Time (Laws of Physics #3)(34)
“Oh, well, thank you.” I wagged my eyebrows. “Is it the cargo pants? Or the baggy T-shirt that caught your eye? Or perhaps the glasses?” I only wore glasses to read.
His lips twitched, like it took too much effort to smile again. “Hey, by the way. Thank you for the photo, but—”
“You’re welcome. I hope you liked it.”
“I do. But, uh, Mona. I don’t want you to feel pressured to send me that kind of stuff. I’ve been thinking. I’m going to delete it, and you should too. I honestly just wanted to see your smile, I wanted—” he had to stop himself, covering his mouth as he coughed.
Gah. It sounded painful and it made me anxious for him. I passed him a cup of water. He took a sip. I placed it back on the adjustable tray table.
Needing to touch him, I placed my hand on his forearm. “Okay, first. Please don’t delete it. I honestly wanted to send it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, the subtle curve of his lips telling me he didn’t believe me.
“It’s true. When you called me powerful, it struck a nerve. You were right. But you were also wrong.”
Abram’s eyebrows lowered over his eyes, making him look like that news eagle from The Muppets.
I didn’t want him to waste his energy arguing with me about this, so I rushed to add, “I’m not powerful, not like I want to be. Think about it, how powerful can I possibly be if I’m constantly acquiescing to the very people who want to keep me powerless?”
His brow cleared, his eyes were hazy with fever, but I saw I’d said something that resonated.
“Therefore, I sent the photo. I could’ve sent you one of me smiling, just my face, but I didn’t. I wanted to send you that one. And so I did.” The picture made me feel sexy, and it reminded me of that moment between us in the pool, in Chicago, after he’d forfeited the race. The way he’d looked at me, I loved it. Just thinking about his eyes at that moment made my heart race. It was a memory I cherished.
“But.” He tried to clear his throat, wincing slightly. “But if it ever gets out there—”
“I know the risks.” I gave him a resigned smile. “I’m an adult. I’m aware of the possible damage it might do to my credibility, should the photo ever be shared. But if our phones are hacked and it goes public, I’m prepared to weather the storm. In fact, I’ve begun to think of it as an opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“Yes. Someone has to be the woman who stands up and proudly says, ‘Yes. I send my rock star boyfriend sexy photos of me. Why is that relevant to my work?’”
He made a weak sound that almost resembled a laugh. “Mona, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” I knew myself. For better or worse, when I committed to an idea or a cause, I was married to it in the old testament biblical sense.
Abram stared at me quietly, as though searching for some sign of uncertainty or regret. “Tell me something.”
“What would you like to know?”
“What were you doing over there? What are you working on?”
Obviously, he was trying to change the subject. Which made me wonder whether he believed me about wanting to send the photo.
But since he was sick, I let the issue drop. “I was just sending off some preliminary work to a colleague of mine. Poe is a planetary astrophysicist, and my thesis is moving more in the theoretical physics direction and less planetary. Even so, Poe should be able to give it a glance and help me focus my energy in the right direction or tell me who I can trust to take a look.”
“Good,” Abram croaked, giving me another miniscule smile, his gaze moving over me with a sluggish, foggy quality betraying how awful he felt. “You seem energized.”
“I think I made some good headway last night. It’s like, so much of what I do is wandering around in a pitch-black room of indeterminate size, not knowing if I’m going in circles or a straight line or approaching a cliff.”
“Searching the ocean for your white whale.”
“That’s right. I only have so much time, you know? I realize time is a faulty construct, which some argue doesn’t even exist, but yet we’ve made it central to everything. I postulated at one point that time was not a single thing—a thread, if you will—but multiple threads, infinite threads and yet also beads, and feathers, etc., all woven together into a thick tapestry. Pulling one thread wouldn’t change the overall structure of the tapestry as we know it, but it would change the reality for the feathers and beads that rely on that thread. Yes, it might allow us to bend space, but lose reality in the process. Generally, we see time as the past, present, and future, but what if it’s both more and less?”
“How can something be both more and less?”
“Everything is both more and less. Everything is balance. My chromosomal arrangement is more XX, less XY. You are more musician, less airplane pilot.”
His lips curved weakly, but a spark lit behind his eye. “I could listen to you talk about this forever.”
“Then you’re the only one.” I grinned wryly. Seeing the light in his gaze did something wonderful to my stomach, making me feel both full and warm.
“I doubt that.” Abram brought my hand to his lap, cradling it in both of his.
Considering, I sat on the scant sliver at the edge of his bed and amended, “Okay, yes. I do have a few colleagues who also enjoy theorizing with me.”