The Soulmate Equation by Christina Lauren

SIX

JESS’S HANDS WERE shaking so uncontrollably that, as she walked, she could barely type out a text plea to Pops to come pick her up with the address of the building. Somehow the hall had stretched; it took her a century to get to the elevator, and when she pushed the button, she heard its slow grind up from the bottom floor.

Feet jogged down the hall. They didn’t sound like Lisa’s heels, and yeah—when Jess looked up, she saw River making his way toward her.

“Jessica,” he said, holding up a hand. “Hold on a second.”

Was he serious? Jess turned and continued toward the door labeled EXIT, pushing into the stairwell. Ten hurried steps down before the door clanged shut behind her; the sound was so jarring it actually made her duck. Half a flight above, the door flew open again. Footsteps tap-tap-tapped down toward her, and Jess accelerated, jogging down to the first level and emerging into the lobby.

River managed to get out only a patient, echoing “Jessica, wait” before the lobby stairwell door sealed shut.

It didn’t matter; he would invariably catch her outside. Because although Pops had replied that he was out getting the cake and could get there quickly, it wasn’t like he could drive to La Jolla in three minutes. At least outside she could breathe a precious handful of seconds of fresh air, could think without the pressure of everyone’s stunned attention on her. What were they thinking, dropping something so personal in a room full of strangers?

Wrapping her arms around her midsection, Jess paced the sidewalk in front of the building, waiting. When she heard River emerge, she expected him to start talking right away, but he didn’t. He approached her slowly, cautiously, and came to a stop about ten feet away.

For maybe three seconds, Jess liked him for giving her space. But then she remembered that he wasn’t usually so considerate … and he was supposedly her soulmate.

The absurdity of that meeting finally hit her like a slap, and she coughed out an overwhelmed laugh. “Oh my God. What just happened?”

He spoke through the chilly quiet. “It was a surprise to me, too.”

His words felt like an echo between them. They surprised him? “How? You—you know everyone in that room. Why would they tell you like that?” she asked. “Why would they have everyone there, like some kind of a reality show?”

“I can only assume they wanted us all to have a conversation about how to handle it.”

“‘Handle it’?” she repeated. “You really are dead inside, aren’t you?”

“I meant handle for the company. I’m sure it’s occurred to you that the optics of one of the founders having the highest recorded compatibility score is both fantastic and fraught, from a marketing perspective.”

“Any woman would be lucky to hear these words from her”—Jess used finger quotes—“‘biological soulmate.’”

He exhaled slowly. “I also assume they were worried that if they told you remotely, you wouldn’t come in.” River shrugged, sliding one hand into his trouser pocket. “Sanjeev—the head of assay development—is a close friend. I’d mentioned our run-in downtown to him, and your blowing up at me—”

“My ‘blowing up’ at you?”

“—and word probably spread when the result came in and your name was associated.”

“‘Associated’?” Unproductive, but the only thing she could focus on was the way he spoke like he was reading aloud from a textbook. God, Siri carried on a more familiar conversation.

“I’m sorry that we have to consider the business implications of all of this,” River said, “but I assume you understand this is a really big deal, on several levels.”

Jess stared at him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he was allowing for at least one of these levels being human emotion. “Uh, yeah, I get that. But we don’t have to consider anything. I mean—there’s no way, River. We both know it’s an error, right? Or if not an error, that the compatibility paradigm doesn’t apply to us.”

“Why is it your first assumption that the technology is wrong?”

“Why isn’t it yours?”

He laughed dryly, looking past her. “The DNADuo has been validated thousands of times. If we got scores of ninety-eight all the time, I’d be more skeptical.”

“I can’t imagine being less skeptical. Every thought in here”—Jess pointed to her head—“is either ‘LOL no’ or ‘Surely you jest.’” She paused, taking him in. “How can you look at me with a straight face right now?”

He reached up, running a hand through his hair. “Biological compatibility is independent of whether or not we like each other.”

A horrified laugh ripped out of her. “Is that the company slogan or your best pickup line?”

“Listen, I’m not—” River broke off, exhaling a long, slow breath. “How do we proceed?”

“I’m not even sure what that means, ‘proceed.’” Jess hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to head home.”

“It means we see if the science has made an accurate prediction.”

“You’re client number one,” she reminded him. “If we’re having this conversation, I’m guessing you’re single and none of your other matches worked out, either. Let’s assume this one will follow that trajectory.”

