"Ah, he means the Twitch TV leaderboard. He's jealous as fuck because I've got more subscribers than he does. Forget about him. I can help you with some meditation next."
I cocked a brow at her. "Why don't you two just bang and get it over with?" I asked, repeating something she'd often said about another couple we knew that had bickered like Time Lords and Daleks before they'd gotten together.
Her brow arched up at me. "I don't shit where I eat. Never screw someone you work with."
"Ah." Luckily, that wasn't an official rule, or there'd be a lot of people fired around here.
Kat led me through some meditation, and then we sat on the mat while I consumed water by the bottleful and blotted my sweaty head with a soft white towel. "Well, thanks for that. I really needed a study break. But even thirty minutes away from the books these days gets me twitchy."
Kat unscrewed her bottle cap and threw me a long look. "Well, we should take a few more minutes, at least. I need to talk to you about Heath."
I hadn't seen Heath in almost a month, since our tea shop meeting with Camille. We hadn't managed to connect much since then. I'd only started back at school a week ago, and already the second year of medical school--called M2--was promising to kick my butt. And Heath had grown quieter and more subdued, during the few months since Connor had left.
But Kat, as his roommate, had more current info. So I asked, "How's he doing?"
"He was doing okay till we all got the news that Connor's dad had died."
I nodded, remembering the stoic email we'd all received from Ireland. "Poor Connor. We sent his family a basket. It's so sad. I think they were expecting him to make a full recovery."
Kat fiddled with her water bottle. "Yeah, well, now Connor is saying he needs to stay longer, help out his family."
"Understandable." I shrugged. "I'm sure this has put quite a burden on them all. And Connor being the eldest--"
Kat's lips thinned. "They had an argument about it. Heath was shouting at him over Skype."
That seemed unusually insensitive of Heath. I frowned. "What's this really about?"
"Heath thinks Connor's not coming back. That he's returned to Ireland for good because his family needs him."
I bit my lip and chewed on it. "And why does Heath think that?"
Kat shook her head and took another sip of water, the plastic of her bottle crackling as she tightened her grip on it. Her lips whitened, too. "He's not doing so hot, Mia. He's either spending hours on the game or he's drinking. He's behind on all his web design deadlines, or so I suspect. I think he's starting to fall apart."
Ugh. Worry gripped me, but at the same time, my eyes drifted over to my book bag and the massive stack of notes, highlighted articles, and papers I knew were inside. I had so much to do to prepare for the Step 1 Medical Board exam that all M2 students had to pass. My gut tightened--shades of my MCAT failure as an undergrad had come back to haunt me...and then some.
And a wedding to plan.
And a ghost fiance to connect with somewhere in that mix.
I'd come over to his workplace today to spend time with him and instead hadn't even caught a glimpse of the elusive CEO beast. He ran--sometimes literally--from meeting to meeting. And at night, half the time he wasn't home, either out on the road on some trip or managing a crisis that apparently only he could oversee.
I licked my lips and fidgeted. "I'll talk to Heath, but..." I shrugged, suddenly awash with hopelessness. "I have no idea what I can do for him or even how."
More crackling from her now-empty bottle. I reached out and gently took it from her grip. The sound was driving me up a tree. Kat cleared her throat. "I think that making the effort will help a lot. I've tried, but...you know damn well that I'm not as close to him as you are. Not by a long shot."
I smiled at her. "I'm thankful that you're there. Imagine how much worse this could be if he were dealing with this completely alone. Problem is he's going to be all belligerent if I show up after not getting together with him in weeks and suddenly ask him to spill his troubles to me."
She rocked from side to side on the mat as if trying to get comfortable. "Why don't I invite you over for movie night or something? Then I could, uh, get a phone call and disappear into my room."
I blinked, shifting my gaze to my friend. "Wow, you're good at this stuff."
She nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Better keep your eye on me."
"I fully intend to."
