by Evie Claire
Saam looked to his right where the chairman sat, reading over the document’s last page, slowly nodding as he processed the new information.
“Thank you for your transparency, Dr. Sherazi.” The chairman stood. Saam took a seat, giving him the floor. “In light of this new information, I would propose that we take the weeks between now and our next meeting to thoroughly review these protocols. We meet two weeks from next Monday. Is that long enough for everyone to review and vote on whether we implement them or not?”
“But they’ve already been implemented,” the CEO protested, worrying his hands over each other. “How could you not have disclosed this information then? There are potential legal ramifications here.”
The chairman’s back stiffened at the suggestion. “Dr. Sherazi, if you could speak to the time line of things, that could be helpful.”
Again, Saam stood, taking his place in front of the group.
“I completely understand if you decide to go in a different direction with regards to Lampalin.” Why did saying that feel like a punch in the gut? He didn’t owe Lorie anything. She had made that abundantly clear when she left his apartment three days ago. He paused to find his train of thought and continued. “The rest of my recommendations, however, are completely in line with the most recent developments in pediatric diabetic care.” Saam made a point of giving the CEO a hard stare; he was a businessman, not a physician. Emboldened by the move, and feeling the need to defend his professional reputation, Saam walked around from behind the table and stood in the center of the semi-circle they formed, rubbing a hand down the spiky fade at the back of his neck while he thought.
“I applied for research funding from Durden Pharmaceuticals nearly two months ago. My research is all circumstantial at this point. I did not think anything would come of it. At the board’s request”—again, Saam paused, pointedly looking at everyone—“I made the changes to the hospital protocols three weeks ago. Insulin will never change. Lampalin offers an advantage over its competitors through its innovative dosing system. That’s why I recommended it for newly diagnosed patients upon discharge. Three days ago, I received word that Durden was granting my research request.”
“You were unaware of your research grant at the time these changes were made?” the chairman clarified.
“That is correct.” Saam cleared his throat again. “I believe there were some whispers…rumors…about the possible formulary changes. To my knowledge, there was never any public announcement on the hospital’s behalf. It can still easily be changed.”
The chairman turned to the group. “To my knowledge, that is correct. The hospital pharmacy did begin work on pricing contracts but has not committed at this time.”
“I just don’t like the way it looks.” The CEO shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting farther back in his chair.
“I don’t disagree. That’s why we’re here.” Saam walked back around to his seat.
“Everyone will have their vote at the next meeting.”
The CEO grumbled a response under his breath but offered nothing more.
“If there is nothing else…” The chairman slowly looked at each face in the room, checking to see if there were any other matters of business. “This meeting is adjourned. Thank you for your time on such short notice.”
The group collectively moved to gather their things.
“Saam.” The chairman placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him. “Can you wait a minute?” Saam nodded, sensing this was a conversation requiring discretion.
The room cleared. Saam kept his seat.
“You volunteer with Camp Sunshine, right?” he started.
Yes, he had been a regular, but since everything with Lorie, he hadn’t been back to face those memories. Not yet at least. And he certainly couldn’t breathe a word of that. Not with everything else going on. He nodded, in a noncommittal kind of way.
“Alice, the director, reached out. They’re in dire financial straits. The reserves are gone. And what little the board can contribute isn’t a long-term solution. I know you’re busy. We all are. But could you meet with Alice and go over the details?”
“Closing, for good?” Saam asked. Sure, the camp was sparse, but that was the point of camp. Right?
“They don’t have the money to stay open.” The chairman nodded.
“Of course. I’ll call her this afternoon. I had no idea things had gotten that bad.”
“Thank you. I know it’s a passion of yours. You will remain on the board, if you can?” he asked, holding the door open for Saam.
“I haven’t decided where I’m going to do my research yet. My father heads up the Vascular Institute at Hopkins in Jacksonville. He can secure me space there, but I’m not entirely sure I want to be in his shadow.”
“I’ve heard of your father. That’s a big shadow to be in.”
“Yeah.” Saam’s eyes went wide at the idea. Being associated with anything related to Hopkins was a huge opportunity. But was that really what he wanted?
“Well, you’ll figure it out.” He clapped Saam on the back and turned down a hallway, leaving Saam to linger in the corridor that led out of the hospital building and back to his office. Back to his patients. Back to his problems.
Now that his conscience was eased over any potential conflict of interest, he had some major decisions to make. He would accept the funding. But what would that look like? Staying in Atlanta, seeing if he could get a space at the CDC? Maybe setting up his own lab somewhere. Or would he run back to the comforts of home, back to Jacksonville, and linger in his father’s shadow forever?
He thought as he strolled over the medical campus back to his office. Hands in his pockets, enjoying the hint of fall seeping into the breeze. Decisions, decisions.
The CDC was prestigious. Maybe more impressive than Hopkins for some.
I’m the research liaison for the CDC.
An ancient conversation with Lorie came flying back into his consciousness. He stopped dead in his tracks, parts of him warmed by her memory. Other parts plain pissed off that she still had such an effect on him. He should have forgotten her the moment she walked out of his apartment door.
