Worth Any Cost

by Brenna Aubrey

  He didn't say anything, instead clenching his jaw so that his cheek bulged. Then, getting up, he turned away from me and he went to the window to peer out of it.

  The silence grew, and I cleared my throat, suddenly uneasy. I stood from my chair, and for lack of anything better to do with my hands, I stuffed them into the pockets of my jeans. "I said some shitty things--"

  "Shitty things were said all around," he interrupted. "And I get it. Tensions are high. Emotions are high. You're facing a huge life change. But I can't help but wonder, after this, if being the best damn company officer I can be and being your friend are mutually exclusive."

  I straightened, studying his posture--the rigidity of his shoulders, the hands clenched into fists. "Of course not," I said quietly.

  "Really?" He turned to me. "Because that's sure as hell not what it feels like from here."

  I paused, realizing that I should have expected this. I should have prepared for the pushback. I had no idea, in truth, what I had been expecting. A few jokes. Jordan blowing the whole thing off with his usual brand of salty humor. Maybe some well-deserved putdowns aimed in my direction. His usual BS. I braced myself to take my lumps.

  He put a hand out toward me. "We've been friends for a long time, Adam, and business partners for almost as long. I've messed up in the past. I fucked up huge last year, and you had my back then. I'll always be grateful for that. And if you know me, you know that loyalty means a lot to me. And you've earned my loyalty many times over."

  I blinked, at once touched and troubled by his speech. It was true. He was loyal--sometimes to a fault. In so many other ways throughout our history, he'd been there for me. Jordan had even been an asshole to Emilia when we'd had our relationship troubles--out of protectiveness toward me.

  "But I like to think that I've earned your loyalty repeatedly as well. And your trust. And I felt neither."

  My jaw dropped--it wasn't hard to hear the hurt in his voice, and I was a first-class dick for having caused it. "I do trust you, Jordan."

  "Really? You have a strange way of showing it. You treated me like I was only out for myself. And you wouldn't meet with me so we could find a solution everyone could live with."

  "Well, like you said, we all screw up sometimes. I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry."

  He took a step toward me. "And I'm not trying to be a hard-ass here. As far as I'm concerned, this is already the past and water under the bridge." He mirrored my stance, putting his hands into his pockets. "However, that doesn't mean that I'm convinced this isn't going to keep happening over and over again."

  "This was a...special case. I saw this as an attempt by the board to control my personal life."

  "Yeah, control. That's a big issue for you, man. We've talked about it before. Your need for control is based on the fact that you don't trust anyone else to do as good a job as you can." He sighed.

  I opened my mouth to contradict that statement, but shut it again. He was right. And I'd been a colossal asshole, because Jordan had done a good job. He'd always done a good job. He'd been doing his job when he broached the prenup issue, and I'd blown him off, insulting him in the process. My face flushed hot with shame. I looked away to cover the uncomfortable moment, and he continued to talk.

  "The outcome of this company is in the board's best interest, too. And yeah, sometimes you have an employee who can't get his shit together--like Alan--and you have to can them. But the rest of us are right there with you on the front lines, trying to make this the most awesome company it can possibly be." He shook his head, his own face flushing--I assumed with anger or frustration. Probably both. "You've gotta loosen up on the reins and let us do our job."

  For lack of anything to say, I nodded. I felt like a fool standing here speechless like a chastened schoolboy, but what the hell else was I going to do? I knew this was a problem. Emilia pointed it out to me often, and I'd fooled myself into thinking I'd been listening to her all this time. Did she feel this same level of frustration with me, too? Did everyone?

  "I'm saying this as your friend, not your CFO," he continued. "There are only so many hours in the day for Adam, the control freak; Adam, the visionary who's going to change the world; and Adam, the loving husband. You can't be all of these people all of the time, so you're going to have to make some choices--hopefully good ones. Or continue to drive yourself to an early grave, not giving a shit and letting everyone who loves you pay the consequences."

