The Chemistry of Love(96)

“She’s funny, too,” Lindy said.

“She is?” Tracie interjected. “Such as?”

I never thought of myself as funny, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to prove it. Other than telling one of my dad’s jokes. “A man walks into a bar and says, ‘I’ll have H20.’ His friend says, ‘I’ll have H2O, too.’ The second man died.”

Marco laughed, but he was the only one, and I felt like I had to explain. “H2O2 is hydrogen peroxide, and if you drank it . . .” My voice died off as the next course was brought in.

“Do you know what you should do if nobody laughs at your chemistry jokes?” Marco asked me quietly. “Keep telling them until you get a reaction.”

That made me feel slightly better, and I reached under the table to hold his hand. He squeezed it in solidarity.

“Should I be spending this weekend trying to butter your dad up?” I asked.

“He’s not butterable. But I can help you if you want.”

I squeezed his hand in return. Thankfully the conversation turned to another topic, and I was able to eat the rest of my dinner in relative peace and didn’t mentally relive my dumb joke too often.

Marco’s phone rang, and he glanced at it. “Excuse me a moment. This is the office.”

He got up and walked out of the dining room. The last dish was served.

“This is a mango shrikhand,” Tracie said. “We had it on our last trip to India.”

They set a bowl in front of me, and I took a small taste. It was delicious—light, creamy, sweet. I started shoveling it into my mouth. The texture was amazing, the spices and nuts such a great contrast to the cool dish.

Marco came back in the room and sat next to me. He put his hand over mine and said, “What are you doing?”

“Eating?”

“That’s made with yogurt,” he told me. He glared across the table at Tracie. “I told you she was lactose intolerant. Why would you serve this?”

Lindy looked shocked, as if Marco didn’t usually speak this way to her mom.

The dish had yogurt in it? I couldn’t even tell. I kicked myself for not asking. I should have. I had just wanted to fit in so badly.

“I forgot,” Tracie said defensively, and even I could see it was a lie.

A server came over to take the mostly eaten dish from me, and I tried to hand it to him and I missed. The bowl fell to the floor and shattered.

There was a moment of thunderous silence, and then Tracie said, “My china!”

“My mother’s china,” Marco quickly corrected.

“Do you know how impossible it is to find a match for this set?” she asked, oblivious to Marco’s statement.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, turning toward Marco. “That was your mom’s? I feel terrible. I can pay for it.”

“It’s fine,” he said. Dinner was obviously over, and Marco took me by the hand and led me up to our room.

“Do you have something?” he asked. “Or should I send someone out?”

“I have medicine.” All of that was bad. So, so bad. How was I going to fit in with the Kimballs when I was ruining their things and getting sick during their vacation? I dug through my purse until I found my Digestive Advantage pills. Ken wasn’t going to want to meet with me now. I had wrecked everything. I took a couple of pills and lay down on the bed. “I certainly made tonight interesting, didn’t I?”

He sat on the bed next to me and took my hand. “You really stuck that crash landing.”

I smiled. “I didn’t even have time to return my seat and tray table to their upright positions. Your dad’s going to hate me, isn’t he?”

“He won’t care.”

“Won’t your stepmom make him care?”

“Money always trumps family.” He sounded so sad that it made me tear up.

I cleared my throat. “I’m like that china. Broken and difficult to match.”

“Broken things can be mended. And there’s more than one person out there who will be a match.”

But not him. He didn’t see himself as a match for me.

I looked up at the ceiling so that I wouldn’t cry. I’d wanted to impress Marco, for his family to like me. I’d wanted his dad to see me as a serious scientist and businesswoman. Instead, we were here. “This is the most predictable thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

“How?”

“I wore the wrong thing and broke something valuable and now I’m going to spend the rest of the night with gas pains and diarrhea because I ate something I shouldn’t have. On the bright side, the mango shrikhand didn’t kill me, so it’s only going to make me stronger, right?” I joked.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Pretend you don’t hear what’s happening in there?” I said, pointing at the bathroom door.

He smiled and then leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. His lips again felt like he was branding me, burning me.

“It’s a deal,” he said against my skin.



I spent most of the night in the bathroom. Marco brought me cold washcloths for my face and neck, but I was miserable. It took a few hours, but I finally started to feel human again.

I needed a drink of water, but I wanted it in a glass. I went into the bedroom, and Marco was passed out on the bed. He looked so boyish in his sleep, so carefree. I couldn’t help myself. I leaned over to kiss his cheek softly. He stirred in his sleep but didn’t wake up.