"That's not?—"
"It is what you just said," she interrupted, standing abruptly. "I understand the sports industry is deeply rooted in sexist paradigms, but I didn't expect you to present this as a fait accompli."
"I'm not—" I stood too, frustration mounting. "I'm trying to figure this out with you."
"It sounds like your agent already figured it out. Keep the inconvenient scientist girlfriend out of sight while you sell hydration products with Instagram models."
"That is not what I want," I snapped, my calm slipping.
"What do you want then?" Kate challenged, green eyes flashing. "Because every previous girlfriend article I found quoted your commitment to privacy and your adamant stance against serious relationships during your career."
"I want you!" The words exploded from me. "Fuck, Kate, I'm trying to navigate this new territory too. I've never had someone worth changing my routines for."
"And I've never had my relationship subjected to public scrutiny or been asked to accommodate someone else'scareer!" she fired back, pacing with agitated energy. "My work involves fourteen-hour days sometimes. I can't just reschedule bacterial cultures because you have a photoshoot in Vancouver!"
"I'm not asking you to?—"
"What happens when our careers inevitably conflict? Whose takes priority?" She grabbed her coffee mug from the side table, gesturing emphatically. "You have sponsors and millions of dollars at stake. I have research that might literally save lives someday. How do we—SHIT!"
The mug slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor. Coffee splashed across my pristine white carpet, spreading like a muddy galaxy against the immaculate backdrop.
We both froze, staring at the disaster in stunned silence.
Then, inexplicably, Kate started laughing—a breathless, slightly hysterical sound that somehow punctured the tension balloon between us. Against all logic, I found myself joining her, the absurdity of arguing about our future while standing over a ruined carpet suddenly hilarious.
"Of all the fucking carpets to spill coffee on," she gasped between laughs, "it had to be your white one."
"It was probably staged in protest against our argument," I managed, wiping tears from my eyes. "Even the furniture is tired of our shit."
Instead of rushing for paper towels, I sank down onto the floor beside the spreading stain. After a moment, Kate joined me, both of us surrounding the coffee catastrophe like it was a campfire.
I glanced at her, still breathless from laughing, and shook my head. “Maybe the universe is just reminding us that love isn’t always tidy.”
Kate looked over at me, her smile softening as she reached for my hand and laced our fingers together. “So maybe we try to meet it with a little structure,” she said gently. “What if we created a shared digital calendar? We could block out non-negotiable commitments and coordinate the flexible ones.”
The simplicity of her solution caught me off guard. "That's... actually brilliant."
"I've been known to have occasional moments of brilliance," she said dryly. "And what if we set aside dedicated time? Even if it's just video calls during travel periods?"
I squeezed her hand. "We could look at the appearance schedule together. Maybe you could join me for some of the weekend ones, if it doesn't conflict with your lab work."
"I might be able to analyze some data remotely," she mused. "Bacteria don't care where I interpret their growth patterns."
Sitting there on the floor, surrounded by ruined carpet and the remnants of our first real fight, I felt something significant shift between us. This wasn't just passion or convenience anymore. This was choosing each other, deliberately, despite complications.
"I love you," I said, the words still new enough to send a thrill through me. "And not just when it's easy."
"Good." Kate leaned over to kiss me, her lips soft against mine. "Because I love you too, and I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of making anything easy."
I pulled her into my lap, her thighs straddling mine as the kiss deepened. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
CHAPTER 21
KATE
Istared at the data on my screen, blinking hard to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. The bacterial samples I'd been torturing for weeks had finally surrendered their secret—a vulnerability in their cellular structure that could revolutionize treatment.
"Holy fucking shit," I whispered, my fingers trembling as I cross-referenced the results. "This can't be real."
