Page 133 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“I wasn’t an original investor.” The original ones were Tsai Ji Lai. Yossef Romani. Steve Davenport.

“Actually, you were the first investor.”

Lucas waits for me to get there, and it doesn’t take long. “That doesn’t count.”

“You brought me from zero to $1,578. That’s like an infinite increase.”

“Because you started at zero.” My mind is spinning, because for it to be a gift that had to be declared through lawyers, to be big enough Lucas would think I might have read about it in the news . . .

“Before the gift, I owned twenty percent of the company; now I’m at two percent.”

“I own more than you do.” It’s a statement. Apparently, a fact.

“You gave me over ninety percent of your net worth at the time. I thought I’d return the favor. Brody owns two percent free and clear as well, by the way.”

I swallow, because I’ve never actually looked it up, but 18 percent of Lucas’s company . . .

“I also finalized proceedings on our takeover of your father’s company.”

I blink.

“That part I’d started beforehand. His assets have dwindled over the years, too many bets that didn’t pay off, and it’s his own damned fault for not selling me the apartment complex when I asked. This way, you’re free of him. Completely.”

“I never told you about the job offer.”

“Yes, but your father, it turns out, has no respect for American NDAs. He filled in all the missing details.”

The only thing I can think to say is, “I don’t want to run your company.”

Lucas smiles, though it’s back to that faint twisting of his lips, the one that’s masking other emotions. “The stock is separate from my position. I plan on staying on as CEO unless and until you convince my board I’m incompetent.”

We’re silent together for a moment. Lucas, because he’s likely said most of what he meant to, and me, because my brain is whirring, processing.

“You sound . . . sad,” I say, finally.

“And angry.” Lucas looks up, his gaze meeting mine. “I don’t know whether I could have come up with a better plan six years ago. But you should have let me try.”

I open my mouth, but for once, it’s Lucas who stops me. He raises his hand to signal, No, I’m not done.

“I also don’t know what, exactly, is happening with your health. I was worried it was cancer, until I saw the rash—” Lucas pauses and glances over. Even with his shirtsleeves pushed up and without glasses, there’s something faintly professorial about him. “We’ve spent nearly every night together this past week, and you’re a deep sleeper. Even with the lights and the positions, it was only a matter of time, Lorelai.” He takes a deep breath. “The internet and my concierge doctor agree that it’s likely lupus or some other autoimmune disorder. But again, whatever it is, you should have told me, should have allowed us the chance to be in this together.” He’s still looking at his clasped hands, and his voice breaks slightly, but he continues. “I was young and stupid and it was after sex, but I meant what I said. Then and now. I love you. You’re it. My endgame. Gravity.”

I’m crying now, the tears flowing freely down my cheeks.

“But you’re going to have to decide whether that’s enough. Because none of this matters if you don’t let me in. My feelings are my own, independent of what you decide, just as the stock is yours, free and clear. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if you let me be your partner? If you let us build a life together?”

49

WHAT HE SAID

PRESENT

Iask Lucas for a week to sort out my feelings and my life.

For some reason, perhaps because I’m too busy feeling completely overwhelmed by what he’s done, it doesn’t initially occur to me that the rest of the world is finding out the news at about the same time I am.

Within the first hour, my inbox is already flooded. There are about as many messages from friends as there are from strangers (and strangers claiming to be friends), and a frightening number of local (and less local) reporters are also interested in the story.

There is an oddly ominous email from Abe, reminding me that though our preprint was accepted, he’s seen no progress on the project since then. He tells me he’s worried about my ability to complete a dissertation, given rumors he’s heard about a recent change in my situation.