Page 77 of Ruining His Smirk

“I can’t wait. Do you know how old it is yet?”

I shook my head. “I’m waiting for the results of carbon dating. It takes a few weeks. We sent the sample in January so I should be getting the results any day now.”

“What about the museum? Which city will it end up in?”

“They are working on figuring all that out. I’m just the scientist.”

“Whose name will be immortalized.” Keith bumped my shoulder. “Imagine thousands of people over the next decades visiting the museum and seeing the skeleton hang from the ceiling and then finding your name beside it as the one who found it.”

“Not just mine.”

“Oh right. Your boy too. You’ve essentially science married him.”

“Sod off.” I blushed.

“Speak of the devil… there he is.” Keith raised a hand.

My heart stumbled.

A lone figure stood well away from all the movement, away from the dock and ship, away from everyone. His face was obscured by the heavy fur-lined hood and the falling flurries, but I knew the breadth of those shoulders. I knew the way he planted his feet wide with that confidence as though neither wind nor ice nor the shifting earth beneath him had any authority over where he stood.

He was facing our ship.

Facing me.

I watched as our ship drew closer, the distance between us narrowing so slowly it felt almost cruel. Around me, the deck came alive. Crew members began moving into position for docking, checking lines, preparing equipment. Onshore, people lifted their arms and waved. Men and women around me waved back.

My own hand felt too heavy to raise.

Garrett did not wave either.

It had been two months since I had last seen him. The reality of our work had made the separation unavoidable. Once the recovery project was complete, we had traveled to Waypoint. Garrett had returned to the station and the skeleton was stowed in a safe location behind the station until we knew how to get it out of Antarctica. The solution had been the custom-designed barge. It was built and assembled in the States and towed to us by the ship that was currently being loaded.

After dropping Garrett and the skeleton off, our ship had left. I went back to following Lady and Junior across the ocean, recording the extraordinary journey of watching the calf grow beside his mother. During the day, there was work—the endless accumulation of photographs, movement records, vocalizations, feeding behavior, and observations that made every hour feel valuable.

At night, alone in my cabin I missed Garrett with a force I had never anticipated.

I had believed I understood what it meant to miss something.

When my family left London, I missed it fiercely during those first months in the States. I missed my favorite pastries, my friends, the streets I knew, even the damned rain. Later, when I left home, I missed my parents, especially mum’s hugs and seeing her face every morning. Every time I left Antarctica, I missed the continent itself. I missed the ice. I missed the immense silence. I missed Lady. And I’d thought I knew what to do with this feeling.

I was so very wrong.

These past weeks had taught me that missing the person you are in love with is an entirely different experience.

So many nights, sitting on my bed, I cried like a little boy. I didn’t even tell Keith. I told nobody about it because, truth be told, not many people would understand the intensity of my emotions. After all, we had just met.

But my heart knew. My heart had always known what it loved. The first time I readMoby-Dickas a boy and realized how much I hated Ahab and sided with the whale, I knew that I was going to become a whale researcher.

I was head over heels in love with him. When Garrett told me that he had found a home in me, he was talking for both of us.

Some days, I would ache so much for his touch that it felt like a physical pain in my chest.

“Hey.”

Keith’s voice came from my side.

“You okay? Nate? Why are you crying? Tell me those are happy tears.”