They all needed to move on.
As Jessica headed toward Jon’s office, she allowed herself to imagine the glorious day his divorce finally became final. Knowing Jon, he wouldn’t call her from the courthouse but would instead plan a surprise celebration at one of Chicago’s best restaurants or, better yet, a romantic weekend away—maybe somewhere like California wine country. He’d arrange a private tasting, where they’d toast his freedom and the end of the stress that had kept him from being completely present, before planning a future around loving each other and working together on behalf of humankind.
The Pierre and Marie Curie of childhood cancer . . .
She couldn’t help but grin at the possibilities and the magnitude of their life’s mission. That was, until she rounded the corner and spotted him sitting on the corner of his desk with a charming smile. Had he not been so deep in conversation, he would have looked up and their eyes would have met through his office’s glass wall. Instead, he continued to chat and laugh with Kate. Silken-haired, blue-eyed, brilliant Kate, who couldn’t be questioned directly by anyone but him. And, unlike the brief moment in which Jessica had touched Philip on the arm to usher him into her office, Jon’s hand lingered on Kate’s shoulder.
Jessica backed away, now praying he wouldn’t notice as she scampered toward the safety of her office.
He didn’t.
Jon wasn’t a flirt. He didn’t ogle attractive women or chat up pretty waitresses. He always gave Jessica his full attention. More than that, he was always professional. Jessica had simply gotten jealous because she’d never seen him interact in such a relaxed way with another woman. And Kate wasn’t just any woman—she was a highly respected coworker who’d been at Cancura since the beginning. And work was work. If they were going to succeed both professionally and personally, Jessica needed to be pragmatic and tactical, not immature, emotional, and groundlessly suspicious.
Given that Jon often skipped lunch in favor of a noon workout in the fitness center, Jessica decided a friendly gym chat—with no specific mention of Philip or Kate—was the best way to navigate the situation.
Not that there was a situation.
“Hey, you,” Jon whispered conspiratorially as she climbed on the elliptical machine beside his in an otherwise empty corner of the fitness center.
“Hey,” she said, setting the timer for thirty-five minutes.
“I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you?” Doing her best to sound casual and unconcerned.
“Kate stopped by my office this morning.”
Jessica winced at the sound of her name on his lips but was relieved he’d broached the subject and she didn’t have to. Or had he seen her approach his office, after all?
“I brought her up to speed on the new lab results,” Jon said. “I hadn’t told her or anyone else about it because I wanted to be sure the process was as pure as possible.”
“How did she take it?”
“She was delighted to learn our testing is as accurate as we’d hoped. Per your concern, I’m authorizing funding to increase our in-house capacity.”
“That’s great news,” she said, happy for a win and leaving Philip’s concern about identical test results for another day. “Wasn’t Kate peeved that you kept something that important from her?”
“You certainly have a handle on her,” he said, as if she really did.
Not quite knowing what to say next, Jessica worked out beside Jon in silence for a few minutes, breathing harder as the resistance increased on the elliptical’s hill program.
“Hey,” she finally said. “Am I missing anything where Kate is concerned?”
Jon slowed slightly. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. You seem . . . I don’t know . . . particularly protective of her or something.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “I have to keep her happy. Every time I turn around, some top research outfit or pharmaceutical company is trying to wine, dine, and steal her from me.”
“From you?” Jessica said before she could stop herself.
“Jessie,” he whispered in the sweet way he usually reserved for home. “I’m going to have the same problem with you before I know it.”
“Is that what you say to all the lady doc—?”
“Don’t be sexist, it’s against company policy,” he said, flashing the smile that had gotten her upset in the first place. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about where Kate is concerned. You know that, right?”
“I do,” she managed to say, feeling ever so slightly choked up. “I do.”
“Now stop dawdling,” he said, reaching over and increasing the resistance on her machine.
As he did, she noticed a large bruise on his right biceps. Actually four smaller, fingerprint-shaped bruises grouped together. She glanced over at his left and saw what looked like a thumbprint on his inner arm.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“What’s what?”
“On your biceps. Those bruises.”
He glanced down and shook his head. “Jujitsu.”
“Jujitsu?”
“One of the potential investors is a martial arts fanatic with a fucking dojo in his house. I had no choice but to suit up for a lesson, during which I got tossed around like a rag doll.”
“Ouch,” Jessica said, examining the bruises again.
“No pain, no gain. Right?”
Chapter Twelve
HOLLY
You are the problem solver. Always have your white horse saddled and ready.
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
Holly hated having to check up on Jack, even though she told herself she was confirming her memory as much as his story. She’d finally admitted the kick from Wags had given her a concussion, and even if her stupid pride had kept her from having it properly diagnosed, she still didn’t think it mattered much because the headaches were gradually abating and her spacey moments were becoming fewer and farther between. If only it weren’t for the nagging uncertainty introduced by Cynthia during Maeve’s