We chatted some more, firming up plans for the Heath ambush, and also discussed other things...her Twitch TV following and her rivalry with Lucas Walker.
I bit my tongue, noting how her fists tensed when she talked. I knew Lucas--barely--and remembered that he was good looking. And Kat had not dated a single soul since coming to California from Canada when I was sick the year before. She'd dropped everything--her entire life, her job, everything--to come south and be with me.
But she rarely talked about home or her family, and it worried me sometimes.
I finally did catch a glimpse of the elusive fiance--on his way out the door to the dinner meeting he'd told me about.
"Hey! Not even a drive-by smooch?" I called, chasing after him as he strode toward his car. He slowed his gait--but, notably, did not stop--and held out his hand, which I grabbed.
"Sorry. I'm already late." His fingers closed around mine--too tightly.
"Why aren't you and Jordan driving there together? Looks like he's late, too." I nodded to Jordan's massive SUV parked beside Adam's Tesla.
"Eh, screw him," he muttered, and before I could ask, he threw an arm around my waist and pulled me into a kiss--again, harder than normal. I reached up to push against his shoulder to ease him off a bit and almost gasped at the tension in his entire frame. He was wound so tight he seemed about to break.
When I pulled away, he was already halfway into his car. A glance over my shoulder revealed Jordan coming out of the front doors at a half-run. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Adam's back. Were these two not getting along? What the hell?
"Don't forget you live with someone, and I'm trying to keep my bedtime at a decent hour. I'm not waiting up till midnight for you."
He started the car. It whirred to life. Even though I drove one very similar to this, I still couldn't get used to how quiet they were. "I'll be home before you go to bed."
"How much before?" I folded my arms across my chest.
"Enough before," he said with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes before he hid them behind his sexy Aviator sunglasses. Then he backed out of his space, and I shifted my weight, jutting out my hip and feigning a scowl as I watched him go. Of course, he'd get home in time for bedtime sex. He only missed that when he was out of the country.
Jordan had paused by his car to watch Adam drive off, his eyes still narrowed. I turned around and looked at him.
"Hey, Jordan."
He nodded at me as he threw his briefcase into his car.
"Everything okay?"
"Just fine. See ya, Mia."
"Tell April--" But he'd already jumped in, slammed the door and started the car, waving to me as he pulled out.
Weirder and weirder.
Adam made it home in time--barely. I'd drifted to sleep slumped over my textbooks in my study, and he carried me to bed. When I sleepily responded that he was too late for bedtime sex, he apologized and said he'd make amends and devote the entire weekend to me.
It was enough to convince me to rescind my punishment. When it came to Adam, I was an easy lay.
So the weekend was mine. And he kept his word. Mostly.
He did spend some time attached to his evil phone, however. Even when we went for dinner at Peter and my mom's house--this time on Saturday night instead of Sunday, because Mom wanted some alone time with the two of us. Adam and I were anticipating some kind of premarital counseling session or something.
But hey, she made moussaka, one of my favorite dishes to ever come out of her oven, and our chef, while v
ery talented, rarely did Greek, so who was I to argue? I'd sit through some well-meaning advice if it meant I could scarf down Mom's awesome food.
"Damn, that was good," I said, picking up the last bits of custard and meat from my plate. It had been eons since Mom had made moussaka. In fact, the last time was the night she told me about her cancer biopsy. I frowned at that thought. The dish was labor intensive--multiple layers, each taking lots of chopping, mincing, and sauteing to execute. She hadn't made it in years...
But she'd made it tonight. Had this somehow morphed into the "bad news" meal? Were Peter and Mom going to get a divorce or, worse, have a baby or something?
I studied her suspiciously. She kept darting nervous glances at Peter, who would look at me. And if he noticed me watching them, he'd clear his throat and ask a question or change the subject.
Adam, as usual, engaged in a love affair with his phone. Mostly it would beep at him. He'd check it and then stick it back in his pocket.
Finally, I turned to him. "Any interest in turning that off?"
