Archive of Our Own

A rather concerning number of pops erupted from Jimmy’s spine when he stood up and stretched. That little voice in his head that’d tempted him with the prospect of grading at home in his comfortable computer chair versus the wobbly university-issued thing he’d been perched on for hours now sat back with a smug, resounding I told you so. Jimmy rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, shrugged into his trench coat, and snapped off the overhead light in his office. At least now he could say his work was done, and he was free—as much as an adjunct could ever really be said to be free—for the remainder of his three-day weekend.

The campus, typically buzzing with undergrads rushing to Saturday-night parties or on their way to crawl through the city, was vacant. Fat, wet snowflakes settled into Jimmy’s hair as he walked alone under the streetlights, hands thrust into his pockets. The only other person he saw was a campus security guard, sheltered under the entry overhang of one of the science halls and smoking a cigarette.

Before him was the eternal question of what to do about food. It was well past nine o'clock, so he’d avoid the usual dining-out crowds, but part of him wanted nothing more than to hail a taxi and head home. But if he did that now, there was an at least eighty-three percent chance he’d doze off on the couch and still have an empty stomach. Best to get something while he was still on his feet.

There was a cafe nearby, The Ivy Leaf, where he’d braved the student lunch rush once or twice and ended up with a pretty decent sandwich for his efforts. Plus, if memory served him right—and it did, because it was near-eidetic—they also served a rotating selection of pies. Probably not as good as his mother’s, but it was worth a try. Jimmy turned up the collar on his coat and the street.

As if affirming his decision, a frigid gust of wind came up and shoved hard at Jimmy’s back. The surrounding tall buildings created a tunnel effect, and the wind seared at his ears. Moments like this made Jimmy question why the hell he’d decided to stay in the Northeast. Texas definitely didn’t have winters like this. He hurried along the sidewalk, his grumbles puffing out into the cold night air ahead of him.

Warmth washed over him as soon as he stepped through the door of The Ivy Leaf, and he shuddered in gratitude.

"Go ahead and seat yourself, hun. Someone'll be over to ya soon," said a passing waitress, carafe in hand.

Jimmy nodded and gazed around the cafe. Most of the center tables were taken up either by nurses from the nearby hospital in their maroon scrubs, or postal workers in their blues. The booths, however, seemed to be unoccupied except for one. A woman sat alone, chin resting on her upturned palm, the table in front of her strewn with coffee mugs.

Ordinarily, he wasn't in the habit of bothering women who were alone in public. And truth be told, he couldn't recall the last time he'd cleaned his glasses. But Jimmy would recognize that scowl anywhere. Coat sweeping out behind him, he strode across the cafe until he stood in front of her booth, finding himself oddly short for breath.

“Cindy?”

She glanced up at him, and he saw her shoulders tense under her white sateen suit jacket. Her hair was piled high on top of her head in one of those buns that was far too intentional to truly be messy, and sparkling drop earrings swung from her ears. Fancy yet distressed.

“Jimmy,” she replied flatly.

“What, no Neutron for old time's sake?”

“No.” Cindy fanned her fingers across the table.

“Do you—I can find somewhere else—”

“We both know you won't do that. Sit.”

Jimmy obliged. Something was off, but past experience told him Cindy wasn't going to divulge anything readily.

A perky waitress popped up out of nowhere, pen aloft over her notepad. “Anything I can get for you?”

“More coffee,” Cindy interjected.

“Actually, you're cut off. Keith says he doesn't wanna call an ambulance because you overdosed on caffeine and went into cardiac arrest.”

“Tell Keith to bite me.”

“Anything for you?” the waitress asked Jimmy.

“Uh, coffee,” he said, “and a slice of cherry pie, if you have that. Apple if you don't.”

“We've got cherry. Not a problem.” The waitress scribbled down Jimmy's order and bounced off.

If possible, Cindy scowled harder. “You just did that to taunt me, didn't you?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn't thinking of you when I was considering my order. But now that you mention it...”

Cindy rolled her eyes.

“I'll let you have a sip or two if you want.”

“No, she's right: I need to be cut off.” Cindy cupped her chin in her hand again. “Not like being wired will help me now.”

It was Jimmy's turn to frown. “Are you in trouble?”

“Depends on your definition of trouble.” By way of explanation, she shoved a coffee mug across the table toward him. “You tell me.”

There was a small tink when the mug came to rest against Jimmy's hands. He peered inside. There, among the brown dregs, lay a twinkling diamond ring. Pear-cut solitaire, far larger than the setting should probably have been able to handle, and a thin platinum band. Jimmy furrowed his brows and glanced up.

“Allegedly you're a genius,” Cindy muttered. “Put it together.”

