The Soulmate Equation

CONSUMED BY A strange disorientation, Jess climbed from her car outside the GeneticAlly building. It was after seven, and the parking lot was empty, but the stillness was somehow more unsettling. Her hands seemed to float ten feet away from her body; it felt like she was gliding more than walking. This physical dissociation wasn’t new to her. She’d felt it on and off her entire childhood, and therapy had revealed that it happened when she was avoiding thinking about what it all meant. But every time she thought about the prospect that the DNADuo really was right and that she and River might actually be good together, a wall went up inside her and the entire mental monologue just went dark.

And now that she was here, Jess had no idea whether she’d made the right decision by telling David that she would come to the office to meet with them. Their lawyer would be present. They would sign a contract… after that, Jess had no clue.

She expected to be met by the receptionist or maybe Lisa. But this time, waiting for her near the untouched couches was River.

Her breath caught in her throat. Hidden in the shadows, he looked skyscraper tall and angular. The thought of relishing touching him… it made her feel light-headed.

He pulled his hand from a pocket and lifted it in a careful wave. “Hey.” His hand hesitated, unsure, rising up to scratch the back of his neck. “I didn’t know whether you’d actually show up.”

“That makes two of us.”

What’s in it for you? she wanted to ask. Is this about glory, or money, or something else? He certainly wasn’t here for the pursuit of love.

With a little sideward tilt of his head, he led her back through the double doors, down the hall, to the elevator, where he depressed the Up button with that long index finger.

“How was your day?”

Jess bit her bottom lip, swallowing an incredulous smile. He was trying. “Um, it was fine, how was yours?”

“Pretty good.”

“Do you always work this late?”

“Pretty much.”

The doors opened; they stepped in and were swallowed into the tiny vessel together.

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked.

She wasn’t fast enough this time, and the surprised laugh escaped. “Yes. Thousands. How nice of you to ask.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling down at his shoes, “I guess I deserve that.”

“The only one I think I really need to know before we go into the conference room is: Is it true you’re not currently in a relationship with anyone?”

River shook his head. “I would never do this if I were.”

“Okay, good,” she said, and quickly added when his brows slowly rose: “Me either.”

“I do have one question,” he said as they reached the second floor. The doors opened, and they stepped out into the hall, but then stopped and faced each other still out of hearing range of the conference room. “Why did you take the test in the first place? You don’t seem to be all that excited about the prospect of any match, let alone a Diamond.”

“That,” Jess said, grinning and pointing at him, “is the question of the day.” Her smile faded, hand dropped, and she realized she wasn’t going to get out of this with deflection or humor. His was a good question. She’d genuinely felt a desire to start making her own life bigger in the moment, so why was she here now, feeling resistant to the entire process?

Immediately Jess knew: the idea of finding The One—it was just too much.

“I’d had a really bad day,” she said quietly. “That day I ran into you downtown. You took my parking spot. You didn’t hold the elevator. I lost a big account, had to sit in a room full of smug married couples, went home, and just felt pathetic. I spit into the vial and sent it, but I shouldn’t have.”

She watched the reaction to this pass across his features.

“We all feel worst at night,” she said. “I should have waited until the morning.”

He nodded once. “Okay.”

And then he turned and continued down the hallway.

That was it? Seriously? He asked the Hard Question and she answered honestly and he nodded and moved on?

What was he even thinking? This man was a vault.

River waited at the threshold to the room for her, and gestured for her to step in ahead of him. She’d expected a roomful of people to witness the ceremonial contract signing between two Diamond Matches who, at best, tolerated each other. But instead, there were only two people inside: David and a man Jess didn’t know, but who looked so much like Don Cheadle that she felt an excited smile burst across her face before she realized he was just a very close doppelgänger.

David clocked her reaction, and laughed. “I know. It’s uncanny.”

“I’m Omar Gamble,” Don Cheadle said. “I’m the head legal counsel for GeneticAlly. It’s nice to meet you, Jessica.”

“Just Jess.” She reached out, shaking his hand.

What were they thinking of her right now? Desperate? Stupid? Opportunistic? Honestly, though, for that much money, did she even care what they thought?

