Time (Laws of Physics #3)(33)

“Good.” Marie’s smile grew, as did the warmth in her eyes. She slipped her arm around my back and held me next to her, hip to hip, turning us to face Abram again. “He wanted me to wake him up when you arrived.”

I worked to keep my chin from wobbling, my mind in disarray. “No, no. Don’t do that. He needs rest.”

“That’s what I decided too. I thought, instead, you could write him a note? Something for next to his bed? And then come back in the morning before he’s discharged.”

“Or, I could stay here.”

Marie squinted at me. “You promised not to sleep at the hospital.”

The potential for a debate helped clear my chaotic mind and rein in my emotions. “Correct. But I’ve been on Geneva time, so it’s morning there. Plus, someone should stay. Plus, you’ve been here all day. Plus, your parents must be exhausted. Plus—”

“Okay, okay. You had me at Geneva time.” Marie released me and covered her mouth to yawn. “You stay, we’ll go, and we’ll be back early in the morning.” She stepped closer and embraced me again, giving me a full body hug, like she meant it. “Thank you for coming. He’s been in a much better mood, been a much better patient, since you called from New York.”

“No problem. I’m just—” I couldn’t continue, choking back some emotion I couldn’t identify. It was the strangest thing.

Obviously, I was worried for Abram. I hated that he was so sick, in pain, frustrated and disappointed. But I was also bizarrely happy, to be here, with this loving family who supported each other, who forgave so easily. It made me feel like, during this anxious time of crisis, everything was going to work out just fine.

Abram was an essential part of something real, meaningful, stable, safe. Which meant, by extension, so was I.

Taking a deep breath, I finished roughly, “I’m happy, so happy, to be here.”

I felt Marie’s cheek smile against mine and she held me tighter. “We’re happy, so happy, that you’re here too.”





9





The Quantization of Energy





Mona





Not going to lie, I spent a considerable portion of the night staring at him, unable to fully comprehend that, after so much time spent waiting and wishing and longing, we were together. But let the record show, I didn’t smell him, though the temptation was a strong force.

I also took a shower, changed into fresh clothes, and got a good amount of work done, chasing a random hunch that ended up leading to a different hunch that ultimately yielded an extremely promising preliminary result. I ended up sending my calculations to Poe, asking him to double-check my math and assumptions. This was not unusual for us—sending notes, data, and calculations back and forth for comment—and he was the only one I’d trust with inception work like this.

After sending the email, I stretched my arms over my head, giving into a yawn, and glanced up to find Abram’s eyes open and watching me. My body jolted, him being awake startled me. His mouth hitched higher on the left side.

“Hey, brown eyes,” he said, sounding just as sick as the day prior. But his voice was soft, sleepy, and full of affection. Part of me melted, part of me tensed.

“Do you need anything?” I set my computer aside, closing it, standing, and stepped next to his bed. My hand sought his. Our fingers entwined. My other hand gently sifted through his hair, testing his forehead. “What can I do? Are you uncomfortable?”

He shook his head in a subtle movement, his gaze lowering to my lips. “I’m great.”

I grinned. “You have the flu, you’re not great.”

“I’m so great.”

That made me laugh, and I indulged myself by caressing his cheek, his stubbly jaw, trying not to frown when I noticed the slight green tinge to his skin, how his eyes lacked vibrancy. He turned his head toward my touch, his lips brushing against my knuckles.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered against my fingers.

“I’m not sure I had a choice,” I admitted thoughtfully to his profile. “I think I might’ve gone crazy if I didn’t see you for myself, make sure you’re okay. Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Some water?”

“Just you.” He lifted his hand to mine and opened my fingers. He then pressed his cheek against my palm, closing his eyes. “Just you.”

We stayed like that for a moment, holding still, being together. He took a deep breath and I heard the rattling in his chest, the crackle and wheeze as he exhaled. He winced, and then so did I.

Yes, I knew, reasonably, rationally, that thousands of people had the flu every year. It was rarely fatal. Most recovered with no lasting effects. And yet, Abram was in pain, now, in this moment. I wanted to alleviate it with a desperation I rarely felt. Emotion was the enemy of physicists—especially theoretical physicists, who spent more time chasing shadows than answers—and desperation had no place in my life.

But I felt desperate now, desperate to do something.

Therefore, hoping to distract him from whatever was making him wince, I asked, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long.” He shook his head lightly, opening his eyes and giving them back to me. “You’re very sexy when you’re concentrating.”