I have a sincere desire to meet you and a concern for your welfare. I know that you are in remission from cancer. I can’t even imagine what going through that must have been like, but I can empathize, especially at your young age. I’m pained to learn of all the challenges you’ve had to overcome.
In the interest of keeping this brief, let me close with this… I would love to get to know you better, but I also realize that you may not be ready for this step in your life. That is completely understandable. You may reach out at any time you want to. Don’t do it because your mom wants you to or because I’d like you to. Do it for yourself only.
I wish you nothing but happiness, great health, and success in all of your endeavors.
From your older brother,
Glen Dempsey
With a long sigh, I handed the letter to Adam, and he read it at his typical breakneck speed.
When he was done, he looked up, black eyes revealing nothing. “So what do you think?”
I shrugged. “First impression? He seems like a nice guy.”
He tilted his head, watching me while also indicating in his subtle way that he agreed with my conclusion.
“And it seems like he really wants to meet me.”
“Yeah. Are you going to?”
I shrugged. “I guess I have decide if I really want to. Maybe?”
Adam nodded and handed the letter to me.
I skimmed it again. “I could email him for now…to thank him for the files and the trouble he took to get all that together. Thanks to that, I probably know more about my father’s medical background than most people who grew up knowing their father.”
“Yes, the biological sperm donor is no longer a mystery.” Then his voice died out into a long pause. He cleared his throat and shifted on the couch to face me. “Did you…did you find any cancer history on his side?”
He asked the question so quietly. So calmly. With a practiced nonchalance that I knew was his typical mask behind which he hid a certain level of anxiety—in particular, about this subject.
“No cancer that I could see.”
He nodded, face still blank. “Anything else to worry about?”
“Only the same things that afflict much of the American population. Diabetes. Heart disease, all that fun stuff.”
He frowned briefly before getting up and moving to the folder on the desk. “Mind if I have a look?”
“It’s fascinating reading,” I said drily.
He shrugged self-consciously. “I’ll have it back to you shortly.”
I wondered what he was going to do with it—beside commit it to his photographic memory. As I sat down at my laptop to compose a quick email to Glen, I thought about Adam’s sober behavior when it came to my health history.
Of course, it made sense. Sometimes when we referred to that dark year—the year I’d gotten cancer and then barely survived cancer’s even lovelier cure—it was in hushed tones. And we almost never discussed the terrible loss we’d endured in order to get that far.
It had taken its toll on both of us. And in some ways, we had our own form of post-traumatic stress disorder from it. Thus, the regular but thinly disguised breast exams in the shower and the subtle but not-so-subtle questions about how I was feeling. The fact that his assistant had been instructed to make my doctor’s appointments on the first day a follow-up appointment was due. Thanks to Maggie, I never missed an appointment.
As usual, Adam was taking control or grasping to the illusion that he had some modicum of it where this issue was concerned. But we both knew damn well that we didn’t have control. We could be diligent and vigilant. But there were no guarantees. And the heavy, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that my health issues had caused this uneasiness in him. But when you loved someone, you took all of their baggage on. And some of my baggage was health related. So be it. In sickness and in health…
I gazed out the door where Adam had disappeared with the papers. And I opened my laptop and composed an email response to Glenn Dempsey.
***
“Is there such a thing as a Groomzilla?” I asked the young women sitting at the table with me—April, Jenna, Alex, and Kat. We had met at a nearby hotel for Sunday brunch to discuss the details of my bridal shower that they insisted on organizing for me. The girls had all dressed in Sunday best, far outshining the bride, who hadn’t read the memo and showed up in jeans, a sweater, and heels instead. My bad.
“Yeah. Groomzillas are the opposite of Bridezillas,” Alex said. “My big brother was like that when he got married—a typical big Mexican Catholic wedding. Groomzillas act chill and don’t want to hear anything about the details of the wedding and then veto things days before and make it all about them.”
I frowned. “Oh.” I pushed tropical fruit sprinkled with shredded coconut around on the plate in front of me. That definitely didn’t sound like whatever it was Adam had. In the days since he’d returned from his trip, I’d been privy to a flurry of emails that were cc’d to me. They whizzed back and forth between Adam and our wedding planner as they worked out the most minute details.
I read most of the emails when I could keep up. Seriously, when did he have the time for them? I’d fallen behind on reading the news and then all had grown silent. I’d assumed that meant they’d finalized those details and we were all set—until I overheard Adam on the phone talking to her and referring to the most recent emails, emails which I’d most definitely not seen. With no small amount of shock, I realized then that I’d been kicked off the email loop and Adam only consulted me on things he couldn’t do without me. Like deciding on the dude of honor’s outfit, for example.
“Your hubby-to-be has a type A personality,” April pointed out, sipping from her tall, skinny mimosa glass.
“No shit, Sherlock,” snorted Kat as she signaled for the waitress to bring her third mimosa. “Calling Adam a type A is like saying water is wet.”
April shrugged. “I mean that it’s natural that he’d take this over. Think of it like he’s the CEO of your wedding. And you’re the chairman of the board of directors.”
