Page 63 of Debugging Love

I do a weak fist bump. “Overtime. Woo hoo.”

Chance’s eyes are on me. His eyes that can’t help but brood. He lowers his chin and rubs his thumb over his bottom lip. I can probably handle five hours in a car with him. I mean, he did bust his elbow to save me from a ginormous and very venomous spider. And Drew might be tolerable if he’s asleep.

“Take lots of notes at the conference because you’ll be reporting on what you learned. Between the four of you, you should be able to hit most of the sessions. When you get back, you’ll each give an overview of what you learned.”

“This is starting to sound like a book report,” I say.

“Sorta,” Christopher says. “I sold it to corporate as a skill-building expense that will drive innovation within our department. So…” He flips his palms toward the ceiling. “You’re welcome.”

“How long does this presentation need to be?” I ask.

“Four hours.”

Morgan nearly chokes. “What?”

“An hour each. Slide decks required, which I will forward to the CIO as evidence of your attendance.”

Morgan slouches in her chair.

“I hear Atlanta is nice this time of year,” Christopher says.

“It’s blazing hot,” Morgan counters.

“And your hotel has a pool. Any questions? Danni, you still don’t look excited.”

“Oh, I’m…swell.”

Chance is looking at me again. Not just looking. Studying. Drew is still marching in place and checking his smartwatch every five seconds.

“Whatare you doing, Drew?” Christopher asks.

“I am trying to get fifteen thousand steps in, which means I have to walk when I am not walking. Segue: I want an ergonomic assessment for a standing desk. My chiropractor says I have an impingement in my hip that is causing radiating pain through my pelvis if I sit for more than five minutes in these so-called ergonomic chairs. I have already taken four ibuprofen this morning.”

“Sure,” Christopher says. “I’ll set that up.”

“If my stomach bleeds, I am suing JetAero.”

“Have you tried Tylenol?”

“You obviously have not read the scientific literature. Tylenol is not an anti-inflammatory and it pollutes the liver.”

“Sorry, I haven’t read the scientific data.”

Drew throws up his hands. “I am done here.” He marches out the door, checking his watch along the way.

The road trip hasn’t even started and I’m already feeling claustrophobic.

Chance

Danni and I reach Wild Oaks at the same time, follow each other to the back of the complex and pull into our usual spots. We really should carpool to work, but I doubt Danni would be up for it. I push my car door open with my foot and try to exit without exacerbating the pain in my knee, wincing as I stand. Danni is waiting for me behind her car.

“No groceries today?” she asks. Her eyes travel to my busted elbow and then back to my face.

“Nope.” I don’t tell her that I plan on doing absolutely nothing in front of the TV tonight, because then I might have to tell her that moving hurts. Her guilty expression doesn’t need any more help. “My root cellar is already stocked. Is that what you called it?”

“Did I? Probably. I’m dumb.”

“No, you aren’t.”

---