  I sucked in a breath, folding my arms over my chest. My lumps indeed. Jordan was dishing them without hesitation today--and without buffer. And as hard as it was to hear, I resolved to take his words to heart. Because they echoed that voice that had been talking inside my head since I got sick. They echoed what Emilia had been saying for some time now. Everyone I cared about had been singing the same tune, and now their voices were unified into a great chorus in my imagination.

  And it was my choice to listen or blow them off, yet again.

  I swallowed. "We all have learning curves. This one has been mine."

  "Wow," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "Did Adam Drake just admit that he's still got shit to learn? If there's no flying pigs today, then I'm thinking that maybe hell froze over instead. I won't be able to check on that until I die, though."

  "Smartass motherfucker," I muttered, shaking my head. "You're really making me pay for this shit, aren't you?"

  "That's what friends are for." His gaze met mine and held for a few moments of awkward silence. A light bulb went off in my head. Emilia had once called me on my work addiction shit, but Jordan's words made me realize that I had no addiction to work.

  I had an addiction to control. And all this time I'd been treating the by-product--long work hours and preoccupation with everything to do with the company and my business--and not the root of the problem.

  If I didn't get a handle on this, it could ruin everything good I had going in my life. It would erode my professional relationships, my personal friendships. Possibly, eventually, my marriage.

  I rubbed my jaw to cover for my shock at this conclusion. Jordan was watching me closely. I gestured to his chair and sank back into mine. "You've been a really good friend. And I couldn't have asked for a better CFO."

  My voice sounded...off. And I desperately needed some time alone to think this shit through, but Jordan moved to his seat, sinking into it. He sat in silence, swiveling nervously on his chair. Then he cleared his throat and spoke. "I couldn't have asked for a better friend, Adam. Thank you."

  We both looked at each other, a bit stunned at the emotion of the moment. Then Jordan shook himself and blinked. "Fuck, what is this, a therapy session? Am I about to grow tits?"

  I shrugged. "Well, that would certainly be convenient."

  He ran a hand through his hair. "Goddamn. I feel the need to use power tools while simultaneously barbecuing a side of beef and guzzling whiskey."

  I laughed. "Maybe we should take Liam up on his offer to fight it out with swords and armor."

  "Yeah, that's old-school macho. Why not?" We chuckled, the weird moment finally broken. Jordan leaned back, scratching the edge of his jaw, and flicked a glance at me. "So I have to ask--"

  "It's handled," I interrupted. "We're hammering out the document now. She'll sign it when we're satisfied."

  His brow twitched. "Glad to hear it. Hope it wasn't too stressful for her."

  "It wasn't stressful at all. She completely understood."

  If we had not had the previous uncomfortable conversation, I would have expected the next words out of his mouth to be I told you so. Mercifully, they weren't.

  Jordan nodded. "She's a smart one. I'm glad it wasn't a problem."

  "It forced us to open up to each other about a lot of important things. It's been good."

  He hesitated and then nodded. "I'm not going to pretend I know everything you're going through or your circumstances."

  "You will, soon enough."

  He shook his head. "April and I already discu
ssed it, and it's a non-issue for us. There will be a prenup--when the time comes."

  I suppressed a smile. So my suspicion that all his anti-marriage talk was mostly for show was correct.

  He shrugged. "I haven't even popped the question."

  "Yet."

  He shot me a sly smile. "You're my guinea pig. I'm going to observe and see how the married state treats you." I laughed, and he sent me a sheepish grin. "But speaking of all this...I made mistakes, too. I assumed that everyone approached a given situation the same way I would. I don't know much about your childhood, but what I do know..." He shook his head, shrugging. "Growing up, I lived a privileged and sheltered middle-class life. I shouldn't have assumed. So I am sorry. There. Now snowballs are waltzing through Hades at this very minute."

  I nodded. "Thanks, man. Appreciated."

  He bounced his foot some more, shifted in his seat, then leaned forward to get up. "Well, I'd--"

  "I've got one more thing for you."

  He stopped. "Shoot."

  I laced my fingers together on the desk in front of me. "Will you be my best man?"

  He blinked. "Define 'best.'"