“You’re my first,” he said matter-of-factly, adding, in response to her baffled expression, “I haven’t had any other matches. I set stringent criteria.”

“How—what does that even mean?”

River took a cautious step closer. “I selected to see only Diamond Matches.”

Jess maintained eye contact with him for five … ten … fifteen seconds. His gaze was steady, unblinking, and rational, and an abrupt thought crashed into her mind: I bet he’s good at everything he sets his mind to. What if, just for one minute, I let myself imagine that this is real? What then?

His eyes dipped briefly to her mouth, and Jess had the feeling he was asking himself the same question. Her thoughts were unexpectedly hijacked by a flashing image of him staring down at her, shirtless, watching her reaction to the pressure of his hand between her legs.

Jess had to blink—hard—to clear the image away. “Why would you set your criteria that strict?”

She knew her reasons, but what about his? A romantic soul would say that they were only interested in true love, but River’s beat of hesitation told her his answer was grounded in something much more logical. “Initially because the goal wasn’t to find myself a partner,” he said. “It’s been a protracted longitudinal study, and we’ve all been focused on getting to this point. I stopped thinking about my own client information a long time ago.”

It wasn’t the worst answer; Jess could understand how much focus it took to keep a business afloat, let alone one with employees. This all just seemed completely impossible to her.

She heard Pops’s old clunker turning into the parking lot, and River’s angular face was briefly illuminated by the headlights. His guarded scowl made his profile aggravatingly more handsome.

Something in her expression must have softened, because he took a few steps closer. “Let’s talk about it some more,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s exciting,” he said quietly. “Isn’t it?”

If she could only make herself believe this result, learning to tolerate his face for the sake of science wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?

“I guess.”

River gave her a shy smile that hit her like a thunderbolt. “And the timing couldn’t be better for launch.”

HALFWAY THROUGH HERbirthday dinner, Jess’s phone chimed. It wasn’t the DNADuo app—she’d deleted that thing as soon as they pulled away from the curb outside GeneticAlly—it was her work email. Normally she wouldn’t check until morning, but she’d been stewing all day and there’d been crickets from Jennings Grocery. So while Juno regaled Nana and Pops with a dramatic reenactment of Cole Mason getting his penis stuck in his zipper at school, Jess covertly reached for her phone.

Ms. Jessica Davis,

This is a formal notification that we are terminating your contract as detailed in Appendix IV. The remaining balance owed of $725.25 for STATISTICAL FORMULA + MARKETING ALGORITHM will be direct-deposited as agreed to account XXXXXXXXX-652. We would like to thank you for the work you have provided us during the last three years and wish you only the best.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact us.

Regards,

Todd Jennings

Jennings Grocery

Jess felt like she’d just pulled the pin from a grenade and swallowed it down. Seven hundred dollars deposited into her account, but the remaining eighteen thousand wouldn’t be coming in this year, or ever. Thirty percent of her income was gone. Anxiety tore through her—hot, feverish—and she closed her eyes, taking ten deep breaths.

One … Two …

She still had three active contracts. After taxes she could still bring in thirty thousand dollars this year. It would be tight, and unless she got some new clients, there wouldn’t be much left over for extras, but she would be able to cover rent and health insurance.

Three … Four … Five …

Maybe she could get on a payment plan for Juno’s ballet class.

Six … Seven …

They wouldn’t starve.

Eight … Nine …

They had a roof over their heads.

Ten …

Slowly, her pulse returned to normal, but the alarm had left her feeling worn out and dented. Turning her phone facedown on the table, Jess reached for the bottle of wine and poured, stopping only when the liquid formed a glossy meniscus at the lip of the glass.

“Wow.” Pops whistled. “Everything okay over there?”

“Yup.” Jess bent down, sucking the first sip so that she could lift the glass without spilling. It’s my birthday, she thought. I’m getting smashed.

Pops shared a look with Nana before he turned to Juno. “Miss Junebug?” he said.

She slurped a spaghetti noodle into her mouth. “Hmm?”

“Think you could go back to my place and find my glasses? There were a few crossword clues I needed your mama’s help with.”

Juno’s chair screeched away from the table, and she squinted suspiciously, pointing a marinara-tipped finger at him. “Don’t have cake without me.”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

They watched as she raced out the back door and through the courtyard to the bungalow, Pigeon trailing behind her.