There wasn’t much more to be said, so they all shuffled to their chairs. Omar opened a folder and pulled out a small stack of papers. “We know you haven’t brought legal counsel, but wanted to give you some time to look this over.”

“Would you like River and me to leave the room?” David asked.

River began to stand, which irked her. At least let her decide.

Obstinately, she said, “No. Stay, if you don’t mind.”

Slowly, River settled back into his seat.

Honestly, this situation was a first. She and River sat beside each other on one side, facing David and Omar, and she’d just asked them to stay and essentially watch her read five dense pages of legalese. As carefully as she could under the press of their conspicuous attention, she read through the contract.

WHEREAS Individual A (JESSICA DAVIS) has indicated to GENETICALLY LLC and Individual B (RIVER PEÑA) a willingness to engage…

… Individual A further agrees to limit disclosure of Confidential Information…

… at least three (3) interactions per calendar week including but not limited to outings, phone calls…

… publicity appearances and/or interviews not to exceed two (2) per calendar week…

… explicitly state that no physical contact is contractually obligated on the part of Individual A or Individual B throughout the…

… will be compensated in the amount of ten thousand dollars ($10,000 USD) per month for the duration of the contract, beginning on the 10th day of February…

… IN WITNESS WHEREOF, Individual A and Individual B have executed this agreement himself or herself or have caused this Agreement to be executed by his or her appointed representative as of the signature date below.

Jess leaned back, exhaling slowly. This was… a lot to take in.

“Take your time,” Omar said with a smile that filled his eyes. “It’s a strange situation, we get it.”

She looked at River. “Have you read it?”

He nodded.

“Did you have any objections?”

He stared at her, blinked. Finally, “My concerns were addressed before you arrived.”

“And they were?”

“I requested item fifteen.”

Jess looked down, flipping to the second page.… no physical contact is obligated on the part of Individual A or Individual B throughout the duration of the Agreement, and any such contact is at the sole discretion of the parties listed herein. GeneticAlly LLC, and its agents, assigns, officers, and Board of Directors, are hereby indemnified against any claim of action or resulting damages arising from any such contact.

Her feminist brain was giving River a standing ovation for ensuring that she didn’t feel pressured into anything physical. But the insecure beast inside was louder. River wanted it in black and white that they didn’t have to touch each other? Ladies and gentlemen: her soulmate.

Humor came to her defense. “Got it: I’m not being paid to pet the beast.”

Omar nodded, stifling a smile. “Correct.”

“Additionally, if I find myself unable to keep my libido in check,” she said, “and River surprises us all and realizes that blood and not silt runs through those veins, and I get knocked up, it’s not on you guys.”

River coughed sharply, and Omar smothered this smile with a fist. “Correct.”

She saccharine-smiled at River. “Not to worry. Great addition, Americano.”

“It felt like a necessary clarification,” he said stiffly.

Looking back to Omar, Jess said, “One thing I don’t see here—and it’s good, I guess—but I’d like it explicitly stated that I don’t want my daughter involved contractually in any way. I don’t want her to be photographed or included in any of these outings or interviews.”

“I agree,” River said immediately. “No kids.”

It was the tone, like nails on a chalkboard, that got her back up. “Are you just not a fan of humans of any size, or…?”

He gave her a bemused smile. “Do you want me to back you up here or not?”

She turned back to Omar. “Can you add it?”

He made a note on his copy of the printout. “I can make that change on our part,” he said with careful precision, “but we’ll have no control over what the press writes if a reporter finds out that you have a daughter. All we can assure is that GeneticAlly will not discuss her existence with the press or any of our investors or affiliates.”

“I’ll handle my side, keeping her out of the spotlight, I just don’t want you to assume that you can use her as a prop, too.”

Omar looked briefly across the table at the man seated beside her. Jess saw Omar’s expression falter for just a moment as the two men shared some silent communication. It was long enough for Jess to register that she’d said something sort of shitty. They were close to the finish line of something they’d believed in for years.

Jess wanted to rephrase what she’d said, but the moment moved on; Omar rolled forward. “I’ll get this change made and the contract couriered over to you ASAP.”

