Chapter 33
Ember
It’s been six months since Chamonix.
Six months of three-hour time zone lags, missed messages, glitchy FaceTime calls, and yearning so strong it’s become part of my bone structure.
We saw each other a month ago when he came to Boston.
We had the most amazing weekend in a bed and breakfast up the coast, with a view of the Atlantic.
We went for walks. We made love. We went to restaurants. We drank good wine. We read in bed. We made love—desperately—again and again, because we knew it would be a while before we could do it again.
We’ve managed to see each other for just a few days in the New Year. That’s all. And it isn’t enough, because not being together is actually becoming increasingly painful.
I love my lab. I do. But I hate how often I glance at the clock and subtract three hours to calculate his time zone.
I look at the clock now. It’s one in the afternoon in Palo Alto. He’s probably having lunch. I know he doesn’t have surgery today.
I text him. Tell him I love him, then sigh and get back to analyzing exoplanet atmospheric spectra—trying to isolate biosignature gases from a noisy data set.
When I hear the lab door open. I don’t bother looking up. It’s probably Jordan or Priya, my lab mates.
“I’m looking for Dr. Rousseau,” a deep voice says behind me.
My heart flatlines. Then jumps.
I spin around.
Ransom.
In my lab.
In a button-down and jeans, looking travel-rumpled and perfect, grinning at me like I’m the only person in the world.
“Hi,” he says.
My throat closes. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
I cross the room so fast that I nearly knock over files and papers.
He opens his arms just in time to catch me. I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Wanted to surprise you.”
I pull back and stare at him. “But you’re supposed to be in surgery tomorrow.”
“I traded with a colleague. Flew out on the redeye. You kept saying you were tired. Sounded like you needed me.”
My eyes fill with tears. “I always need you.”
He cups my jaw, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Same.”
Behind us, someone clears their throat.
I turn to see my colleague Jordan, who is also doing his postdoc, and our research tech, Priya, watching us in amusement.
I straighten and wave a hand between us. “Everyone—this is Ransom. My boyfriend.”
The word tastes sweet.
Ransom offers a modest smile and nods in greeting.
Jordan grins. “The Ransom?”
Priya cocks an eyebrow. “The one who sent the basket of chocolates?”
“Guilty.” Ransom grins.
“Well done,” Priya nods. “She was insufferably happy for two days after that package. We were, too. She shared the chocolate with us.”
“Can you make sure there are no nuts in the next shipment?” Jordan appeals. “I have an allergy.”
“I’ll do my best,” Ransom says graciously.
I take him to my apartment. The first thing we do is get naked.
He throws me on my bed and enters me in one go. No foreplay. Well, we’ve been getting enough of that every day without each other.
He rests his forehead against mine. “Baby, Em, you feel so damn good.”
I kiss him. “You fill me up in the best way, Ransom.”
He looks at me and starts to move, slowly and deeply. He holds my gaze, and I see tears flicker in his eyes.
Emotion swamps me.
“I love you,” I breathe.
“More than life,” he replies.
I close my eyes.
“No, baby, let me see…let me see you go over.”
So, I watch him as he watches me as we both climax. It’s more intimate than anything we’ve ever done. More visceral.
“Will it always be like this?” I wonder as I try to catch my breath.
“Always,” he vows.
That night, we have dinner at a tiny Italian place in Beacon Hill—candlelight, pasta, and an excellent Bolgheri.
We sit close, knees brushing under the table, fingers linked like we’ve been doing this for years.
“You look tired.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ve had a week.” I huff out a breath. “We’re running models on high-redshift galaxy formation, and it’s like trying to map dark matter with a flashlight and a gut feeling.”
He smiles. “You make me hard when you talk like that.”
I shake my head, laughing softly. “Look at you, getting it up after the marathon session we just had. And you say you’re old.”
“With you, Em, I’m going to want you, always.”
He’s so profound, so intense, that I feel it in my soul.
I stroke his wrist with a thumb. “I knew long distance wouldn’t be easy…but this is….”
“I know.”
The server interrupts and serves us.
We dive into our food.
All that sex has made us hungry, and since we plan to do more of it, we want to stock up on carbs.
“Your father has been emailing me papers about Antarctica since I saw them,” I tell him.
His parents had dinner with me when they came to Boston a month ago. Our families seem to have accepted us without much consternation. Well, except for that one time when Aksel gave Ransom a black eye.
“They’re going to an archaeological dig in Egypt in the fall. They tell you?”
“I love how they’re having so much fun as retirees. Learning. Growing. It’s remarkable.”
“And nagging me for grandchildren.”
I smile at him warmly. It doesn’t faze me now when he brings up getting married, having babies. I believe it will happen. I know it will. I have no doubts.
Not right now, though, because I have my postdoc, and Ransom can’t leave Stanford. Anywhere else will be a step down for him.
I have been seriously considering moving to Stanford, continuing my postdoctoral work there. But right now, there are no openings in astrophysics programs in the Bay Area.
“Speaking of their grandchildren, how’s Mason doing?” I ask.
I know he worries about Mason, his younger brother, who’s unhappily married, and Ransom fears that with two kids, he’s going to stay that way forever.
“Better since they left Florida…but…her family is….” He shakes his head. “The kids are doing well. I talked to them this weekend. They’re growing up.”
We catch up on all the family gossip, and then walk back to my apartment hand-in-hand.
“I know we talk and we visit,” he says wistfully. “But I miss the small stuff. Grocery runs. Walking like this with you. Falling asleep next to you. Fighting about whose turn it is to make coffee.”
“I’m…I’m looking for programs in the Bay Area,” I confide. “I can finish my post-doctoral work—”
“Baby, you’re working with one of the best researchers in astrophysics,” he protests. “Don’t jeopardize that.”
“It’s moot because I can’t find anything suitable.”
We don’t bring it up again, because it makes both of us feel helpless.
Instead, we live in the now, enjoy us, and when he leaves again, we both feel the pain of it, sharper with each passing day.