Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nikolas
It had been four days since I brought tea to Leyla. Seeing her pained eyes, something in me woke up, something akin to a caveman. I wanted to drag her to my cave, hide her from the world, and keep her safe. I’d never experienced anything like that before.
The next morning, my headphones were on my desk with a note that read: “Thank you, these made all the difference. –Leyla.” I placed the note in my wallet for no other reason than to have something from this woman that wasn’t an anger-fueled insult.
Although the truce would hopefully lead to less tense interactions.
A man could only dream.
Checking my watch, I decided to take a break before Leyla was due to meet me in the lab. Taking a chance that she’d answer, I dialed my sister Defne while I unwrapped a protein bar from my desk drawer.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, big brother?” I could hear the smile in her voice. It had been a few weeks since we’d spoken.
“Hello to you, too, little sister. Just had a few minutes before it got crazy in the lab and thought I’d see what you were up to.” I took a bite, enjoying the salty-sweet combination of the bar.
“Oh, you know. Homeschooling two kids under the age of ten is always a good time,” she jested. Defne had married young, and her two boys were born soon after. She and her high school sweetheart waited only until their second year of college to get married.
“I’m proud of you for taking that on. Not sure I could do it.”
“It has its rewards. Now tell me the real reason you’re calling.” I never could get anything by her. She was only three years younger than me, but we might as well have been twins.
“Mike says I need to tell her.” I swallowed my next bite slowly, feeling it threaten to choke me.
“I take it we’re talking about the unattainable Leyla?” she asked with a snicker.
“Who else?” That was always my answer over the years.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t dated, but I’d never had a serious girlfriend.
The closest I had gotten was a woman I dated for three months a few years ago.
My peculiar behavior started to irritate her, so I graciously ended things so she didn’t have to.
Defne sighed. “I’m not going to talk you out of trying to get something going with her, but it makes me angry that she treated you so badly.”
“I never got to tell her back then, you know, about me.”
“I know. Maybe it’s time.”
I sighed. “Yeah, maybe so.”
“I’ll say it again. I don’t think this woman deserves you, but then again, I don’t think anyone does. But…you’ve been pining for her for years, brother. I’m not sure if it’s sad or completely romantic.”
“You’re not helping,” I scoffed. “And I’ve not been pining all this time.”
“No, you’re right. That’s not the right word. It’s yearning,” she said, elongating the last word in a breathless tone.
“You’re almost as bad as Mike,” I grumbled, making her laugh loudly.
“Admit it. You yearn for Leyla. Say it with me, Niko. Yearn,” she repeated in a ridiculously low-pitched, breathy voice.
“I’m glad you’re not on speaker. I don’t need to be humiliated twice in one week.”
“What does that mean?” I heard her flip-flops slapping on the wood floor.
“Just take my word for it. Never, ever put Siri on speaker. Now, get serious. Are you saying you think I should tell her? I’ve run all the equations in my head, and I can’t come up with one that sounds right.”
“Listen, science boy, this isn’t your lab. This is your life, your personal life. If you’re determined to be a part of Leyla’s life, then, yes, you need to tell her. You deserve a woman who accepts you exactly the way you are,” she said, her tone becoming serious at the end.
“I know, I know. I am God’s masterpiece…”
“And He gave you purpose,” she said simultaneously. It was our family’s ethos.
“Say a little prayer for me?” I asked, knowing I needed to get back to work.
“Always. And listen. If she can’t love you the way you deserve, then let her go once and for all.”
“Thanks, Defne Duck,” I teased.
“Love you, Nerd Head.”
I hung up, put my phone on my desk, and tossed the wrapper in the garbage. My sister’s words about acceptance brought back the uncomfortable conversation with Leyla the other night.
My reaction to Leyla’s words, though they were said in anger, wasn’t malicious. But they hit that tender spot I kept safely tucked away. She just didn’t understand how I moved through the world.
I could just tell her because a boss should understand how I process things, but that would’ve been a lie.
