“You’re doing so much for us,” she continued, “we’ve got to do something for you. I don’t know what. But we’ll think of something. Something huge, I swear.”

“I don’t need you to do anything, Kelsey.”

“That’s the whole point,” she said, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. “We want to do something because we don’t have to. You’re awesome, Evan Collins.”

She hung up before he could set her straight. Before he could tell her he’d done only what he’d needed to, what any person with a soul would have done.

Before he could remind her that helping out her mom didn’t mean he was ready to accept Theresa as his mom again.

* * *

So, really, how was she supposed to fight for Evan?

Paige finished the notes from her last session, then quickly checked her email while her mind mulled over what to do about Evan.

She was determined to fight for him. But how?

Evan had wanted her last night. His kiss, his touch, and the fire in his eyes had confirmed what her body knew. But she couldn’t use his desire to bring him closer. Couldn’t use it against him. That was Whitney’s modus operandi—ensnaring men. As far as Paige was aware, Whitney had never cheated, but she still loved to gather men around her.

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In any case, Whitney aside, Paige didn’t want to fall into bed with Evan only to have him deny his feelings in the morning.

Because what Paige felt for him was so much deeper. On some level, she had to believe he knew it too. Their souls seemed to speak their own special language. She’d felt it all those evenings they’d talked for hours in his library about books, movies, politics, her work, his work. The connection had existed between them even in college, all the nights they discussed classes and students, science or high finance; daydreaming about how they would shape their futures; talking about their goals, what they wanted to accomplish and how; or even something as simple as what the best classic sci-fi movie was. They’d both chosen The Day the Earth Stood Still, with Forbidden Planet a close second. If she was going to fight for him, she had to do it by showing him how much more they had between them than desire.

Her eyes skimmed the headlines online and flitted over a sidebar without really seeing it.

She wanted to do something special, something that would help Evan see they were meant to be together, no matter how many obstacles stood in their way. But what could possibly convince him? What, what, what?

Suddenly, her gaze was snagged by a brief mention containing the words science, fiction, and Mars. Oh my God. It was the absolute best thing imaginable. It wasn’t obviously romantic. It wasn’t flashy and sexy. But it was so absolutely them. Grabbing her phone, she tapped in a quick text.

Andy Weir is speaking tonight at a bookstore down the street from your office. Do you want to go see him with me?

They’d both loved The Martian. They’d read it at the same time, marveled over it, dissected every chapter. And seeing the advertisement right on the heels of her thoughts about their favorite classic sci-fi movies had to have meaning. Evan answered almost immediately.

Sounds good. Mortimer can pick you up from your office and then we can come home from the city together.

Come home. Yes. The words were sublime, all she could ever have asked for. They made the rest of their arrangements through a few quick texts.

Mortimer picked her up for the ride to San Francisco, but the traffic was horrendous getting into the city despite it being a weeknight. She dashed into the bookstore with no time to spare as the emcee for the evening tested the microphone. It was standing room only, but Evan had saved her a seat, and she squeezed past an elderly couple to slip into the chair beside him.

“You’re here.” He reached out to squeeze her hand, and she wanted to hang on forever. He was scrumptious in his dashing dark gray suit and white shirt, his tie a shade of topaz and green that somehow emphasized the flecks of gold in his eyes. She wanted to eat him all up right then. But she’d promised herself this night wouldn’t be about sex. Or desire. Or need. Or all the physical things she desperately wanted from him.

Before they could exchange another word, the bookstore owner introduced the author to a round of deafening applause. Andy Weir was an incredibly interesting guy. And his publishing story was amazing. When he talked about selling his AOL stock options at the absolute high after he was laid off, Evan gave her a thumbs-up and whispered, “This is my kinda guy.” She loved that he could share this with her.

The talk was fascinating, even as Andy got technical. And yet, like his book, he presented the material in layman’s terms she could easily understand. He was extremely self-deprecating, and when asked how he came up with the idea for The Martian, he said he was a geek who liked to sit around daydreaming about how it would be possible to accomplish this thing or that.

She nudged Evan and murmured, “Just like you.”

And yet it was more. It was like all those nights in college discussing their plans for the future. Daydreaming. Evan had made all his dreams come true.

Except the one about a family and a loving wife.

The emcee opened the meeting up for questions, and the audience went wild with hands in the air. One man wanted to know why the main character in The Martian hadn’t taken his situation more seriously, that he was actually a little flip, even sarcastic. And Andy said that he hadn’t wanted to write a deep, dark character study, that it was more about figuring out how to solve a really big problem.




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