I raised my brow, feeling a woozy from my one and only Bloody Mary. “So that makes me the boss, right?”
April grinned widely. “Of course. He probably realizes you’ve got a lot going on with your big medical board test and wants to make it easier on you. Consider yourself lucky. Jordan won’t even say the M-word in my presence. Not that he has to worry about me jumping on it. That boy. Sometimes…” She shook her head.
“Sometimes you want to punch him in the face?” I laughed. “Me, too.” April’s smile faltered, and she studied my empty cocktail glass. I pointed to it, following her lead. “Totally the alcohol talking. I don’t really want to punch Jordan in the face.” Most of the time, anyway.
“Don’t hurt his face, Mia. It’s too pretty.” Her smile returned.
A few minutes later, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and caught April’s eye with a nod.
“When you’re finished in there, we are totally going to talk about the bridal shower,” Jenna said. “Totally. Soon as the mimosas wear off.”
April followed me to the ladies’ room and turned to me expectantly once we got in there.
“Did you find out if there’s anything going on between Jordan and Adam?” I asked.
April grimaced. “Yeah, Jordan’s being tightlipped. But there is definitely something. Whenever Adam’s name comes up, he gets all tense and starts swearing.”
My brows shot up. “That’s almost the same reaction on the other end. I think I’m going to bite the bullet and ask him tonight. I was ninety-nine percent sure he was going to ask Jordan to be his best man, but he hasn’t and was evasive about it when I asked him. I’ll report back if I hear something. These crazy kids need to kiss and make up.”
April looked off to the side, giggling and then, suddenly, blushing furiously.
I frowned at her. “What?”
“I was picturing them kissing and m
aking up. It was…um, kinda hot.” We both laughed.
Once we returned to the table, I was grilled about my wedding dress. I passed around the same fitting picture I’d shown April weeks before. Kat had already seen it, too.
“I’d love one of those new ombre-style wedding gowns with all the dark colors around the skirt,” Jenna chimed. “I’d get it in shades of green—or purple.”
“I’d love to do something with those 3-D lace floral appliqués and the tiny crystal beads. Have you seen those? They are to die for,” April cooed.
“Shall I let William and Jordan know that you two have your gowns all picked out?” I snarked, glancing up from my phone after having sent off a text. “I’m sure they’d love to hear it.”
April’s big eyes grew impossibly bigger, and Jenna gave me a smartass smirk.
“Oh, I know…I’ll make sure to get two bouquets, and now I know exactly who to throw them to. Won’t that make your men freak out?”
“Speaking of freaking out…have you told Adam you want to keep your maiden name yet?” Kat asked, nibbling on a piece of smoked salmon on toast.
Before I could answer, Alex piped up. “You’re going to keep your maiden name? You can’t do that. Unless you want to add his name, too. That’s okay. But you want to have the same last name as your kids, right?”
I let go of a shaky breath, with no desire to go there, especially with Alex. I wasn’t going to base such a decision such an uncertainty. “I’ve lived my entire life with this last name. I’ve accomplished some wonderful things with this last name. It’s the last name on my college degree. Why would I get rid of it? Besides, I’ve always envisioned myself as one day being called Dr. Strong, you know? Dr. Drake sounds weird. We won’t even discuss Strong-Drake with a hyphen… That one is off the table.”
Jenna laughed. “Yeah, that one sounds a bit ridiculous.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Drake’s gonna be your last name, too, someday, so don’t diss it.”
She blushed furiously. “Back to you and your wedding…”
“You know what a lot of women in business do?” April offered, her fork poised in the air like a lecture pointer. “They take both names legally and use their maiden name for business and their married name socially. So you could be Dr. Strong at work and Mrs. Drake when accepting invitations to social galas and the like.”
Because we knew I’d be attending so many of those in between lectures, labs, and exams. But it was a good idea. “That’s a perfect solution. I will be bringing that up with Mr. Type A himself tonight.”
April smiled wide at me, clearly happy to have been useful.
We finally got down to business and talked about the shower. Since we weren’t going to have a massive local affair for the wedding, the shower would stand in for a nice luncheon with great food and live entertainment at a beachside restaurant. The girls all happily took to the planning of it. More power to them.
Finally, we made our way home. Or rather, a driver took us. Someone had made a good call and organized that, considering all the breakfast cocktails.
A fun time was had by all. Now to stop procrastinating and get to the bottom of this Jordan and Adam business.
Chapter 9
Adam
“Jordan would like to meet with you sometime today,” my assistant, Maggie, stated during our usual late morning check-in.
I rubbed my head, fearing the beginning of a migraine. I felt like shit, and I knew that lack of sleep was catching up with me. But after my morning workout, that general crappy feeling was joined by a sharp pain in my shoulder. Great. I must have pulled a muscle or agitated an old injury.
And it was Monday. And I had the week from hell laid out in front of me—including yet another board meeting. My lawyer had not delivered good news where that was concerned, but I was not giving up, pursuing multiple opinions.