Despite the fact that he was fried from hours of grading, Jimmy forced himself to think. Not so much a brain blast as a brain fizzle, like carbonation on top of cola.

He was both the first and last person on Earth Cindy would've wanted to run into tonight. Her old rival, appearing in this cafe to be the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was her life. Fitting that the person who'd humiliated her so often in youth would come around again at her personal nadir.

Yet, she conceded as she watched him puzzle this out, they hadn't really been antagonistic in years. They'd softened into friendship after they'd each built a bridge and gotten over themselves. And then there was the—

Seriously, are you really gonna go there right now?

Mercifully, the waitress reappeared at that moment with Jimmy’s coffee and slice of cherry pie, red juice photogenically oozing out onto the plate. She also produced a pitcher of ice water, two red plastic cups textured like broken glass, and a pitying smile in Cindy’s direction.

“Did you get married?” Jimmy finally asked when the waitress left.

Took ya long enough. “Almost.”

“Almost?”

“As in ‘standing there, bouquet in hand, staring down the puke-brown hotel carpet aisle at my future’ kind of almost.”

His eyebrows unknit and shot up his forehead. “You ran out on your wedding?”

“Try not to sound so scandalized.” Cindy leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. Classic defensive maneuver, and they both knew it.

“I’m not, I’m not! I…” Jimmy’s eyes shot off to one side, seeking a diplomatic response. “I’m surprised is all.”

“Not as surprised as my now-ex-fiance, I can guarantee that.”

Jimmy tipped the ring out into his palm to examine it more closely. As the stone sparkled under the yellowish pendant lamp above, Cindy was seized by another flash of imagination: Jimmy on one knee, not at some high-class restaurant but at home next to a hideous plaid couch, smiling as he offered a ring. Not this one, though—one that actually suited her sensibilities.

“...do it?”

Cindy shook her head to clear away her fantasy. “Huh?”

“Why did you do it?”

“Gonna have to be a bit more specific there, Neutron.”

Instead of elaborating, he set the ring down on the table between them, picked up his fork, and cut off the neat corner of his pie slice. A thin rivulet of cherry juice slipped out over his lips when he popped the pie in his mouth, and Cindy tried desperately not to envy Jimmy’s thumb when he swiped it across his face and licked it clean.

“You know, maybe I don’t feel comfortable spilling all my recent mistakes to someone I haven’t spoken to since college.”

Jimmy twisted his lips off to one side and shrugged.

“But since you’re here, I might as well.” Cindy let herself slump back in the booth, arms still crossed over her chest. “I met this guy at a networking event, which should have been my first sign this would inevitably go to hell in a hand basket. His business’ case ended up at my firm, and I was assigned to it, meaning I had to meet with him regularly. Over the phone, in person, whatever. He seemed to genuinely take an interest in me, like, outside of the work I was doing, so I said yes to coffee.”

“I take it all this,” Jimmy circled his fork in the air at the empty mugs, “was some misplaced bid for nostalgia?”

“It’s called ‘I didn’t know what else to do with my hands when I got here,’ smart-ass. Anyway, one night after a while, but maybe not long enough, he popped the question, and I thought, ‘Well...might as well take it while it’s offered.’”

“I don’t follow.”

“Do I need to get a bouncing ball to go along with the words or something?”

“Forgive me, but I’ve been awake since six this morning grading an interminable and highly repetitive stack of lab reports, as well as looking over work that someone else’s TA so generously foisted on me so they could be free to go on their family’s ski trip to Denver. I’m not exactly primed for optimal social analysis.”

Cindy raised an eyebrow. “You’re a professor?”

“Adjunct.”

“Still a professor.”

“Still miserable.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

Jimmy shrugged and cut off another piece from his pie slice. “Might as well take it while it’s offered.” He smirked when he noticed Cindy’s nostrils flare.

“Be serious.”

“I am! Tell me the last time you saw a job board posting that said, ‘GENIUSES WANTED.’ Go on, I’ll wait.”

Glad for the distraction from her own issues, Cindy tapped a finger to her chin in mock deep thought. “Can’t say I’ve seen one lately.”

“Research would be ideal, but opportunities to get into that are infrequent, and then you’re constantly fighting for grants with people who are ostensibly your colleagues. At least in academia I get a relatively steady paycheck.”

“Gee, you almost sound as cynical as me.”

“Learned from the best.” Jimmy smiled at her wryly, and for the first time in far too long, Cindy felt herself smile as well.

“Sorry your job is terrible.”

“Sorry your almost-marriage was terrible.”

“That’s the thing, though.” Cindy unfolded her arms, only to refold them and lean across the table. “It wasn’t terrible, not really. I had...fun...at times. And he was nice.”