“Well, that bought us about thirty seconds,” Nana said with a laugh.

“I’ll give her sixty.” Pops reached into the pocket of his sweater and pulled his glasses from the case. He gave Jess a teasing wink before slipping them on. “Now, it’s your birthday, Jessica.” He leaned in, pretending to study her. His eyes were pale, watery, full of love. “What’s this face? Does it have to do with me picking you up earlier? The man outside?”

“No.”

“He sure did seem upset when we drove off.”

“He’s a jerk, but this isn’t about him.” If it were just about River and his stupid test, this would be easy. Jess had deleted the app and could ignore him at Twiggs. Done.

But it wasn’t nearly that simple.

“What is it, then?” Nana Jo asked.

Jess leaned her elbows on the table and propped her head in her hands. It weighed about eighty pounds. “Oh … just life.” She picked up her phone again, opening it before handing it over to let them read the Jennings email. “This was one of my bigger accounts. We disagreed on how to move forward, and they’re letting me go.”

Nana’s face fell and she placed her hand on Jess’s. “I’m so sorry, sugar.”

“Money can be fixed,” Pops said. “We’ll always help you.”

Jess squeezed his hand in wordless thanks. They had raised Jamie and Jess, and now helped with Juno. She was supposed to be taking care of them at this point in her life, not the other way around.

“It’s not just money.” Jess took a breath, trying to arrange her thoughts in some sort of order. “I mean it is, but it’s also me. I feel like I’m in this holding pattern, raising Juno, making ends meet, trying to keep things moving until my life actually begins. I was just starting to think how silly that is and how I need to get out more. But now this,” she said, waving her phone for emphasis. “I worked my butt off for this account, and they’re going to replace me tomorrow because there are a hundred other people with looser morals who can do what I do.” Jess pressed her fingers to her temples. “I need to look for a second job. I don’t want you taking care of me.”

“Are you kidding?” Pops argued. “Who takes us to our appointments? Who helps us when we don’t know how to use a damned iPhone? Who found our trainer and helps Nana Jo with the garden? You work hard, Jessica, and you’re raising that amazing little girl.”

The amazing little girl herself bounded back in and pointed accusingly at her great-grandfather. “Pops! Your glasses are on your face!”

“Would you look at that!” He adjusted them over his nose, pulling his crossword closer to peer down at it. “I bet you know a three-letter word for ‘regret,’ don’t you, Jess?”

Jess smiled. “Rue.”

“See? What would we do without you?” He grinned at her over the top of his glasses before penciling the word in.

ONCE HER GRANDPARENTSwere gone, Jess leaned against the closed door. Fatigue settled flabbily into her muscles, aching deep into her bones. She felt much older than thirty. Walking through the quiet apartment, she picked up Juno’s shoes, the stray socks, the cat toys, more than one cup half-full of milk, pencils, food orders on Post-it notes from Juno and Pops playing Restaurant. She set the coffee timer, packed up Juno’s backpack, loaded the dishwasher, and glanced around the space for any other random detritus before flicking off the light and walking down the hall to her daughter’s room.

Juno had fallen asleep with Frog and Toad Are Friends open on her chest again, her mermaid light still on. Jess deposited Pigeon on her fancy three-tiered cat post near the window, but she immediately jumped down and onto the bed, happily curling herself into a ball at Juno’s feet.

Jess closed Juno’s book and put it on the nightstand, tucked the blankets up to her chin, and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress at her side. In her sleep, Juno frowned. Her hair spilled coppery across the light pink pillowcase. Jess hadn’t seen Alec in almost two years, but looking at their daughter was like seeing him every day anyway. She had Jess’s eyes but got his strikingly metallic chestnut hair, dimpled smile, and grumpy crease in the middle of her forehead. Jess smoothed her thumb across Juno’s warm, kid-sweaty brow and gave herself two deep breaths to wish he were here, before remembering that she hadn’t loved him in a long time and didn’t need his help. Empty companionship was lonelier than being alone.

Alec wasn’t a bad guy; he just didn’t want to be a dad. He’d never pressured Jess to terminate the pregnancy, but he’d made it clear where he stood. In the end, Jess chose Juno over him, and they both had to live with that. He got to enjoy his twenties, but every one of their friends thought he was an asshole; Jess got a delightful child but had to learn how to hustle to make ends meet. She never regretted her choice for a single breath, though, and was pretty sure he hadn’t, either.

