Isabel Wright, Canadian beauty, Chase’s girlfriend… and, apparently, now his fiancée after eleven months of dating? Hehadforgotten her name. Then again, he’d never actually met her. Chase had introduced Bella to the Meyer family during a ski week last year in Steamboat Springs; Ethan hadn’t been there. He’d had a data set under review for his and Dr. Kramer’s research, and the Meyers had assumed—correctly, if he was being fair—that he wouldn’t leave his numbers half-cleaned to go with them to Colorado over the holidays.
They’d made plans without him.
After Chase mentioned the trip during a family dinner, Ethan had received what was clearly an afterthought invitation to sleep on the pull-out couch of their rental cabin. They’d booked a unit with two bedrooms. They’d all known that he wouldn’t come.
But…
—Bunsen returned his frisbee, and he flung it hard across the field again—
…the fact that they’d just assumed?
It had stung.
He’d been savagely productive on Dr. Kramer’s project during that week, though. His supervisor’s subsequent—and after theNature Physicsdebacle, rare—approbation had been more than enough to counter his bruised ego. Dr. Kramer, who only acknowledged excellence, had been pleased with his output.
He’d been pleased today, too.
Well done, Meyer.
Had implying the use of fraudulent research in Erin’s paper crossed a line, though? She’d admitted to employing chunks of public data for her work on the large-scale interactions of astrophysical matter, yes… but in front of Elias Schulz?
Again, however:Well done, Meyer.
That was what mattered. Not her naked shoulder, not her lowered eyes—and not Steamboat Springs with its damn pullout couch—
“Ethan? You there? Did you hear what I—”
He chucked the frisbee a third time, a bit breathless. “Yeah.Uh—Bella. That’s… congratulations.”
“Thanks. The wedding’s next June. Probably at the St. Francis Yacht Club, since she’s a beach babe. But should we already conclude you won’t be bringing a plus one?”
Asking that, like he was sympathetic.
Like he cared that Ethan might have trouble finding dates—when really, he’d just stopped trying. Why bother, when every time he’d asked a girl to a dance or a family function, she’d ended up with Chase by the end of the night? Chase Meyer Jr. was a neurologist—a real doctor like their father, his namesake and colleague at UCSF Medical Center—who didn’t have to get by on a government research scientist’s salary in the Bay Area. Chase wasn’t shy about touting his medical degree from Baylor or his bank account, to Ethan or to any girl that Ethan had ever liked enough to bring home.
Baylor College of Medicine was Chase Meyer Sr.’s alma mater, too.
Yes, he’d stopped trying.
Bunsen’s next frisbee flew off into the undergrowth.
“…Ethan?”
“I had to get Bunsen out of the bushes. Sorry.”
“So, that plus one. Maybe we should hold a spot, just in case. I could probably swing it with Bella. Since you’re my brother. And you never know. I’ll be off the market. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”
“I don’t believe in luck. I believe in work.”
“Then why not bring Dr. K?” Imitating their mother’s voice, Chase said, “We’ve heard so much about him—”
“Shut up.”
“Anyhow. That’s what’s new for me. What’s going on with you these days?”
Galactica Magazine’s acceptance.
Clapping in the auditorium.
