Page 32 of Omega's Tempting Fate
“You said the calendar bug is pretty intermittent, didn’t you?”
“Yeah?”
“And that it always seemed to crop up when you needed it the most, for the most demanding clients?”
“Yeah?” I blinked, unsure of what he was getting at.
“I think the problem is scope,” he said excitedly, as if he’d just solved a puzzle.
“Explain.”
He rubbed his chin. “Ok, so it’s not an exact comparison, but I think it makes the most sense. You know how you’re limited to so many characters on some social media sites?”
“Yeah?”
“I think a similar problem might be at work here. But instead of characters, it’s calendar entries the app allows.”
“Huh?”
“The app has to interface with the scheduling software, right, and communicate with it. The scheduling software doesn’t care, but what if somebody on my development team thought that a property might only need a handful of things in a day? They’d code for so many entries, add in a couple spares and call it good. But you need more than that, so it stops when the code says to.”
“Could it really be that simple?”
He nodded, and the excitement written across his face was so handsome. I wanted to kiss him and share his joy.
No Cody…
I took a deep breath to collect my wayward thoughts. “I still don’t get it though. Why do it that way?”
“Software—code—takes up memory, like any other file. So good programmers try to keep the filesize as low as possible. Depending on how they wrote it, they may have thought that a set number of fields was the way to go.”
He settled and grinned at me. “For as smart as they are, computers are as dumb as the programmer who writes the code. The app just can’t make room for more entries if I’m right, because it wasn’t written like that. But, and here’s the good part, it can be rewritten like that. They could either write in more fields, or allow it to grow automatically.”
I thought about it, then nodded. “I think I get it.”
Wes’s smile widened, and it made me want to see it more often. “I think you might have given us the solution to the bug you reported.”
“But…” I started.
He shook his head. “It would have taken me a lot longer to make that connection.”
“Ok,” I said softly, unable to help smiling.
He reached across the table, stopping halfway, and I could see hope in his eyes.
I wanted to touch him too; feel the warmth of his hand against mine. But I couldn’t. Instead I folded my hands in my lap until the food arrived.
His smile faltered, then faded entirely as he withdrew his hand. It broke me to see, but this was for the best.
I was only protecting us both.
We were silent as we ate, the euphoria of the moment gone. But what was worse was the way Wes excused himself for the day once we reached the office.
I wanted his touch and his smiles, but I knew I couldn’t have him, even if we were fated.
So why did it hurt so much when he finally seemed to give me the space I wanted?
