conference anymore.
Rejections trickling into my inbox that cite issues of credibility and a lack of professionalism.
But Lewis doesn’t say anything as he looks at me with an expression I can’t interpret. Instead, I feel his arm—the one he just pulled away—snake around my waist. Relief surges through my body as his face contorts into something that, with a lot of goodwill, might be interpretable as a smile.
Vivienne doesn’t look at his face too closely, though, seemingly already distracted by the next thing on her long to-do list. “Anyway, I should head inside—check if everything’s ready for the opening lecture.” She zips off, leaving me next to Lewis, who plucks his arm away within nanoseconds.
We stare at each other for a beat of silence.
He didn’t sell me out.
But he also doesn’t seem fine with what just happened, what with his lips pressed together and the crease etched into his forehead.
“I think we should talk,” I rush to say before he can second-guess himself and chase after Vivienne to tell her the truth.
He cocks up an eyebrow and drawls, “You don’t say, darling.”
“Let’s— Please.” I gulp, his pointed tone almost making me lose my nerve. “Can we go over here and just… Just let me explain. Okay?”
When we’re finally tucked into a quieter corner, and the murmur of voices in the hall has died down, I take a deep breath.
So far, I’ve managed to float in that gray zone where Vivienne thinks we’re a couple and Lewis doesn’t fully play along, but it’s only a matter of time before more people find out.
I wish, I really wish I could dial back to yesterday and stop myself from going along with Vivienne’s misconception, but time travel isn’t my area of expertise, let alone scientifically plausible, so all I can do is mitigate the hell out of this embarrassment of a situation.
Starting with phase 1; getting Lewis on board.
Lewis looks at me, then the stairs to the lecture hall, and his impatience gives me the push that I need.
As much as I despise opening myself up to him again, I sense that my only chance of convincing him is bone-deep honesty.
“Remember what I told you on the plane, how I was scared of coming back here and running into my ex?”
His eyes don’t ease their squint, but he nods at me, almost imperceptibly.
“You know by now that that person is Jacob Bellingham.” I want to drop my gaze, avoid the pity in his eyes that will undoubtedly arise with my next words, but I force myself to keep my chin up.
“He’s a professor, leading his own lab, and, to top it all off, also happily engaged.
I didn’t think it would hit this badly, but learning how well he’s done for himself in all aspects of life, while I’m nothing but the walking confirmation of his predictions, made me panic.
I think I shut down. I wanted to get out of there, and fine, perhaps a tiny part of me felt better when Vivienne implied we were dating.
But believe me, I know how stupid that was—I’m probably more ashamed of the whole thing than you are. ”
“It’s not stupid,” he says after a pause, the softness in his voice giving me a glimpse of the man who has now anchored me twice through my spiraling thoughts.
He looks like he’s on the brink of saying something else, too, but then he bites it back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “But surely you know we can’t keep this up. ”