“Great, thanks for—”

“Actually,” River cut in, and then hesitated, waiting for her to look at him. When their eyes met, her rib cage constricted, her blood felt too thick in her veins. “I’d like to confirm,” he said haltingly, adding after a long beat of her confusion: “The test results.”

Was he serious? He wanted to confirm now? When they had a contract in front of them and Jess was about to sign on to be his fake girlfriend for the next three months? “Are we—I mean, I assumed you would have done that already.”

“We did confirm with your saliva sample,” he rushed to clarify. “But I’d like to take a quick blood sample and run the lysate through the screen. Alongside mine.”

Her cheeks decided to go all warm at the suggestion that their blood rest in side-by-side tubes in a centrifuge. “Sure. Whatever.”

His eyes refocused on hers, and Jess realized River had just clocked her blush. “Sure,” he said with a small smile. “Whatever. Follow me.”

HE’D ALREADY GATHERED everything they’d need on a tray near two chairs. A rack with sterile vials. A tourniquet, needle, alcohol pads, cotton gauze, and tape. While they waited for the phlebotomist to arrive, River washed his hands extensively at the sink, dried them on a stack of fresh lab towels… and then pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves.

“You’re going to do it?” Jess asked, awareness dropping like a hammer.

He froze just after the second glove snapped into place. “There’s no one left in the building tonight who can take blood. Is that okay?”

“Um… what?”

He let out a short laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t say that right. I’m certified to do it. I’m not just filling in because no one else is here.”

Jess wanted to keep emotional distance, wanted to keep this professional. But she couldn’t help her playful tone: “You’re telling me you’re a geneticist, a CSO, and a phlebotomist?”

A small smile appeared and disappeared. “In the early days,” he said, “when we were testing whole blood lysate, we recruited a huge cohort of subjects from local universities. It was all hands on deck.” He blinked up to her face, then back down to her arm. “I got certified.”

“Handy. Can you garden and cook, too?”

Was that a blush? He ignored her question, probably assuming it was rhetorical, and safely returned them to science. “I’m not in the lab much anymore. I used to go through every data file that would come out of there,” he said, pointing to one of two boxy pieces of high-tech equipment on the far side of the lab. “Now everything is so streamlined, I’m never needed here.”

“Let me guess,” Jess said, “you’re the meetings guy.”

He smiled, nodding. “Endless investor meetings.”

“Send the hot scientist in, right?” she said, and immediately wanted to swallow her fist.

He laughed down at his tray of supplies, motioned for her to sit, and holy crap, it was suddenly seven hundred degrees in the lab.

“Could you—?” River gestured for her to roll up her left sleeve.

“Right. Sorry.” Awkwardly, she pushed it up and over her biceps. Very gently, but with absolute calm, River cupped a hand beneath her elbow, shifting her arm forward, and ran his thumb over the crease, looking clinically at the landscape of her veins. Much less clinically, Jess—covered in goose bumps from his hand on her inner elbow—stared at his eyes. They were, frankly, absurd.

She found herself leaning forward, slightly fascinated, and wishing he would look up again. “You have really pretty eyes,” she said, and sucked in a breath. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She cleared her throat. “Sorry. I bet you get that a lot.”

He hummed.

“And why do guys always get the thick lashes?” she asked. “They literally don’t care about them.”

The corner of his mouth pinched in with the suggestion of another smile. “A painful truth.” Satisfied with the vein situation, he reached for the tourniquet, tying the band around her upper arm. “I’m going to let you in on a secret, though,” he said conspiratorially, flicking his eyes up to hers and then back down. “I’d honestly rather be punched in the jaw than get one of those fuckers in my eye.”

An unexpected laugh burst free of her throat. River’s gaze returned to hers, lingering now, and her insides rolled over. He was so good-looking it made her mad.

Some of this must have shown in her expression, because his answering smile faded and he returned his attention to her arm, tearing open two alcohol prep pads and carefully swabbing.

His voice was a gentle rumble: “Make a fist.”

Is this a horrible idea?

He reached for the needle, uncapping it with a practiced tug of thumb and forefinger. Yes, this was a horrible idea.

Jess needed a distraction.

“What’s the story?” she asked.

“The story?” Focused, River leaned closer, and inserted the needle so deftly that she barely felt the pinch.

