Free The Cinderella Project (A Comedy of Love, #1) by Stan Crowe Page A

other warm as we made our way back to my car. I helped her in and we drove silently back to her house. I walked her to her door and we parted with a kiss. As I flopped onto my bed that morning, things were once again looking right with the world.

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    “So, Nick? Tell me about this girl. Ella?”
    “Yeah. Wow, Mom. How am I supposed to describe something so wonderful?”
    “You, ah, thinking of… marrying her?”
    “Oh yeah! Oh, Mom, you have no idea how great this girl is. And do you want to know what’s really cool?”
    “What’s that?”
    “She was… she was sent to me.”
    “Has your father been harassing you again to try a mail-order bride?”
    “Mom.…”
     
    The walk on the beach paid immediate dividends. Within a week after that lovely morning things with Ella were better than ever. We picked out our china, registered for wedding gifts and arranged for our engagement pictures. I wondered why I hadn’t spent more time with her over the summer. Then I remembered that I was actually trying to get to that little thing called “graduation” so I could go out into the world and be a real boy—one who could get a job that would support a wife and kids. That was easier said than done.
    I was still bothered by the fact Ella had dropped our wedding date to right on top of my preliminary dissertation defense. She had evaded my two attempts to get her reasons, but I still felt I was due an explanation. I’d wanted to do it before I’d driven home from the lake, but we were both exhausted; not the best circumstances for a serious meeting of the minds. Now, however, was as good a time as any. I would phone Ella as soon as I was done with my lab work and we’d head to one of our favorite “discussion” spots to talk it over. I arranged to meet at around 7:00 that night and she responded with enthusiasm. It was a date.
    Before that, I still had the rest of my day to face. With the start of this new week came a resumption of observing couples that were out there being couples. Field studies were meant to mitigate bias introduced by the milieu of clinical observation; people didn’t tend to act perfectly natural when I brought them into my lab and strapped them into my handy little torture device. In other words, I was trying not to kill Schrödinger’s Cat. The problem with these exercises was that the data was entirely anecdotal—inherently subjective. I wouldn’t use these observations as hard evidence, but anecdotal evidence could, in fact, provide insight into behavioral patterns. Provided I conducted enough observations over a broad enough range of scenarios, I argued that despite personal biases, certain trends could reasonably be established, which could then be measured up against the stricter empirical data provided by the tests made in The Chair. That was the party line, anyway. After all, it worked well enough for animals in the wild. Why not people in the wild? I wouldn’t admit that I needed the hope that came from watching others be happy in love.
    When I showed up at the lab to get Moiré, I found her once again poring over a hardcopy of my dissertation, scribbling in red ink. She didn’t see me come in and I stood quietly behind her, taking my own notes. Moiré was the picture of professionalism. I was unexpectedly flattered that she was paying so much attention to the written representation of such a significant part of my life. She was only doing what I had asked, but to see her doing it with such intensity and without knowing I was there, earned my respect.
    I like self-motivating people, I told myself. I’ll have to write her a shining recommendation when she’s done here.
    I hadn’t realized I was staring until one of the other doctoral students walked by me with a “Sup, Nick?” and a friendly smile. Moiré turned immediately and noticed me before I could look away. I felt my face flush.
    “Hey, Brad,” I said half-heartedly as he walked out of the lab with a