“You sound like you’re describing a visit to a mildly interesting art exhibit.”

It may have been a long time since she smiled and meant it, but it’d been even longer since she’d laughed sincerely. The giggling started low in Cindy’s guts and bubbled out into a loud profusion that she had to stifle behind one hand. What Jimmy had said wasn’t all that funny, but set against the emotional backdrop of the day, her brain clocked it as borderline hysterical. And then he had to be sitting there, smiling softly, like she was the most endearing thing in the world at this moment. Not fair. Not fair at all.

“Here.” Jimmy took a sip from his coffee mug, then slid it across the table toward her.

“I already told you, I don’t need—”

“Have some.” Not a command, but a gentle imperative.

Cindy took the mug in both hands and drank deeply, letting the bitterness wash over her tongue. She was going to leave a pink lip tint stain on the rim, but maybe Jimmy would kindly ignore that. She passed the mug back, and his fingers curled around it possessively. To her horror and delight, he spun the handle to the left, the same way she’d had it, and drank, eyes not leaving her face even though his glasses were fogging over.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked.

“Uh…” C’mon, Vortex, keep it together. “For tonight, I don’t know. Camp out here unless Keith decides I’m an occupational hazard and kicks me out.”

Jimmy took another long pull of coffee, mumbling into the mug.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Stay with me tonight. Only if you want to,” Jimmy added quickly. “Not forcing anything. I mean, maybe you’d prefer to sleep on a vinyl booth seat. I don’t know.”

It didn’t escape Cindy’s notice that a blush had blossomed over Jimmy’s face that couldn’t be fully explained away by his drinking a hot beverage. That, combined with the bluish cast of his five o’clock shadow, was unexpectedly alluring.

“You’d get my bed, obviously. I can take the couch, or I think Goddard still knows his cot protocol—”

“Jimmy.”

“Yes?”

“Before you shift that big brain of yours into overdrive…” In a daring move, probably too daring for someone who’d just left someone else at the altar, Cindy reached over the table and placed her hand on top of Jimmy’s. “I’ll stay with you.”

They collapsed into a taxi together, Cindy holding a small roll-around on her lap. She’d had the foresight to run back up to her suite and grab one piece of luggage, but definitely hadn’t had the time to take everything. That would be another portion of tomorrow’s walk of shame, she said.

Except, Jimmy observed as they rode along, Cindy didn’t appear to be all that ashamed. She held her head high, illuminated in profile by the flickering city lights. If anything, she seemed proud of catching herself on the precipice of a big mistake, and Jimmy was proud, too, for that matter. Sad as well, because somewhere along the way, her sense of conviction had evidently faltered. The Cindy he’d known would never settle, would never look at a proposal and say eh, good enough.

“I think I liked the idea of getting married more than the idea of being married.”

Jimmy blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I wanted a party where everyone paid attention to me like I was nine years old.” She shook her head, and a piece of hair fell out of the bun and hung alongside of her face. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“No.”

Cindy unglued her eyes from the headrest and glanced over to him. “No?”

“It’s not wrong to want attention, Cindy. It’s one of the primary motivations of human behavior since we’re a prosocial species.”

“I didn’t realize you were a psychology professor.”

“Physics, actually,” Jimmy corrected, “but my point still stands.”

Cindy huffed out a weak laugh. “You aren’t gonna follow that up with some lecture about how marrying for love is a relatively new social concept and that the better part of history involved treating marriage as more contractual than anything else?”

“Seems like you’ve got that lecture pretty well summarized for yourself.”

She turned more fully toward him and pressed her cheek against the seat back. For a brief moment, Jimmy could picture this night being after their wedding, skipping out on their reception and riding around together. Especially with the way she was looking at him, eyes soft, a tired half-smile playing on her lips.

“It’s good to know you’re still funny,” she said quietly.

Jimmy cast a brief glance over his shoulder to ensure the cabbie wasn’t taking them the long way just to rack up the fare, then turned back to her. There was a small, primal part of him that feared if he looked away for too long, she’d vanish and he’d wake up.

Neither one of them spoke for the rest of the ride. The taxi drifted to a stop outside a twenty-story apartment tower—modest for this city—built of red brick. Ever the gentleman, Jimmy took Cindy’s luggage off her lap and helped her out of her seat by one hand. This, he reasoned, was a perfectly normal reason to hold someone’s hand, and it was perfectly normal for his heart to thud this hard when he hadn’t been so physically close to anyone in an uncomfortably long time.

Just because she ran out on their wedding doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have feelings for the guy, he reminded himself as the elevator brought them to the eleventh floor. Get a grip, Neutron.