“Your story.” She cleared her throat, looking away from the needle in her arm. “The origin story.”

He straightened as the first vial filled. “About this?”

“Yeah.”

“Lisa didn’t go over the early studies in the presentation?” His frown down at her arm felt like professional concern, the beginning of a chastisement he’d deliver to Lisa later.

“She did. About your study on attraction,” Jess said quickly, and definitely didn’t watch his throat move as he swallowed. “And, um, long-term marital happiness. But I’m more curious about how you got there, what gave you the idea in the first place.”

He detached the first vial and screwed on the cap with a practiced press of a thumb, simultaneously securing the new vial in place with his left hand. These displays of dexterity were very sexually distracting.

“You mean, how an asshole like me started studying love in the first place?”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to make me feel bad, but let me remind you: This is the room where you told your friend that I was ‘average.’ ”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I didn’t expect you to hear that.”

“Oh. In that case, it’s not insulting at all.”

“You…” He drew his eyes up, over her chest, her neck, briefly to her face, and back down to her arm. “You’re a perfect test subject. From a scientific standpoint, average isn’t an insult. You’re exactly what we look for.” She wasn’t sure, but in the dim light, the tips of his ears seemed to redden. He switched out the second vial and easily fastened a third, releasing the tourniquet. “Anyway, that morning was busy.” He smiled to himself before adding, “And I was probably turned off by your attitude.”

“Oh my God.”

River laughed quietly. “Come on. I’m teasing. It’s obvious neither of us liked the other at first.”

“You didn’t like when I stopped you at Twiggs.”

“It startled me,” he said, not meeting her eyes. He cleared his throat. “I get deep in my head sometimes. You may have noticed that I can be a bit…” He unleashed the smile again, but only briefly. There and then gone. “Intense.”

“I’ve spotted the trait once or twice.”

Deftly, he unscrewed the last vial. “So: origin story. While I was in graduate school, there was a woman in David’s lab named Rhea.”

A woman, Jess thought. Of course.

“We were rivals, in a way.”

The way he added the last three words to the sentence clearly communicated Rivals who also fucked.

River pulled the needle out and immediately covered the puncture site with a square of gauze. He held it there firmly with his thumb, the rest of his hand lightly curled around her arm. “One night, at a party at someone’s house,” he said, “we started talking about the Human Genome Project from the nineties.”

“As you do at a party.”

He laughed, and the full, genuine sound delivered an erotic shock like a spanking. “Yes. As you do. We were talking about the implications of knowing every gene, the way that information could be manipulated. Could you, for example, screen people for certain jobs based on their genetic profile?”

“How very Brave New World.”

“Right?” He checked beneath the gauze to see if she was bleeding and, satisfied, reached for a fresh square, fastening it to her arm with some medical tape. “Anyway, I guess the drinks flowed and eventually I brought up whether it was possible to identify sexual attraction through DNA. Rhea laughed and said it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.”

Jess stared at him, waiting for the rest of it, and the heated effect of his laugh slowly faded. “That’s it?”

“I mean, that’s not it it,” he said, grinning shyly. “It turned into a real scientific undertaking, but if you’re wondering whether the project was sparked in a moment when a woman mocked me, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. But it isn’t supervillain levels of insecurity or vanity; it was a genuine curiosity at first. Like a bet. Why did she think it would be possible to profile someone for an engineering job versus a graphic design position, but not for relationships? Aren’t both ultimately about suitedness and gratification?”

He had a point.

His face tipped down, he laughed quietly as he checked the labels. “Anyway, Rhea wasn’t the last person to mock the idea.”

“What does that mean?”

“Imagine being a fairly well-respected young geneticist and word gets out that you’re planning to use your expertise to find who’ll fall in love with whom.”

“People were dicks about it?”

He tilted his head side to side, a yes-no. “Scientists are often pretty critical of other scientists and what we choose to do with our time and knowledge.”

“Sounds like the literary world and Fizzy.”

His brows went up. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“You wouldn’t believe the things people say to her about writing romance. Calling her books ‘trashy’ and ‘guilty,’ like they’re something to be ashamed of. Even in interviews. She’s been asked what her father thinks of her writing sex scenes.”

