Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Deacon grabbed his flute and took a drink, but it was obvious he didn’t like it because he barely took a sip. He drank his water most of the time, like the bubbly stuff wasn’t his thing at all. Probably too sweet. The wine he’d been drinking the other night was dry, and the beer he asked me to get was always strong.
The lights dimmed. “That’s my cue.” Doug rose from his seat and patted Deacon on the back as he headed to the stage.
Deacon kept a straight face for everyone at the table, but his hand tightened into a fist under the table on his lap.
I was the only one who could see it.
Doug started to speak into the microphone. “I’m about to introduce a man who needs no introduction, an extraordinary humanitarian and clinical researcher who’s changed the lives of everyone around the world. His unparalleled success is even more impressive because of his age, being one of the youngest recipients of the Nobel Prize…” He kept listing off all of his accomplishments, his tenures at Stanford and Harvard.
My hand moved to Deacon’s on his thigh.
He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t embrace me either.
“Don’t be nervous.”
He kept his eyes on the stage, listening to Doug go on and on. “I’m not nervous. I just hate this shit.” He kept his voice low, so only I could hear. “Awards are pointless validation. Validation for my work happens the second my research is published. This…is fucking stupid.”
I kept my hand on his, my fingers feeling his warmth. “Think about it this way…”
He turned his head toward me, his brown eyes locking on mine.
“One day, Derek is going to want to know everything about his father. He’s going to see your list of accomplishments, all your speeches on YouTube, everything you’ve ever done. This validation doesn’t mean anything to you, but someday, Derek is going to see all this and be so proud of you.”
His eyes dropped slightly, as if that actually touched him.
I pulled my hand away.
“You’ve done a great job tonight.” His eyes flicked back to mine. “I don’t know how you do it.”
I gave him an encouraging smile, seeing the way his dark eyes reflected the light from the crystal chandeliers up above. He’d shaved that morning and now his jaw was clean, showing the prominence of his jawbone, the masculine details of his face. “This is what I’m good at. And you’re good at something I’ll never be good at.”
Doug finished his speech, and the spotlight moved to Deacon.
But he stared at me for a few more seconds, as if this conversation was a lot more interesting than what he was about to do. Applause surrounded us, a cacophony that erupted on all sides.
I gave his arm a gentle squeeze then started to clap.
His expression didn’t change, but he got up, buttoned his jacket, and walked to the stage. He towered over the tables with his height, his muscular build, and he looked like a movie star about to accept an award.
He got to the stage, shook hands with Doug, and then gripped both sides of the podium. He listened to the crowd continue to applaud, his eyes scanning the faces looking up at him before he spoke into the microphone. “Thank you.” His deep voice erupted from the speakers, containing magnetic power and masculinity.
Those who stood returned to their seats, and the round of applause started to fade away.
He didn’t pull a speech from his pocket. He seemed to have memorized it. “I’d like to thank Doug Johnson for selecting me as the recipient of this award. The more we value science, praise the work of all our STEM disciplines, the more we’ll inspire future generations to carry the torch when we’re gone. I truly believe there’s no disease we can’t conquer, and instead of treating symptoms of diseases, we need to treat the problem. In order to do that, we need to understand it. That’s my mission in life—to save as many lives as possible, to make the world a better place.” Instead of looking down, he scanned the crowd, as if he were talking to every person there on an intimate level. He was charismatic, deadly handsome, and truly inspiring.
After a pause, he continued to speak. “As some of you may know, I lost my father to lung cancer a few years ago. If only it had happened a few years later, my research may have been able to prolong his life. It haunts me to this day. If I’d worked a little faster, didn’t take that Saturday off, maybe my own work could have saved someone so close to me.” He paused as he reflected on his own words.
I knew that was how he’d lost his father—and it still was sad to hear. He must have decided to add that into the speech at the last moment, or maybe decided in that very moment.