Fuck buddies.
What the fuck was she thinking? The entire point of having or being a fuck buddy was to avoid the messy emotions often associated with sex. He and Lorie were so far past that point. Had been since that first night in Sugar Lake. Which was why it ate at him the way it did.
There were emotions. And feelings. Lots of them. Enough to make them utterly reckless. Saam wasn’t reckless. He was careful. Calculated. A doctor, for crying out loud.
Dwelling was demented.
He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Scrolled to his contacts. Found Lorie Braddock and swiped down her contact info—quickly before he lost his nerve. He took a deep breath, his thumb hovering over the final option.
And then lowering onto the screen.
Block this contact.
Chapter 28
Lorie
“Do you know how to make a dirty chai latte?”
Lorie narrowed her eyes, scanning a chalkboard menu she was unfamiliar with.
“Umm…” The girl behind the register turned to her fellow employee at the espresso machine.
“Sure.” He nodded. “It’s a chai latte with an espresso shot, right?” he asked for clarity’s sake.
“I believe so.” Lorie nodded, tapping her credit card on the counter. Was it demented that she was still drinking these? Probably, given the fact that she had gone so far as to switch coffee shops to avoid running into Saam.
Saam, she couldn’t have. A freakin’ latte, she freakin’ could.
A hand waving wildly in her periphery caught her attention. Turning, she found Quinn, Kate, Allen, and Victoria already waiting. She waved back, holding up a f
inger that she would just be a minute.
Coffee in hand, she rushed to the table. Kate pulled a chair back as she approached and moved Allen’s stuff out of the way, giving Lorie plenty of room to sit. Ever since the formulary win at Children’s, Kate didn’t treat her like the new girl anymore.
“Guys, I’m so sorry. Traffic was a nightmare.”
“Welcome to Atlanta.” Victoria rolled her eyes, dismissing her apology. “Let’s get going so I don’t keep you from doing your job. Kate, Allen, what do you guys have for me?”
Kate cleared her throat to speak. Lorie rushed to get her laptop pulled up to take notes.
“We heard a rumor yesterday.” Kate frowned, turning to Allen for moral support before continuing. “Apparently, the new Lampalin protocols we thought were going into place are now being reviewed by the Children’s Hospital board.” Kate turned from Allen to Lorie. “Have you talked to Dr. Sherazi about this?”
Caught mid-sip, Lorie raised a single finger, pointed at her mouth, and took her time to swallow, thankful for the moment to think.
“Um, no. He hasn’t mentioned anything about the board.” She shook her head. Not a total lie. It had been two weeks since he’d kicked her out of his apartment. Two weeks since their webs had become too twisted to untangle.
“I know why that is,” Victoria offered, leaning in. “This is not public knowledge, so not to be shared outside of us, but Durden has offered Dr. Sherazi funding for his research project.”
Lorie kept her head down, finding her coffee cup easier to look at than the faces that were surely pointed in her direction looking for an answer. Without any interjections, Victoria continued.
“Professionally and legally speaking, it’s a very good thing that Dr. Sherazi was so transparent with the hospital. Had he chosen not to say anything, this train could have been farther down the track and caused major liability issues for everyone involved. Now, we have to wait and see if the board agrees with his recommendations or not. A unanimous board vote to add Lampalin will mitigate any liability for Durden or Dr. Sherazi.”
“If Sherazi got funding from Durden does this mean he’s leaving?” Kate turned to her computer. “His numbers are ticking up. Slowly. But they are steady.”
Lorie’s stomach flipped at the thought. Even when she’d tried to fix things, she only mucked them up more.
“Yes, in all likelihood, Sherazi will be leaving. Regardless, if he moves into research, he will no longer be included in your sales numbers. Those patients will likely be absorbed by his partners in the short term.”
“So, we’re losing his numbers and the hospital?” Kate rubbed her hand over her forehead, quickly doing the math.
“We don’t know about the hospital yet.” Victoria tried to reassure her.
“What you really mean is that we don’t know if we’re going to Jamaica.” Allen frowned.
“Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in the kind of shit storm this could create. With today’s environment, the media would devour this story. You guys have to trust you’ve sold your product to the best of your ability.”
“Do we know anyone on the board other than Sherazi?” Quinn asked. “Could we get Lampalin in front of them?”
“Lorie, what was it that sold Sherazi on the product?” Kate asked, clearly still annoyed that she hadn’t been able to make any headway with the man.
“I focused on the needle size. He responded to that. Then I spoke specifically to how revolutionary our dosing system is—so simple a kid could do it. Did you guys know he volunteers at Camp Sunshine? He’s very passionate about pediatric patients.” Lorie laced her fingers together, propped her elbows on the table, and leaned her chin into the nest she’d made, pretending like she was thinking, but really hoping to avoid being caught in any lies. Because, honestly, she still had trouble saying his name aloud.
Shit.