“Yeah, I get that. Early on nearly everyone who knew me asked, ‘Are you that desperate to find a girlfriend?’ They obviously didn’t know that in 2018, fifteen percent of Americans were using dating sites, and that same fifteen percent spent almost three billion dollars a year on them. Imagine that number going from fifteen percent to forty-two point five percent—”

“The current percentage of unmarried people over the age of eighteen.”

Their eyes met and held as they shared this deeply—and surprisingly sensual—data-wonk moment.

“Well.” She blinked away and back again. “I’m sure you’re getting the last laugh, and I think it’s cool.” He stared at her in disbelief. “I really do. I just…” Jess winced and the obvious question hung between them, a swinging sign in the wind. “Does it annoy you that I don’t believe our score?”

“Not really. I admire your natural skepticism.” He gave her a little self-indulgent grin. “And we have enough data that I feel fairly confident we know what we’re doing here. You’ll just have to decide what to think if this test comes back with the same score.”

“What are you expecting?”

“I’ll believe the test if it says we are biologically compatible, but I’m not a scientific zealot, Jess. I recognize the element of choice.” He pulled his gloves off and dropped them on the tray. “No one is going to force you to fall in love with me.”

With his face tilted down, Jess was able to stare at him outright. Smooth olive skin, the shadow of stubble, full lips. Jess wasn’t sure, but she’d guess midthirties. She put the mental filter of time over his face, imagining him with salt and pepper at his temples, the small lines of laughter in the corners of his eyes.

She shifted a little on the stool, hit with an unfamiliar ache.

“When you saw the first compatibility score over ninety, what was your immediate reaction?”

He stood and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. “Dread.”

This was… not the answer she was expecting. Jess followed him with her eyes as he moved with the rack of vials over to the hood. “Dread? Seriously?”

“Over ninety is where we enter the range of scores that could completely throw off our curve.” He set the rack inside and then peeled off his gloves, turning to face her. “We’d already seen great compatibility with scores up to ninety. The scores coming off the behavioral and mood assessments tracked. It was all linear. We didn’t know what to expect. Could it stay linear? How would that look emotionally? A sigmoidal curve made the most sense—the emotional satisfaction scores might flatten out at some point over eighty and reach an asymptote. But to imagine that at higher biological compatibility we might see lower emotional compatibility—that’s what scared me. We really don’t want to be bell-shaped, but we just don’t have a lot of data either way.”

He seemed to hear his own rambling and stopped abruptly, blushing.

Self-conscious River was too much to handle. Jess shoved fondness away. “You are deeply nerdy.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, laughing self-deprecatingly, “if actual emotional compatibility tanked at higher DNADuo numbers, it would narrow our range of possible matches, and make it harder to argue that we’d been binning them the right way.”

“But that isn’t what happened,” Jess said. “Right? They’re all together and happy.”

“The ones we know of, yeah. But like I said, there’s only a handful at the top of the scale.”

He sat down at the fume hood, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, spraying them with alcohol, and pulling on a second pair over the first.

He wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Even Jess knew enough to know he could do this sample prep out on the lab bench, but she wasn’t surprised he was using sterile technique. Still, the anxiety building in her stomach had reached a boiling point: she would need to find a way to explain it if the results came back ninety-eight again.

Even if it was starting to feel like River Peña might not be the worst man alive.

Jess lifted her chin to the two identical hulking machines on the other side of the room. “Are those the DNADuos?”

He followed her attention briefly and nodded. “Creatively named DNADuo One and DNADuo Two.” She could hear his smile. “DNADuo Two is down right now. Getting serviced next week. It’ll be up and running by May, I hope. You’re welcome to stay and hang out,” he added, “but the assay takes eight hours, so the data won’t be analyzed until tomorrow morning.”

“A wild Friday night for you?” she joked.

But with his back to her, she couldn’t tell if he even cracked a smile. His posture took the shape of renewed focus. “I’m usually here anyway.”

“Spoken like a true dream boyfriend.”

He scoffed—appreciating her joke just about as much as she expected him to. Jess realized she was being politely dismissed. Standing, she pushed her sleeve back down. “Think I’ll head home to Juno.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said without turning around. “I’ll call either way.”