  I laughed. "What about best asshole, then?"

  He nodded. "I can do that."

  "Good. I'd say you've more than earned the slot over my cousin."

  "I'm sure he's glad he's off the hook for the toast." He grinned.

  "Also, I want to thank you for the quest. That was legitimately impressive."

  He laughed and rocked in his chair again. "Ah, the highest form of compliment from the master of quests himself. I am deeply honored." He put his hand over his heart. "I only wrote the storyline. I commandeered Tony in development to implement it for me."

  I shook my head. "Should I sue you for stalking? How'd you know all those details about my and Emilia's relationship?"

  "I was around for most of that stuff at the beginning, and also...girls talk. Mia told April everything. April helped me write it all out and put all the romantic fluff into it."

  "Maybe I should demote you as CFO and put you in charge of creative, then? It's gotta be more interesting than financial reports."

  He glared. "Says you. Financial reports get me hard. Spreadsheets make me--"

  I held up a hand. "TMI."

  "True story." He laughed. "Lucas told me you put him on the spot in play testing when you were digging to find out who was behind the quest. The guy almost shit his pants and was practically hyperventilating when he came to me. I paid the poor bastard a bonus out of my check to make up for it."

  I laughed. "I'll make sure to apologize to him today. Thanks for taking the best man gig. No bachelor party, though."

  "Overruled. But don't worry; there won't be a stripper." I rolled my eyes. "Don't think I haven't figured out what you're up to. Putting me in a tux to stand next to you at the altar? All to give April ideas."

  "This will probably be the first wedding you've attended where you don't bang a bridesmaid."

  He got up from his chair. "I'll be shagging the hottest chick there--aside from the bride, of course. That's my consolation."

  "Better get that diamond ring picked out." I winked. "A wedding is the perfect place to pop the question."

  He made it through the door, but not before flipping me the bird.

  ***

  A couple weeks later, Emilia signed the finalized prenuptial agreement. No commentary. No resentment. No pomp and circumstance. We had witnesses document the occasion for us and certify that there was no coercion on either party's part. We were signing of our own free will and accord.

  When we returned home, she found the document that I'd left for her. It sat in the middle of her desk in an antique-looking envelope, sealed with a red wax seal and ribbon, all official and old-fashioned like.

  Once she noticed it and sank slowly into her desk chair, I made myself scarce. I'd written her name in blue fountain pen on the outside. She'd know immediately it was from me. If not from my writing, then definitely from the fact that no one else called her by her full name.

  A week before, I'd typed out the rough draft.

  I, Adam Drake, hereby give my prenuptial promise to Emilia Kimberly Strong, the woman who will soon be my wife. And that's forever... So the promises I make here are the promises I make for that forever.

  There is no "if" or "when." There is only us.

  Together, we've created a new, unique program. A code that only you and I could write, giving our lives to each other. The test will be when we compile--and set that code to run. And yes, every day will be a trial run. But we can make those a triumph. Every day.

  I went for a walk--since I wasn't cleared to go running yet. The doc had declared my spleen still swollen, though much improved. She wanted to give it another week or so, to err on the side of caution. And Emilia was watching me closely to prevent me cheating. I had privately nicknamed her the Enforcer.

  But the doctor said I'd be fine in time for the wedding. Thank God.

  Any more hurdles getting this woman to the altar and I'd lose my mind. Not long now.

  After hitting the end of the beach this side of the jetty, I turned back toward the house a half-hour later. I caught sight of her running toward me down the paved walkway and bike path that lined Newport Beach. She must have used her phone app to locate me.

  Once she caught up to me, cheeks flushed and out of breath--and more beautiful than ever--she might have tackled me were she not overly concerned for my delicate spleen. I stopped, facing her, and she gazed up at me, all round-eyed. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around me, snuggling close. I returned the hug and kissed the top of her head, overcome with feelings as strong as if I'd been toppled by one of the waves currently pummeling the shore. Love. Pride. Peace. Satisfaction.

  "Wow. I should have waited to give you that next week when I'm cleared for sex," I murmered said into her hair, breaking the sappy sentimentality of the moment. "I think I wasted a great way to get you in the sack."

