Chapter 32

As soon as Thomas leaves the room, Maria turns to me with a Cheshire Cat grin on her face. "My. My. My. You could cut the sexual tension in this room with a knife. Did something happen in Rome?"

I roll my eyes. "No, nothing happened in Rome. It was a business trip," I say dismissively, but I can feel the heat coloring my cheeks.

Maria raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Uh-huh, sure. Well, if you ever want to vent about your repressed feelings for Thomas, you know where to find me."

I laugh and playfully shove her. "Shut up, Maria."

We walk out of the office and join the others, making our way to a nearby bistro for lunch.

I make a point of sitting at the opposite end of the table to Thomas.

I know it isn't fair to him, but I'm too embarrassed by the reactions being near him causes, especially when we're in public and within view of our co-workers.

When we finish our meal and head back to the office, I grab my laptop and am about to flee the room to go work someplace else, when Thomas steps in, blocking the door.

He takes one look at my flustered face and the laptop in my arms and it's as if he can read "escape plan" on my forehead.

Thomas suppresses a smile and steps slightly to the side to let me pass, but as I'm scurrying past him, he stops me, grabbing me gently by the arm and leaning in to whisper in my ear, his voice low and serious, "We'll figure it out."

I look up at him in surprise. I'm dying to ask when he's going to talk to his father about making the switch from Mercer Robotics. But he told me yesterday in the note that he's planning on doing it soon, and I don't want to seem pushy. Clingy. Needy. Desperate. Even if I feel all these things.

I wish feelings were as simple as an algorithm. I could change a few variables and tell my heart not to trash in my chest every time Thomas looks at me this way. But love is irrational, impractical, inconvenient. There's no logic. It's the opposite of an algorithm. No control. Only a plunge into the void and blind faith.

So, I simply nod and flee the office to go work in an empty conference room in a quest to avoid his proximity as much as I can for the rest of the day.

When I come back a few hours later, Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and I have no one to blame but myself for the pit of disappointment in my stomach. I wish K-2P goodnight and grab my things to head home.

As I eat microwavable fettuccine Alfredo on the couch alone, I'm melancholic about Italy. I stir the food in my bowl without much appetite. Now that I've tasted real pasta, the way it's supposed to be made, the knock-off version is no longer cutting it. I drop the half-finished meal in the sink and go grab my bag from where I've dropped it on the floor. The only thing that could cheer me up right now is one of Thomas's notes—at least while the author himself remains off-limits.

I find the blue Post-it lying at the bottom. But before I read it, I change into PJs and get ready for bed. I bring the small sheet of blue paper to bed with me and finally scan the handwritten note.

Is Maria onto us? Don't worry, I've made an appointment to speak with my father tomorrow morning.

PS. I left something for you in your desk, first drawer on the right.

The note brings me relief and unrest simultaneously. I'm glad that he's going to talk to his father right away like he promised, but now I'm also frothing at the mouth to know what he's left hidden in my desk.

Ah, well, I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

I scoot under the covers and switch off the light. Resting my head on the pillow, I close my eyes. Then open them, staring at the black ceiling. I turn on my right side and force my lids shut. I toss and roll over to my left side. Then I sprawl on the bed in starfish pose and exhale a puff of air, trying to calm my restless mind. But I can't shake off the need to find out what surprise Thomas has left for me.

Well, it's not like I'm going to get up in the middle of the night and go back to the office just to find out. It's not. I couldn't. Could I?

I turn the lights back on and check the time on my phone. It's barely a few minutes past nine—a slight jet leg had me go to bed early—but now I'm wide awake. I could go back to the office and be back in bed before eleven. And it'd be better than spending the entire night tossing and turning, wondering…

My mind made up, I throw the covers away from my body and hop off the bed. I grab a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie that I pull over my silk PJs. Sneakers and a coat are next, and then I'm already out of the apartment and sprinting down the road toward the dark subway station at the corner.

The train is the same as always, still full of people coming back from working late or heading out for a night of fun. But the journey feels longer than it ever did, making me sigh in relief when I finally arrive at the station closest to our offices.

The streets here are dark and desolate at this hour as Mercer Industries headquarters are located in an office district. I hurry the few blocks to the building and swipe my badge at the entrance doors, feeling much safer as I slip past them.

The hall is still and quiet as I cross the lobby, but as I reach the lower level, I find the lights in the lab still on. I expect to find Maria lost working on one of her algorithms, or Ari testing out a new prototype… but to my surprise, when I peep through the glass door windowpane, I discover K-2P standing next to Thomas while they both look intently at the giant robotic arm that has been giving me so many headaches lately.

They seem totally lost in their research while completely ignoring the time…

I cautiously open the lab door, not wanting to startle them.

Thomas still hears the noise and lifts his head.

"Hi," I say, already slightly out of breath as our eyes meet. I cross the lab to join them at Ari's station. "What are you still doing here? I thought you'd already gone home?"

"I was upstairs, bribing my father's assistant for a last-minute appointment." Thomas smiles, melting all my reproductive organs. "Then we got lost having a look at the big guy," he explains, patting the misbehaving robotic arm. "I know I don't understand anything about robots, but I was pretty good at statistics in college. So, I asked K-2P to run a diagnostic on all our failed trials and see if he could find a pattern."

My gaze drifts down to my small droid. "Did you find anything?"

He gives me a negative bleep.

"I'm sorry." Thomas shrugs. "I knew it was a long shot, so I didn't want to say anything about it."

"And you spent all evening here, working on this? Why?"

"I saw how worried you were about this project and wanted to pitch in."

Before my heart can burst into flames and explode in my chest, he adds, "Sorry I'm useless." He rotates his shoulders. "And now I'm also sore."

"Sore?"

"Yeah, this guy"—he pats the robotic arm again—"is a pain to move. We ran a few simulations and the recoil almost kicked me flat on my bum, I don't know how Ari operates it with those skimpy arms of hers."

"Oh my gosh." I slap a hand over my forehead. "Oh my gosh! This entire time we've been looking at this wrong. We've been going for a sensor-based, hand-guiding system, compensating only for the inertia of the robot but not the inertia of the operator. That's why it never calibrated right, but if we switched to a method based on torque control…" I look at Thomas and my entire world tilts.