He fumbled for his keys far more than he reasonably should have, and as he opened the door, he cursed himself for not texting Goddard to do some light tidying before they left the cafe. At least spritz an air freshener around or something. “Sorry about the mess.”

Cindy gazed around at the spotless kitchen—the only thing out of place being a notepad slightly askew on the refrigerator, covered with a mix of what appeared to be a shopping list and invention ideas—and raised an eyebrow. “You obviously inherited your mom’s obsession with neatness. If you think this is messy, I’d hate for you to see my place.”

“You didn’t live with your fiance?”

“Thankfully, no, I kept my head on straight about that. Maybe it’s a manifestation of only child syndrome, but I need to have my own space.”

Jimmy could certainly relate to that. “Bedroom is that way,” he pointed to the left, “and bathroom is connected to that. Goddard!”

His faithful companion came trotting out from the living room and did an uncanny big canine stretch in front of them.

“Would you mind finding Cindy some spare linens and a toothbrush?”

Goddard barked, then telescoped his neck up to give Cindy a slobbery kiss on the cheek. Cindy swiped the back of her hand over her face, groaning and grinning all at once. “All right, all right, lead the way, ya bucket of bolts. I missed you, too.”

While Cindy and Goddard headed back to the bedroom, Jimmy took off his coat and sorted through the stack of mail from yesterday. Junk, junk, charity solicitation, New Scientist magazine, junk, a thick business envelope from MIT—

“Shit!”

Mail forgotten, Jimmy darted into the bedroom to find Cindy standing in front of her suitcase, which was lying open on the bed.

“I don’t have any pajamas,” she explained. “Well, I do, but I’d packed in anticipation of going directly from the hotel to our honeymoon, and…”

Jimmy caught a glimpse of a very lacy, very red chemise; his face promptly changed color to match.

“I really hate to ask—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I’ve got it.” Averting his eyes, Jimmy spun toward his dresser and rummaged through one of the drawers. He pulled out a black T-shirt his dad had given him for April Fool’s Day one year—it said Never Trust Atoms, They Make Up Everything!—and a pair of faded blue plaid cotton pajama pants. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Her fingertips brushed his, and he swore he could feel sparks jump between them. “Um, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go shower. The stylist put about five pounds of hairspray on me earlier, and I hate how sticky it feels.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine!” Why was his voice coming out so much higher than normal? “All good, don’t mind—yeah.”

He turned in time to see her smiling at him, pajamas clutched under one arm. The bathroom door clicked closed a couple seconds later, and Jimmy heaved out a huge sigh. “What is wrong with me?” he muttered.

Goddard, who’d remotely analyzed Jimmy’s vital signs and ascertained the issue within five seconds of his creator walking in the door, whined reproachfully. Jimmy ignored him and busied himself with his own nighttime routine: changing into his own pajamas, combing his hair, cleaning his glasses, and swigging and spitting mouthwash into the kitchen sink. He grabbed the copy of New Scientist, went back to the bedroom, and sat lightly at the foot of the bed. This, he reasoned, was so he could make sure Cindy had everything she needed before he settled down for the night. Not because he wanted something from her.

Not that you have the right to demand anything, anyway, he reminded himself.

Partway through Jimmy reading the cover story, the bathroom door opened and steam billowed out. Cindy walked in, toweling her hair and humming to herself. The sight of her in his clothing should not have made his stomach flip-flop, yet it did. He sprung to his feet, magazine falling to the floor, and his sudden motion made her stop, too.

“Sorry, sorry, I—”

“Why are you apologizing? This is your bedroom.” Cindy pitched the towel toward the hamper, where it landed neatly on top.

“Yes, but I said you could have it for tonight, so I’m intruding. I—you’ve had a long day, and you need to rest, and I just wanted to check—”

“Jimmy.” She stepped closer, and he really, really should have stepped back, but something in her eyes froze him in place. Her hand was warm, so very warm, on his forearm; he hoped to Alpha Centauri she couldn’t feel the goosebumps rising under her touch.

“We can’t,” he breathed.

“We can.”

“But—”

“I don’t love him.”

If she was honest with herself, Cindy had never really loved Mark. Work had brought them into close contact, so their relationship was more a matter of convenience than anything else. And call her stubborn, crazy, romantic, or all three, but she didn’t think marriage should be about convenience.

She didn’t believe in fate, either, but there was some force in the universe that had brought her on a collision course with Jimmy tonight. And he certainly seemed to be receptive to the idea of picking back up where they’d left off years ago; he might have thought he was being stealthy, but she could tell he was staring at her the entire taxi ride here. To say nothing of literally sharing a cup of coffee at the diner. So she had to break through this wall of chivalry, or whatever it was holding him back, if they were going to get anywhere.