I wanted Leyla Cooper to know me, all of me. Not Leyla, the CEO. The woman. The only logical explanation I could come up with was that she mattered to me. Her opinion of me mattered more than I ever imagined.
A deep desire to have her see me fully pulled at my heart and threatened to burst from my mouth every time we were at least civil to one another. I had planned to explain it all to her after the college disaster, but she made sure it never happened.
And now that need to be understood came back in full force.
A little while later, Leyla walked into the lab, wearing her white lab coat over a burgundy dress that stopped me in my tracks.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she strolled in, smiling and talking with the lab techs.
It was like witnessing a chemical reaction, accelerated by the right catalyst. Somehow, her impossibly green eyes deepened as the color of the dress pulled warmth into her skin and set fire to the gold flecks in her eyes. It was impossible to look away.
“Niko? You ready to get started?” she asked, pulling me from my reverie.
Clearing my throat, I answered, “Yes, absolutely. Thanks again for stepping in.”
“It feels good to be back in the lab and away from strategy meetings and investor calls.” She squinched her nose in jest, causing her freckles to bunch together. It took everything in me not to reach out and touch them.
When she pulled on her gloves, our eyes met and held for a few moments before she looked away. I busied myself with wiping down the long stainless-steel bench, the cold shock of it bringing me back to attention. The familiar scent of zinc and alcohol helped me focus.
“The team has the glass sample jars labeled with the batch numbers, date, and formula variation already,” I said. Leyla nodded and prepared the glass slides.
Being here in a lab, working alongside her again, felt like I’d been given a gift, maybe even a second chance.
For hours, we worked as a team, testing the comparative stability of each batch. We were both focused and quiet, except for brief conversations about the work we were doing.
“The performance run isn’t working yet. I can’t seem to get consistent SPF retention results under heat. I just need to try it under a few more conditions,” I mumbled, hunched over the batches, making notes.
Leyla leaned back, stretching her back and shoulders with a grunt. “We’ve been at this all day. I think we need the team to just start over with new batch samples.”
“Not yet. There’s something I’m missing,” I answered, adjusting the heat lamp.
“Niko, you’ve tested every sample three times. I’m calling it. As much as I hate to admit it, we need to start over.” She was getting frustrated with the way I was working. I could tell. She wanted a pass-or-fail for each sample, but I was methodical in my approach to testing.
“Yes, I know we’ve tested them multiple times, but the only way I know how to proceed is to change one variable at a time and note it. Only then am I satisfied that the batch is no good. Please, just let me do it my way,” I begged, leaning on the bench and looking at her.
“The technicians have already completed most of that, and these samples are the result of those findings. I don’t understand why you insist on wasting time. We have a deadline to meet,” she said, her voice rising with irritation.
I put my head down and took a breath before saying, “Is that the CEO speaking, or the scientist?”
Anger instantly lit her gemstone eyes on fire. “How dare you question me like that? I have to look at this from all angles. Yes, all of it matters, but your arrogance is costing me money,” she yelled. The explosion made everyone else in the lab stop and stare.
Trying hard not to retaliate, I answered as evenly as I could. “This is not arrogance. I don’t draw conclusions from results first. I process patterns. I’m sorry if it doesn’t fit your timeframe, but I’m the head of your R&D department. I was hired to do this job, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Realizing she had drawn the staff’s attention, she lowered her voice.
“We are short-handed, and as much as I have enjoyed being back in the lab, I have responsibilities piling up on my desk. It’s not my problem that you have your processes.
They’re not working.” Her glare was as harsh as her loud voice had been.
“Are you telling me that you can’t deviate from what you’re used to for the sake of the team?
You can’t, just this once, change the way you do things? ”
Shaking my head, I answered, frustration building. I needed her to understand. “No, Leyla. I’m sorry. I can’t. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll miss something important. I don’t know how else to work through this except what makes sense to me.”
“What does that even mean?” she asked, her hands lifting in the air in frustration.
Looking her in the eyes, I blurted out, “It means I’m neurodivergent.”