There it was again. That damn fluttery, weightless feeling that overtook her body whenever she thought about him. Thought about them.
“Don’t you volunteer at Camp Sunshine?” Victoria asked.
Double shit.
“I do.” Lorie smiled, but offered nothing more.
And Victoria didn’t ask, instead giving a small, approving sound.
“Right, so, Lorie, for you this means a little extra work.” Victoria tapped the table in her line of sight to get her attention. Lorie snapped out of it. “The regional sales meeting is coming up end of September.”
“You mean the one where we either will or won’t win that trip to Jamaica?” Again, Allen frowned at the prospect. Kate rubbed his back.
“The same.” Victoria nodded, acknowledging his disappointment. “It’s in Atlanta. With Dr. Sherazi accepting Durden’s funding…”
“He already accepted?” Lorie blurted out before she could catch herself.
“You knew?” Victoria questioned.
Triple shit.
“I helped him fill out the original form. I…I mean…he mentioned something…” Lorie tried to act offhand.
“Okay.” Victoria shrugged it off, clearly not taking the time to do a mental time line of events and continued. “You need to plan a small ceremony for the official presentation to coincide with the meeting. I’d say twenty to thirty people tops, but there will be several Durden execs on hand, so be sure it’s nice. You’ve got roughly a month to plan everything.”
“Has Dr. Sherazi mentioned where he plans to do his research? I believe his father heads up the Vascular Institute at Johns Hopkins in Jacksonville.”
“Really? Well, that’s impressive.” Victoria pursed her lips in an approving way. “Durden would be thrilled to have a project associated with Hopkins.”
Lorie nodded her agreement, though it felt like a total betrayal of everything she was feeling inside. Because the thought of never seeing Saam again, even if it was for the best, was the least thrilling thought she could ever remember having.
Kate engaged Victoria on another matter. Lorie made a note on her calendar, propped her chin in her hand again, and sighed. She didn’t doubt her decision. Ending things with Saam was the right thing to do for everyone at the table. And even though they would never know what she had done, she was still glad she did it. Hell, maybe it reset her karma a tiny bit, too. The only part she didn’t like was how lousy her altruism felt on the inside. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out to find a text.
Quinn: U ?
She looked up, across the table to where her partner sat studying her. She forced a small smile, shrugged, and nodded.
Lorie: It’ll be fine. I hope.
Lie. But what was she supposed to say when she was wrestling with emotions she never should have allowed herself to have in the first place?
Quinn: CH formulary still may happen—buckle up, buttercup. Don’t be so sad.
Lorie drew a quick breath through her teeth when she read it, forcing a smile that trembled at the edges.
Yes, it might still happen. Lorie might still get credit for their bonuses. And while that felt really good, she could never have ever calculated what it would cost her.
Chapter 29
Lorie
Lorie pushed away from her desk, standing up and grabbing her phone as she walked into her bedroom to change out of her business suit. Saam had accepted Durden’s funding. Good. He should. That was exactly what she’d wanted him to do.
So why did the news make her nauseous?
Absently, she pulled up her Instagram account. Not because she was feeling especially social after the day she’d had, but because it held her only remaining link to Saam. She scrolled to the search tab, which populated with the suggestion of his name the instant it came into focus. Yes, she was stalking the hell out of Saam Sherazi. What else was she supposed to do? Her imagination could only do so much. She needed m
ore. And social stalking was the only way she could satisfy her fix.
His profile was slim. A few pics from forever ago. Fifty-six follows and fifteen followers. She grinned to herself every time she saw it. How in the hell could she—social butterfly that she was—be so attracted to someone who so obviously didn’t give two shits about his social life? Maybe that was it. She was a pleaser. He was so obviously not. Somehow, that made him feel like the most authentic thing in her life. He liked her. She liked him. In a normal world that could be their happily ever after. Only their world resembled a spiderweb made of rebar.
From his page, she selected the option to see his followers. Her fingers knew the path by heart. Because, as previously established, she was a bit of a creeper. When his short list of followers popped up, she found Amal’s name and selected her profile. God bless people who didn’t care to keep their social media feed private. Amal’s feed was fun. And boasted more pictures of Saam than his own page did.
Only this time, when her pictures pulled up, Lorie’s heart leapt up into her throat.
It was Saam. Gorgeous, Grecian godlike man that he was. In the sunshine and green grass rolling around with Amal’s two girls. His wide grin and mystic blue eyes dazzling more than they ever had. In Jacksonville.
In. Jacksonville.
“Which is where he belongs!” she reprimanded herself aloud.
Seeing him so happy hit home way too hard. In her room, she headed straight for bed and felt the weight of her chest caving in. She sank to the side of the mattress, missing its edge, and not caring to catch herself. Instead, she slid to the floor, sitting hard on her ass and clutching her phone like a lifeline to happiness.
She licked her dried lips, trying to force feeling back into them. Her eyes strayed down the page, searching for the caption. And if seeing him so happy had been hard, reading Amal’s words was a steel rod straight to the heart.