The Chemistry of Love(8)

But she didn’t react the way I’d hoped she would—matching my excitement with her own encouragement. Instead she asked, “Does that mean you, Little Miss Introvert, are actually going to the company party tonight? Should I be on the lookout for four horsemen?”

She was making a joke, like she didn’t understand that this was a big deal. “Of course I’m going. Craig basically asked me to be his date.”

“I don’t think so. You might be reading too much into it.”

If I was, I planned on reading too much into it until further notice. Instead of telling her that, I responded, “Well, if nothing else, I think it was significant, him wanting to dance with me. I think things between us are going to change tonight.”

“Anna, I love you, pero no hablo delusional.”

Catalina usually only slipped into Spanglish with me when I was particularly exasperating her. Her statement felt like a shock. She’d never said something like that to me before.

“Sorry,” she quickly added. “I don’t want to rain on your parade. You’re not delusional. I shouldn’t have said that. And I should be more supportive. But I think you deserve better than Craig. I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know,” I said. “I appreciate it. But we should probably get back to work before Jerry fires us both.”

She nodded and went back to her own workstation. I slid the sleeves of my lab coat up my arms and then opened my laptop. The laptop that Craig had just been holding. My fingerprints were touching his fingerprints. It was almost like we were holding hands.

Even I had to groan at that. My late mother’s adoration of romantic comedies had warped my brain.

I glanced at my screen and saw that there was an email icon. For a second I entertained the hope that Craig might have sent me a quick note, but I knew that wasn’t possible. He was in a meeting, and he would have to make some effort to find my work email. He’d probably have that battle-ax of an assistant, Gretchen, find it for him.

Not that I could blame her for being so protective. If I was Craig’s administrative assistant, I’d guard him, too.

But that meant if I did get an email from him, there would be a good amount of effort behind it. The thought made me smile.

When I opened my work inbox, I saw that it was a message from Jerry. My smile fell off my face while I suppressed a groan. That annoyance quickly turned to anger when I saw that his email was full of critiques of my current formulation. I hadn’t sent it to him. Which meant that he’d gotten on my laptop, pulled it up, and was now criticizing all my hard work.

I knew for a fact he didn’t do this to anyone else, and in that moment, it was infuriating. I knew I was onto something with this formulation, that it would work, and Jerry had all but written SEE ME in big letters all over it. I was not a child and I was tired of being treated like one.

My hands shaking, I barely glanced up when Jerry’s office door opened and Craig left.

I thought of all the little injustices Jerry had committed, how he’d said no to my pitches without even looking up from his computer screen, how he hadn’t let us utilize this lab and these materials the best way that we could, the way he’d repeatedly embarrassed me in front of all my colleagues.

I was being held back here. I remembered how just a few nights ago, I’d resolved to be happy and admitted to myself that nothing in my current situation was making me happy. I wished I was stronger. But the only way to be strong was to . . . just be strong. Make a choice.

I was the person who got to make decisions for my life and my potential happiness. Wasn’t I the master of my fate? The captain of my . . . I wanted to say starship, but that seemed wrong.

Right phrase or not—the only way to make things change was to change them.

As my body finally realized what I was about to do, my heart started to pound hard and my limbs felt heavy, like they wanted to force me to stay in my seat.

Instead of heading straight for Jerry’s office, I veered left and stopped at Catalina’s workstation. And whether I wanted her to talk me out of it or cheer me on, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m about to do something highly irrational,” I said.

She was in the midst of pouring a dram of olive oil into a beaker. “Something worse than drinking cyclopentasiloxane?”

“Yes.” I gulped. “As you like to say, today I’m choosing violence.”

She paused and raised both her eyebrows at me. “You’re not going to slip tetrahydrozoline in his coffee, are you? Because you know that putting Visine in someone’s drink won’t actually give them diarrhea. That’s an urban legend. Although Jerry deserves to spend a day on a toilet.”

There was a visual I did not need.

“No. I’m not going to drug him. I’m giving him my two weeks’ notice.”





CHAPTER THREE


I had honestly expected Catalina to argue with me. To tell me this was a terrible idea and that I should be a good little worker drone and head back to my desk.

But to my surprise, she said, “You should. If I had more practical experience, I’d leave in a heartbeat. Any lab’s got to be better than this one. There are dozens of makeup companies in the Los Angeles area. You can get another job. A better one.”

I could get a better job. I was routinely contacted by headhunters via my LinkedIn profile. There had to be something waiting for me out there.