“I don’t love him,” Cindy repeated, shaking her head to underscore her words. “I didn’t just ditch Mark at the altar for fun. I looked down that aisle, and all I could see was me repeating my parents’ mistakes. Ending up in a loveless marriage where you both end up seething with resentment until one of you gets sick of drinking the poison.”

“Sorry, your fiance’s name is Mark?”

Cindy blinked. “Yes?” At seeing Jimmy screw up his face, she added, “What?”

“That is so...not euphonic. Cynthia and Mark.”

“I didn’t pick his first name!”

“I know! I know! I—” Jimmy snickered. “It’s late, and everything seems much funnier than it is.”

Cindy stepped a little closer. “Then come to bed with me.”

She could see him make a move to scratch the back of his neck—apparently that old nervous habit had stuck around through the years. Best to beat him to the punch. She reached up and stroked over the peach fuzz on his nape, feather-light, and watched his eyelids flutter.

“What if I don’t feel like sleeping yet?” he whispered.

“That makes two of us.”

Desire pooled in Jimmy’s eyes, and Cindy seized her opportunity. Their lips met, sweet and urgent, her hand twisting up into his hair while his hand cupped her cheek. She pushed in, chest-to-chest, and Jimmy wrapped his other arm around her upper back.

“No need to be so chaste, James.” Cindy pulled away from their kiss and wriggled, encouraging him to move his arm lower.

“Maybe I want to take things slow, Cynthia.” Jimmy pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and trailed back over her cheek.

“Maybe I need a professor to teach me the art of patience.”

“And what if my office hours are closed for the day?”

“Can’t you make an exception?” She worked a hand under the hem of his shirt and grazed her fingers over the softness of his stomach, and he shuddered in response.

“For you?” Jimmy hummed and kissed the spot just below her ear. “Yes.”

She shoved him lightly, and he fell back onto the bed, landing on his forearms.

“By the way,” Cindy said as she crawled on top, “happy Valentine’s Day.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Is it the fourteenth already? Wow, I’m really late getting those reports back—wait,” he shook his head. “You were going to get married on Valentine’s Day?”

“Wasn’t my idea. In hindsight, I think it was so he,” Cindy was already committed to expelling Mark’s name from her memory, “could double up on romantic obligations. Can’t forget your anniversary so easily if it falls on a holiday.”

“True.” Jimmy wound a still-wet strand of Cindy’s hair around his finger and let it unwind on its own.

“Besides, you kind of own Valentine’s Day for me in my mind.”

“How so?”

“You literally gave me your heart when we were kids! Okay, so maybe it wasn’t literal, but it was anatomically accurate.”

Jimmy winced at the memory of that fateful, pheromone-fueled day. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I did more than remember, genius. I kept the valentine.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I…” Cindy hesitated, her own heart pounding. “I looked at it yesterday, since I knew I wouldn’t be able to today. I’ve looked at it every year, actually. The hologram is kinda starting to glitch now, but it still works.”

She wished she had a camera to capture the awestruck way Jimmy was staring at her now. She wished she had a bottle to capture the sweetness of his kiss, and a tape recorder to capture how softly he sighed her name in between kisses. All the while, as they tumbled and touched, every trace of doubt that she’d made the right decision faded from her mind.

A thin ray of light streamed through the curtains and across the side of Jimmy’s face, waking him up far sooner than he wanted. There was, however, an upside: getting to see Cindy curled into the sheets next to him, legs tangled with his, breathing heavy.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she made a big show of stirring, too big to have actually been asleep. Jimmy didn’t bother with an accusation, just laid his head back down on the mattress and let her come to him for a kiss on the mouth.

“Is it too early to ask you something?” Cindy asked.

“Not if you’re the one asking.”

“What happened to the ring?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes to the ceiling, trying to recollect. “’S in my coat pocket, I think.”

“Good. ‘Cause I didn’t bother to pick it up. Probably would have opened the taxi window and thrown it in the river if I had.”

“I’m given to understand you’re supposed to return the ring if you break off an engagement.”

Cindy huffed. “I was hoping I could avoid looking at Mark’s dumb face again. Maybe I’ll courier it to him.”

“Didn’t you have other luggage back at the hotel?”

“He bought the luggage, and it’s all full of new clothes he bought me. Which, if I play my cards right…” Cindy pushed herself up on her elbows and knees and crawled on top of Jimmy, smirking. “I won’t need any today.”

“What a coincidence,” Jimmy said, smirking back. “I don’t think I’ll be needing any, either.”