“Yes, given that you orchestrated it, I’m sure you’re devastated,” I say.
“?‘Orchestrated’ seems… extreme. I was simply aiming for transparency.”
“Achieved,” I grumble.
He smiles. “A few board members have indicated they’ll advocate for me to take over the BioVIVE project for the time being. The goal is to use it to heal, not… resurrect.”
I cluck my tongue. “As long as you don’t interfere with Compound Y.”
His smile vanishes. “I assure you I have no interest in your little science project. The quicker they shut that down, the better it is for everyone. It’s beyond unethical.”
I stare at him for a beat, hoping he sees it in my eyes:You’re a petty, jealous slimeball.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Vince,” Annie tells him. “It’s beyond yourlevel of security clearance anyway.” Another butthole pucker. Seeing it pass across his face really does lift the spirits. Annie, always a hero.
Finally, I push myself to standing. “I need to get home. I’m wiped.”
With one last inky sneer, Vince slithers off. Annie and I look at each other in dismay. “Holy shit,” she breathes.
“I don’t think he heard me say we’d move the compound, right?”
“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t let that go unmentioned.” Annie gnaws her lip. “Em, I don’t like this. I agree we need to do something, but Icannotkeep it at the clinic. It’s not safe. And it’s not like you can keep it at home, either.” I open my mouth to protest and she holds up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “You’re already going to be under greater scrutiny because, to the board, it looks like you’ve gone off and become Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s not confirm it for them.”
I mutter a petulant “Fine,” but inside I’m already plotting. We might not agree on where it can go, but Compound Y is coming with me. There’s no way I’m leaving it where Vince has access.
“I have a few things to finish up,” she says, moving to sit on the edge of my desk. “But I’ll think on a plan while you’re at dinner tonight.”
I frown in confusion. “Tonight?”
“Yeah, isn’t it—?”
It hits me like a hammer and I quickly check my watch.“Shit!”
From the presentation, to the closed-door meetings with the board, to the tongue-lashing Leonard and I received, the entire day just disappeared. By the time I grab the compound, get through the building, to my car, through rush hour traffic and home, I’m going to be very late to my own anniversary dinner.
5LUCA
That’s right. I’m still here.
Did you forget, too?
Listen, don’t worry about it. I’m rarely surprised by my wife’s workaholic tendencies, in part because she’s always been this way.
Emery was already working at SurgOptix when we met at a friend’s wedding just over three years ago. I crossed a crowded room to introduce myself to the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and our chemistry was instant. The world disappeared around me, my brain wiped of every rational thought. I wanted to be near her; nothing else mattered. Emery was immediately fascinating: quiet and intense, sexy and witty, driven and unlike anyone I’d ever dated before. I was down bad.
She was Emery Finch back then, but she wouldn’t keep that name for long. We had sex that first night—blisteringly hot, wild sex—and were together nearly every night after. I’d never experienced anything like it; I couldn’t get enough. It felt like I’d found my other half.
I’m sure everyone thought we were just going through some kind of impulsive, infatuated phase but something about us just fit. We were married only a couple months later.
And while that initial chemistry never faded, I quickly learned that Emery wasn’t just obsessed with her job. Her work-life balance was virtually nonexistent.
Emery’s always been utterly consumed by science. I remember one of our first dates, sitting across from her at a tiny wine bar while she frantically wrote down a series of calculations on the back of a receipt.I’d never met someone who could make physics sound like foreplay. Back then, it felt thrilling, intoxicating. Now, three years in, I’m starting to realize that brilliance doesn’t switch off. Not for anniversaries. Not for me.
I’m used to keeping a plate warm for her in the oven, spending my evenings working on projects while she’s still at work, usually well after dark, and even going to bed alone some nights. But tonight, when seven o’clock, seven thirty, and finally eight o’clock rolls around and I have to call the restaurant for the third time in two hours to ultimately cancel our reservation, I admit to myself that Emery’s lateness this time isn’t just inconvenient, it’s deeply shitty.
Worse, I know she probably doesn’t even realize how late she is, because she hasn’t texted in a panic to let me know she’s on her way home. I occasionally agree when my best friend and business partner audibly wonders what on earth could be so fucking fascinating about surgical lasers, but I never question Emery’s dedication. It’s one of the things I find most attractive about her: not only is she brilliant and stunning, she’s ambitious.
But, goddamn, I’ve given her so many chances to be more present. I’m tired of being alone all the time.
