He didn’t respond, didn’t look at her. Instead, he lowered his head and carefully pulled his hand free from hers. River’s silence pressed down all around her, heavy and choking.

“Right?” she pressed.

He looked up. “Of course, yes. I’m just a mess this morning.”

She didn’t feel at all comforted. “What will happen to them?”

“The board will meet, and we’ll have some really difficult conversations. What they did was unethical at best and illegal at worst. They’ll likely be replaced, and all the data from the past six months—about fourteen thousand samples—will have to be rerun.” He paled, staring down the enormity of it.

A question bloomed, pushing itself out of her mouth. “Did you run our samples?”

“No,” he said immediately. Flatly. “I took my profile offline.”

Jess couldn’t decide whether that was a relief or a gut punch. They didn’t have a score of their own, and now they never would. It was hard for her to imagine that River wouldn’t need to know his compatibility score with his girlfriend.

Unless…

“Oh.” She stared down at their shoes—his polished, hers scuffed. They were only a couple of feet apart, but it felt like he was standing a mile away. “I guess that’s that.”

His restless energy bled into her heartache and made her feel restless, too.

“Go,” she said, finally. “It’s a lot to digest.”

River exhaled slowly, turning his gaze up to her face. “It is.”

He searched her eyes for a long beat before bending to deliver a quick peck on her cheek. After jogging back inside to pick up his Americano, he didn’t stop at their table again on the way out the door.

TWENTY-FOUR

STANDING IN VONS the next evening, Jess looked up from her grocery list and realized Juno was still staring at the half mile of cereal options. “Junebug, can you pick one? We still have to drive home, unload this, and get you bathed and into bed.” Jess glanced at her watch, dreading the amount of work she still had to do when she got home. With her nights suddenly River-free, she should have been all caught up, with plenty of time to spare. And yet. Her focus had been terrible, and when she wasn’t busy being sad and staring off into space, she was helping Juno with homework or, like earlier tonight, going to the physical rehabilitation center with Nana and Pops.

Juno gazed up at the colorful boxes, eyes narrowed as she considered. When a seven-year-old is told for the first time in their life that they can pick whatever cereal they want, it’s a big decision. “Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Cinnamon Toast Crunch looks good but Trix is fruity.” She reached for the box. “I’ll get Trix.”

“You know it’s not real fruit, right?”

Her daughter: ever confident. “Yes, it is. Look, it says ‘natural fruit flavors.’ ”

Jess saved the lesson on tricky advertising for a better mood and tossed the box into the cart.