Heavy with exhaustion, Jess switched the lamp off and slipped quietly out of the room, startling in the hallway when the doorbell pierced the silence. Pops left his glasses at Jess’s more nights than he didn’t, and pulling her sweater tighter around her chest, Jess walked quietly to the living room to peek out the window. But it wasn’t Pops.

It was Jamie.

Jess used to feel a potent mix of reactions when she saw her mother—relief, anxiety, excitement—but at this point it was primarily dread, and as a mother herself now, she found that realization so deeply bleak.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Jess hesitated with her hand on the knob before opening the door. Jamie Davis had worn many labels—cocktail waitress, addict, stadium usher, girlfriend, recovering addict, homeless—but none of them had ever been “devoted mother.” On the rare occasion she had shown up to one of Jess’s school events or a softball game she was usually hungover—sometimes still drunk—and reeking of cigarettes or marijuana. She would make a show, cheering for Jess, being proud of her. Sometimes she would bring a group of her rowdy friends calling themselves “Jessie’s Cheering Squad.” Inside, Jess would die of embarrassment, and then panic that Jamie would see it all over her face, that she would leave in a fit of anger and not come around again for weeks.

And there she was, still beautiful—she’d always been beautiful—but with a powdery finish to her beauty now, something both artificial and dull. A lifetime of bad habits had finally caught up.

“My girl!” Jamie pushed forward, wrapping her daughter in a quick one-armed hug before stepping back and shoving a set of bath bombs in Jess’s hands. They’d started to disintegrate inside the cellophane, and the brightly colored dust leaked out onto Jess’s fingers. She knew her mother well enough to guess Jamie had bought them as an afterthought while grabbing a pack of menthol lights at the convenience store down the street.

Jamie stepped around her and into the dark living room.

“Hey,” Jess said, closing the door. “What’s the occasion?”

Her mother set her giant purse on the coffee table and looked at her, wounded. Her lipstick slowly bled up into the tiny lines around her mouth. “I can’t see my baby on her twenty-eighth birthday?”

Jess didn’t point out that Jamie was off by two years, or the many other birthdays she’d missed. Frankly Jess was surprised her mom remembered her birth date at all; her sporadic visits weren’t generally timed to life events.

“Of course you can,” Jess said. “Do you want to sit down? Can I get you something?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” Jamie walked into the kitchen, tapping her acrylic nails along the counter, and then glanced down the hall. “Juno, honey? Where’s my beautiful grandbaby?”

“She’s in bed, Mom.” Jess shushed her. “It’s late, and she has school tomorrow.”

Jamie threw her an annoyed look. “Kids should go to sleep when they’re tired. All these rules just make them anxious and depressed. That’s why we have so many of them on medication these days.” She scanned Juno’s spelling test on the refrigerator, the birthday card she’d made for Jess, a grocery list. “People need to listen to their bodies. If you’re tired, sleep. If you’re hungry, eat something. Parents need to stop scheduling these kids to death.”

Carefully, Jess set the bath bombs on the counter. “I take an antidepressant every day,” she said with careful calm. “Guess that no-schedule theory isn’t a sure thing.”

Jamie ignored this to continue her perusal of the apartment, casually glancing at the spines of library books on the table, flipping through a few pages on one of Juno’s about horses. Thanksgiving was the last time Jess had seen her mother. Jess had transferred five hundred dollars into Jamie’s checking and hadn’t heard a word since. Jamie had been living in Santa Ana then. They’d met at a Denny’s—Jess paid—and Jamie lamented how her utilities had been shut off because the bank made an error. They’d taken the automatic withdrawal early, she’d insisted. Those fees had made other payments bounce, and it snowballed from there. But it hadn’t been her fault. It was never her fault.

“So, how are you?” Jess asked now, stifling a yawn as she sat on the couch. “How’s … John?”

As soon as the name was out, Jess winced. She thought his name was John. Might have been Jim.

“Oh,” Jamie said with a You are not going to believe this lean to the single word. “Yeah, he was married.”

Jess’s surprise was genuine. “Wait, really? How did you find out?”

“His wife called me.” Jamie tapped out a cigarette before remembering she couldn’t smoke in the apartment, and sort of toyed with it like that had been her intent all along. “Honestly I should have known. He had a job, good credit, and a prescription for Viagra. Of course he was married.”