He smirked at me. "Not really?"
"What if I threaten to give you a wedgie?"
"It would be amusing to see you try."
"Turn off the phone, or when you least expect it...expect it."
His dark brows climbed his forehead. "Resorting to threats?"
"It's not a threat--it's a promise." I rubbed my hands together. "Atomic wedgie time."
"He's six feet tall and one and a half times your weight. How are you going to give him a wedgie?" my mom asked.
I shrugged. "I'll figure out a way."
Adam gave one last glance at his phone. "I'd better shut it off. I'm really scared right now." He feigned biting his fingernails in fear as he pointedly turned off the device.
I snickered. Usually a joke or two like that was all it took to remind him that he was being irritating with his goddamn phone. I used to get madder at him, but I'd come to the conclusion long ago that most of the time, when he was in work mode, he didn't even realize he was being rude.
That was what spouses were for, right? To when you were screwing up?
I winked at him and pointed to the last bit of moussaka on his plate with my fork. "You going to eat that?"
In a split second, he speared the morsel with his fork and popped it into his mouth. "Yep," he said after he'd swallowed then winked right back at me.
"Balls," I muttered.
Both Peter and Mom started laughing.
"Never going to be a dull moment at your house, that's for sure," Peter said after the laughter had died down.
Adam's eyes were glowing with amusement when he looked over at me. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he grinned and chucked my cheek. "Nope, the word dull can never be applied to us. That's true." His hand opened. and he smoothed it across my cheek.
I turned my head and kissed his palm before he dropped it. Our gazes locked with promises of more kisses later, when we were alone. If he stayed off his damn phone long enough, that was.
Whatever this server data center project was he was working on lately, I'd be damned relieved once it was over. His work stress level was ridiculous. I was going to need to work up the courage to have "the talk" with him. Hopefully, he wouldn't start rolling his eyes and tuning me out whenever I brought up the phrase work-life balance.
"Well, since we're all in a good mood...I need to pass something along to you, Mia." Mom reached over to her purse on the adjacent table, pulled an envelope out, and slid it across the table to me.
It had my full name typed on it and was a legal-sized manila envelope. "Are you serving me papers, Mother? Am I about to be sued?"
Mom's long, thin fingers tapped the surface of the dinner table nervously. "No...not suing you. I'll save that for later when I seek a refund for all the ballet lessons I footed. They never paid off."
"Ballet? As in a little pink tutu?" Adam said, turning to me with a huge grin.
I held up a hand to block out his commentary. "I'll deal with you later. Now...back to the woman who birthed me." I tapped the envelope with my finger. "What is this?"
Mom's mouth thinned. She'd likely been hoping I'd open it straight away so she wouldn't have to explain. She nodded to it. "It's, uh, from Glen Dempsey."
I ripped my hand from the envelope as if it had morphed into a poisonous scorpion.
Mom expelled a breath. "Oh, come on, Mia."
Adam's eyes flicked from my mother to me and back again. "Who is Glen Dempsey?"
Mom waited quietly while I sorted through a complex but brief progression of emotions--shock, dismay, surprise, anger, curiosity. About two minutes into that process, while I sat fidgeting and frowning at the envelope, Mom finally answered Adam's question.
"Glen is Mia's half-brother."
Adam did not respond, but returned his gaze intently to me. When I looked up, he cocked his head at me. "I thought you didn't know your half-siblings."
I shook my head. "I don't. I have no idea what this guy wants. And I don't much care."
Mom admitted, "It's my fault. I, um, contacted his father."
I was sure my face showed the shock and disgust I was feeling at the thought of what it must have taken for my mother to do that. To reach out after twenty-four years and make contact with the man who'd lied to her, used her, and then dropped her like a hot rock when she was barely more than a teenager herself.
"Why... Just, why would you do that?"
"Because you got really sick and I realized I didn't know half of your medical history. So I asked him for medical and genetic records."
