The Chemistry of Love(25)

Our waiter came back, and we gave him our orders—a Diet Coke and medium vegan pizza for me, just water and a medium meat lovers for Marco.

When the waiter left, Marco folded his hands on the table and looked at me very seriously. “It’s come to my attention that the Yankees suck.”

Again, I felt a little bewildered at the direction of our conversation. “What?”

“The bird in your house? The one who keeps saying ‘Yankees suck!’”

“Feather Locklear. She’s a gray parrot. She used to be at an outdoor aviary, but she kept teaching all the other birds to curse. They asked my grandfather to rehabilitate her. When he brought her home, she immediately taught Parrot Hilton and Parrot France to swear, but Grandpa’s working with them. It’s ‘Yankees suck’ now, but it used to be much worse. He uses replacement words with her.”

“Interesting. If she were my bird, I’d probably teach her to say, ‘Help! I’ve been turned into a parrot!’”

That made me laugh, and he grinned in response. “She’s mostly over it now. But every now and again, she curses in a way that would make a sailor blush.”

“So why all the Yankees hate? I’m assuming your grandpa doesn’t like them. What if I was a fan?”

“We are a Dodgers family. If you are a Yankees fan, then I think my grandpa might slap you across the face with his glove and demand satisfaction. For all I know, he has those birds do his bidding, and you might find yourself in a scene from a Hitchcock movie.”

“You like Hitchcock?”

“Who doesn’t?” I asked.

“It seems like he would fall outside of the Star Wars Lord of the Rings romantic comedies you said you typically enjoy. Not to mention that most people our age have never heard of him.”

“Well, then they don’t know what they’re missing.”

“Agreed.”

Our waiter, who I realized wasn’t wearing a name tag and hadn’t introduced himself, came back with my drink. I thanked him, and he said our food should be up soon.

“Speaking of the birds, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting at your house,” Marco commented.

I felt my spine bristle in response. “And just what were you expecting?” Cats? Had he thought I was some sad, lonely woman with only feline companionship? I told myself to calm down—I was putting words in his mouth. Just because a man had once told me that I seemed like the type of girl who lived with eighteen cats didn’t mean Marco was the same.

“You still live with your family. Is that cultural?”

“What culture?” I asked. “The bird people scientists nerdy girl one? I live at home because I can’t afford to move out.”

“I didn’t want to assume . . .” His voice trailed off.

“You can assume anything you’d like. They’ll probably be true.”

He frowned slightly. “Our chemists are paid well.”

“I think I was paid below entry level. At least according to . . .” I nearly said Catalina’s name and knew how jumpy C-level executives got about people sharing salaries and didn’t want to get her in trouble. “A former colleague. But I guess it was okay, considering.” Considering how much my boss hated me, it was surprising I got paid at all.

Marco looked irritated, and I knew it wasn’t directed at me. I wondered if Jerry and Craig were about to get a talking-to tomorrow. Marco struck me as a man of action.

Would that get Craig in trouble? I didn’t want that. I felt compelled to explain that my salary wasn’t the only reason I was broke. “My grandparents’ home is pretty old. About six months ago, the water heater died, and we discovered that all the pipes in the house had to be replaced. They didn’t have the money to cover it, and since it was due to age and not an accident, insurance wouldn’t help. I emptied out my savings to fix the house. My grandpa insisted they could take out a loan, but I paid the plumber. They’ve said they’ll pay me back, but they’re part-time professors and volunteer for nonprofits. They won’t be able to, and that’s okay.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and then said, “That is . . . exceptional. I don’t know many people who would do that.”

“They’re my family. I love them.” I felt wiggly, a bit awkward, at the expression in his eyes, and I shifted in my seat. “Plus, I have a taste for expensive lab equipment. I have my eye on a used high-shear mixer. It’s three thousand dollars, so I might be my grandparents’ age when I can finally afford it.”

Especially if I didn’t find a job soon.

The food arrived then, and our waiter slid it onto the table in front of us and told us to enjoy. We both thanked him.

My pizza looked very hot, and I wasn’t eager to burn my mouth (or my skin accidentally). I expected Marco to dig in, but he was still studying me carefully.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about something. But first . . . last night seemed pretty terrible for you.”

We were finally getting to the question I’d had on my mind since he’d shown up unannounced in my room, but I still didn’t quite understand what he was getting at.

“Oh, I think it would be number three on my Worst Days Ever list.” I pried apart two pieces of my pizza, grabbed one, and lifted it to my mouth.