Jess snorted out a laugh. “Are those the criteria these days?”

“Oh, honey. Don’t let the age of men with good circulation pass you by. Trust me.” She sat on the edge of the coffee table across from her daughter, resting a hand on Jess’s leg, and the whiff of genuine camaraderie made Jess’s heart lean forward. “How are you?” Jamie asked. “How’s your writer friend? She is so funny.”

“I’m fine. You know, working. And Fizzy,” Jess said with a small laugh. “Fizzy is always fine.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

Uninvited, River’s voice rammed into Jess’s mind.

And the timing couldn’t be better for launch.

“Definitely not dating.”

Jamie’s disappointment was palpable. “Are you just going to be single forever? I haven’t met a boyfriend of yours since Juno’s daddy. It’s your birthday. You should be out!”

“It’s a school night, and Juno is asleep down the hall.”

Jamie pointed like Jess might be catching on. “So she wouldn’t even know you were gone.”

Jess’s heart settled back into its familiar cramp, and she said with patient finality: “I don’t want to go out, Mom.”

Holding her hands up in defensive surrender, Jamie groaned out, “Fine, fine.”

Jess yawned again. “Listen, it’s l—”

“Did I tell you about my new gig?”

Her abruptly bright tone set off warning bells. “Your new what?”

“My new job.” Jamie sat up. “Okay … don’t say anything to your grandparents, because you know they’re old-fashioned and never understand how exciting these opportunities are, but you are looking at Skin Glow Incorporated’s newest team member.”

Jess searched her brain but no recognition flared. “Who are they?”

“You’re kidding.” Jamie shook her head in disbelief. “Their commercials are everywhere, Jess. They do in-home facials. God, I want to say it’s a good company, but it’s more than that, it’s a whole lifestyle. A way of empowering women. I get a cut of every facial I do and—”

Jess couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “A cut?”

“Well, yeah—I mean, to start. Eventually I’ll have girls working for me and I’ll make some of everything they make, and the people they bring on board.”

“So, like a pyramid scheme.”

“Like an entrepreneur.” Jamie’s words were sharp with offense. “I am capable of more than waiting tables, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, this is a really rare opportunity. Maureen said the lady who got her into it is already making six figures! And it’s only three hundred dollars to start.”

Of course. “You need money.”

“Just a loan.” Jamie waved a casual hand. “I’ll pay you back with my first paycheck.”

“Mom, no good job requires you to pay to get started.”

Jamie’s expression darkened. “Why do you always make me feel like this? Can’t I ever dig out of the hole with you?” She stood up and bent to grab her purse. “I’ve been clean for eighteen months!”

“It’s not about you— Wait.” Jess was on the verge of telling Jamie that she had her own money problems to worry about. Jamie sat back down on the couch, and the silence stretched between them. “Did you stop at Nana and Pops’s?” she asked instead. “They’re probably still up.”

Jamie half rolled her eyes, and Jess found herself wondering, again, when she’d become the parent and Jamie had become the child. “They don’t want to see me.”

“You know that’s not true. If you’ve got a new job and you’re clean, they’d love to see you. They love you, Mom.”

Jamie kept her eyes on the wall. “Well. They know where to find me.”

It was astonishing that someone like Jamie came from Joanne and Ronald Davis. At only three, Jess had been spending most nights over at Nana and Pops’s house. By the time she was six, Jamie had given up all pretense of trying, and Jess was permanently living with her grandparents. Jamie had been around, generally speaking, but she was never steady. Whereas Nana and Pops were involved in every aspect of Jess’s life from birth to this very moment, she learned early on that Jamie would pick drugs and men over family, every time.

As much as she tried not to repeat any of her mother’s patterns, Jess did take after her in one way: she’d gotten pregnant young. But hopefully that was where the similarities ended. Jess had graduated from college, gotten a job, and tried to save a little every time a check came. She took her kid to the dentist. She tried to put Juno first every day.

Jess tried to think what Jamie would do now if their positions were reversed. Would Jamie give me the money?

No. Jamie would tell her she needed to grow up, stop expecting handouts, and take responsibility for her own goddamned self.

Standing, Jess walked to the counter. She opened her phone’s bank app, wincing as she typed in $300 to transfer the money to Jamie’s account.

I am not my mother, she reminded herself. I am not my mother.