I took a deep breath and then released it. Well, it made sense. My mom had shown a lot of initiative--and courage--to make the contact.
"So I presume this is his information?"
"Not exactly...he wouldn't comply to my request."
I raised my brow, unwilling to think too long or hard about that information, but aware of the vague sting at his rejection. Yet again. It didn't matter how long ago I'd come to peace with it, it still hurt. What a piece of shit.
Mom cleared her throat and continued. "Somehow Glen got hold of my letter and contacted me, volunteering to provide his own information if that would help."
Suddenly, Adam's hand was on mine, and his fingers closed tightly. "You okay?"
I shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be? Newsflash, my father's an asshole. I already knew that."
Mom sighed heavily. "It's probably because the communication came from me. I'm sure he's avoided anything with my name on it for legal reasons. I, ah, signed a non-communication agreement with him when he gave me the settlement over you. Don't take it personally."
I blinked. "Oh, I take it personally, Mother. How could I not? But I also know it's not through any fault of mine that he reacts the way he does." I picked up the envelope and went to tuck it inside my bag. "Thanks for the medical info."
"When he gave it to me, Glen told me he wrote you a letter inside." I froze and met Mom's gaze. Her voice died out as she continued. "A personal note..."
"You met him?"
Mom nodded. "Yes. He asked to meet me. We had lunch, and it was very pleasant. He asked to meet you, too."
My jaw loosened, and I gave the envelope an extra-forceful push into the tote bag I'd brought. "Interesting." It was the only thing that popped into my head to say at that moment.
"He's a good man, Mia. I think it would do you--"
I held my hand up. "No, please. No lectures. I'm fine, and I'll continue to be fine, and I don't need to meet the asshole himself--or his children or his nephews or cousins or anyone else related to him. As long as I have the medical information I need, I'm good."
Mom wanted to say more--I knew she did--but her mouth snapped closed, and her gaze dropped from mine as she nodded vigorously.
Later, when we were in the driveway saying goodbye before getting in the car to go home, she held me tight around my neck and said quietly into my ear, "I would never make you do something you didn't want t
o do. I hope you know that. But...I love you, and I'm sorry."
I shook my head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
She nodded. "I do...I do. I'm sorry I didn't make better choices."
I kissed her on the cheek and reassured her again, but...there was something in her words. And when I examined my feelings deep down, I did acknowledge the resentment--even if just a tiny tinge of it--I felt toward her. If she'd made a better choice, I could have grown up with a dad like Peter...
But when I went down that path, it got weird. Because if Peter had been my dad, then Adam and I would have been first cousins. And, well, that was squicky, and I didn't want to go there.
Eventually, I'd muster up the desire and courage to look at the report--maybe even read the letter. But for now, it wasn't important.
Chapter 5
Adam
Emilia was silent on the way home, and I knew it was because of that bomb her mother had dropped on her during dinner. It usually took Emilia time to process things like that, and it was best to leave her alone to work through her thoughts. So I skipped the small talk as we drove. She reached out and took my hand, sliding over to lean her head on my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head and kept driving.
When we got home, I kept my phone off and asked her what she wanted to do until we went to bed. To my surprise and delight, she suggested we pull out our laptops and play Dragon Epoch together. We'd create brand-new characters on a different server to avoid getting chastised by our friends, who'd take offense at us logging on and playing without them.
I rolled a dark-haired woman named DirtyTshirtLuvr, complete with brand-new and shiny chain mail bikini. In retaliation, Emilia created a human male named Wedgie. And we laughed and did every stupid thing we could think of--like attempting quests way beyond our level and jumping off high places and going splat, leaving as many virtual corpses on the ground as we could. She joked about pulling trains using AoE spells and kiting mobs, but I wouldn't let her. The innocent newbies around us didn't deserve that.
"You're no fun. I could start a guild war." She pouted, the effect spoiled when she started laughing.
"Yeah, you could, but no," I replied. "I'll ban you."
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