Page 115 of The Equation of Us
“Of course,” I say, professional interest immediately engaged. “I’ve been thinking about incorporating some new imaging techniques that might—”
“Not now,” Wexler interrupts gently. “Tonight is a celebration. We’ll talk science on Monday.”
As he moves away to greet another colleague, Dean leans close to my ear. “See? The world didn’t end because people know about us.”
“Apparently they’ve known for a while,” I counter, still processing the betting pool revelation.
“Does that bother you?”
I consider the question, then shake my head. “No. It’s actually kind of… liberating.” I lean against him slightly, no longer worried about who might see. “Though I might never look at Dr. Lin the same way again.”
Dean laughs, the sound warming me from within. “Come on. There’s a biomechanical hand display I want to check out, then maybe we can find something to eat?”
We make our way through the exhibition, stopping at various displays that interest us. Dean’s hand rarely leaves the small of my back, a constant, comforting presence.
I catch myself smiling for no particular reason, happiness bubbling up unexpectedly in quiet moments.
We’re examining a neural mapping display when I spot her—Daphne, elegant in a rose-gold dress, standing near the entrance with a tall man I recognize as her new boyfriend. She hasn’t seen us yet, but it’s only a matter of time in the limited space.
Dean follows my frozen gaze, understanding immediately. “We can go if you want,” he offers quietly. “There’s a side exit near the robotics lab.”
I consider it—the easy escape, avoiding potential awkwardness. But running away feels like a step backward.
“No,” I say, more firmly than I feel. “We’re staying.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” I take a deep breath. “But maybe we could get another drink first?”
Dean smiles, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Whatever you need.”
As we make our way toward the refreshment table, Daphne spots us. Her eyes widen slightly, then she composes herself, saying something to her date before making her way in our direction.
“Moment of truth,” I murmur to Dean.
“It’ll be fine,” he assures me, his hand steady at my back.
Daphne reaches us, her smile polite if not entirely comfortable. “Nora. Dean. Nice to see you both.”
“You too,” I say, willing my voice to sound natural. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She gestures vaguely to our obvious couplehood. “So… this is happening, then? Officially?”
I glance at Dean, drawing strength from his calm presence. “Yes. It is.”
She nods, processing this. “Good. That’s… good.”
An awkward silence stretches between us, years of friendship suddenly reduced to stilted pleasantries.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Daphne says finally. “For both of you. The Archer grants.”
“Thank you,” Dean says. “We were surprised.”
“I wasn’t.” Something genuine breaks through her careful expression. “You’re both brilliant. They’d have been idiots not to recognize that.”
The simple acknowledgment, freely given despite everything, makes my throat tighten unexpectedly. “Daphne—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupts, her voice softening. “Really. This is still… an adjustment. But I meant what I said before. You two make sense together.”