I planned on bringing him to my next meeting regardless. It was time to ready for battle. I’d even made a note to pull out my favorite book and reread it. The Art of War may not have served me well when applied to personal relationships, but it was absolutely applicable to business.
And since I expected an ultimatum soon, it was time. He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.
“I don’t have time.” I sighed.
“He’s getting testy. He complained that you canceled on him twice already.”
“Please inform him that the position of CEO of this company is rather time-consuming,” I snarled.
She shook her head. “How about you send him an email?”
“And what do I pay you for?” I asked with a lopsided smile.
She sighed heavily, punctuated with her own smile. “Fine. I’ll send him the email. But he listens better when it comes from you.”
Maggie and Jordan didn’t see eye to eye very often, so I assumed it would be no sweat to her to put him off. If he was getting bitchy about it…not my problem.
“Make sure and mention that I’m doing a review of IT performance again today. That should keep him away.”
“Can I at least mollify him with a slot tomorrow or anytime later this week?”
Only if you warn me so I can cancel it beforehand. I almost said it. Instead, I nodded to placate her—which I cared more about doing than appeasing Jordan.
“Friday afternoon,” I stated. “Late afternoon.” That should send him the message. I had no fucks to give him.
This issue, along with the ongoing drama in IT with my slacker director, was enough to be migraine-inducing. But, of course, the onslaught of wedding plans continued. Work was turning into drudgery. I generally loved my job—a lot—but nowadays, everything was starting to feel empty and pointless.
This sucked. And every day sucked harder.
Maggie was watching me with narrowed eyes. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look so good.”
My breath escaped with a hiss. “I’m fine. We’re done here, right?” I reached over and opened my laptop.
“Yeah, we’re done. Apparently, I have some emails to write.” She got up to go then turned back toward me before leaving the office. “Drink some water, Adam, and maybe catch a nap? You don’t want to get sick…”
I waved her off, already engrossed in my laptop.
Later that day, I found myself in play testing, remembering that I hadn’t gotten to the bottom of that surprise quest. Emilia had asked me about it again last night. The devs were on a deadline, and I usually stayed away from their neck of the woods during that time. They got punchy when they saw me lurking around and found it hard to concentrate on their work.
But the play testers knew about every quest in the game, thus, I could easily get to the bottom of this mystery here.
Except that when I walked into their section—nicknamed the Den—it was half empty.
“What—” I scanned the room, noting the half-dozen empty stations that were normally filled with heavily caffeinated game testers.
A tall, skinny kid—Lucas, my lead play tester—jumped out of his seat and trotted up with a smile. “Hey, Adam. What brings you to our cavernous wasteland?”
“Hey, man. I was in the neighborhood, actually. How’s it going?” I reached out and bumped a fist with him. “Everybody out on a taco run today? I thought that was on Fridays.”
A few people sat at their consoles wearing headphones and testing software and equipment. Since they were busy, none of them had noticed me enter, though I recognized the bright red hair of Katya—our friend and, for the past year, my employee.
“Most of the group is on that field trip to the new backup server facility,” Lucas explained. “It’s on the calendar for today. Wasn’t that your idea?”
Nodding, I rubbed my forehead, noting the beginning of what was going to be an ass-kicking headache. “Yeah, forgot that was today.”
He paused, waiting while I tried to clear my head then rubbed at the pain in my shoulder. Jesus, I was a goddamn mess. Maybe I’d give in and take a s
leeping pill tonight. The two- and three-hour nights were finally catching up to me.
After a long and awkward pause where I imitated some cranky grandpa with my aches and pains, he asked, “Anything I can help you with?”
“Yes. There’s a new quest in the game, and I don’t recall any discussion on the implementation.”
He hesitated. “The devs would be able to help with that.”
“I’m well aware, but as you guys run through every quest, you would know, too.”
Lucas nodded toward his workstation, and I followed him over to the table where he’d been working. He sat and logged into the database. “Is it live?”
“Yeah, apparently, or at least the first part of it is.”
“What’s it called?”
“Lord Sisyphus’s Wedding Quest.”
Lucas frowned, hesitated, and then shot a curious glance up at me. He straightened without having typed anything into the database. “Oh, that one.”
“You know it?”
“I tested it,” he admitted, standing from his chair like he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.
“And…? Can you give me the background on it? Who implemented, when it was implemented? Its status?”
Lucas shot me a careful look. “It, uh, came down in a batch of orders from development marked important, so I took charge of it and ran all the testing on it.”
“And where did it come from?”
He shrugged. “Where they all come from. Development.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist—or a computer programmer—to realize that he was being deliberately evasive. I folded my arms over my chest. “Is one of the devs pulling a joke on me with this? What does the quest do?”
Lucas’s eyes widened. “Uh. I’m—I’m not supposed to reveal that information.”
I blinked. “What?”
Behind me, I heard someone stand up from their console and slowly walk toward us. I was too busy skewering young Lucas with an icy glare.
Worth Any Cost: (Adam & Mia #4) (Gaming The System Book 6) Page 10