  She gazed up at me, grinning. "Oh, don't you worry. Nowadays, merely glancing my way would get me in the sack."

  "Good to know. One more week and you aren't going to be able to keep me off you."

  She smoothed her cheek against the fabric of my shirt, her arms gripping me tighter. "I'm counting on it."

  "So I take it you liked the note?"

  She laughed. "You are the reigning king of understatements."

  "I'm an arrogant prick most of the time. I don't know how you put up with me."

  She leaned up and kissed me, but didn't dignify my statement with a reply.

  I hesitated then smoothed a hand down her back. "I want you to know that I'm serious about all of it. About our forever."

  She touched my shaved cheek with her palm. I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling. "Of course, I knew that already. You're always serious about everything, Adam Drake. In fact, some would say you're too serious."

  "But you'd never say that?" I raised a brow.

  She smiled. "I keep you down to earth when you're getting too uppity." She tilted her head, her smile fading only by a small fraction. "It's so weird, but the entire time I was reading that, I kept thinking of the first day I met you."

  The regular weekend crowd had made it to the walking path and were filing around us. I took her hand, and we slowly headed toward the house. "In the game?"

  She shook her head. "No. In person. That day in the hotel conference room."

  I laughed. "That day was an epic miscalculation on my part. I walked in there determined as hell to scare the shit out of you, my one objective." I took a deep breath. "Instead, I entered that room and saw you, and it felt like I'd stepped off a cliff and was free-falling."

  "And I thought I'd been snapped up into a raging storm." A breeze picked up the ends of her hair, and they danced around her shoulders as if they'd been imbued with magic. "Hurricane Adam. That's what I mentally nicknamed you."

  "That storm was the future, smacking us the face. And we w
eren't aware."

  "I keep wondering when I first knew it. Like...knew it without admitting it to myself."

  I could answer to that for myself, but said nothing. Instead, I pulled her hand up to my mouth and kissed it.

  "Maybe it was our first date," she mused.

  I laughed. "What exactly are you calling our first date?"

  "That night in Amsterdam." She winked up at me.

  "Oh, huh. That night. The night I realized I was in a lot of trouble where you were concerned."

  "Really? Tell me more."

  I hesitated, wondering how she'd receive any new information regarding that entire trip, especially that night. The night that started it all. But after these past few weeks and the way she'd taken everything else in stride, could I ever be anything less than completely honest with her?

  Time to find out. "Well...you remember that phone call?

  She took a few steps in silence. I picked up scraps of other conversations around us and the ever-present call of gulls on the beach. "Of course. That phone call is the whole reason that things went on and on between us. If it hadn't been for that call, we would never have-- Well, I mean, I know now that you had no intention of..." Her voice faded out when she saw the expression on my face. "Now you've got me wondering if that was more than a mere random occurrence."

  I crooked a smile. "You know me. I never leave anything to chance. We weren't going to do anything that night. I'd had some safeguards installed."

  "Safeguards?" Her pace slowed as she chewed on that. "Like what?"

  "In the limo on the ride back from the dinner and dancing, I texted Jordan and told him to call me in an hour." I gauged her expression. "And then ordered him to keep calling if I didn't pick up the phone. Just in case."

  "Just in case you went too far?"

  "Yeah."

  She frowned. "So...there was never an ill-timed emergency?"

  "No." A few more steps. "I invented the emergency. Then I logged into the server to run a routine backup."

  We walked on in silence as she continued the pace, continued to hold my hand, but stared down at the pavement in front of us in deep thought.

  "Does that make you mad?" I asked.

  "No. A little confused. You're not really the type of person who needs to invent an excuse to get out of something he doesn't want to do."

  "The phone call wasn't for you. It was for me. And it wasn't about not wanting to do something. It was about wanting it too much." I twitched the hand I was holding, lacing my fingers tightly through hers. "All through dinner, dancing, I realized this might get a little--or a lot--out of my control. I decided to enact a failsafe plan ahead of time."