Page 74 of The Beat Match

“We have ten days,” he told Duncan. “Ten days until this wraps up. We can’t lose more employees before then, especially on the Alzheimer’s studies.”

Duncan sipped the last of his espresso. “I sent a memo, asked everyone to change their passwords, just in case. I’ve had our firewall reinforced, even though it’s already Fort Knox. I’ve been sniffing around, asking random staff how things are, sussing out if anything feels off. All seems clear.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Short of asking if someone’s offering people cash to jump ship or if they’re being blackmailed, there’s not much else we can do.”

“We can’t give Karim more reasons to question our stability.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Pretty sure your father will fire me if we lose this merger.”

“You and me both,” Weston said under his breath.

Duncan signaled their waiter for the check. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” He winked at a woman at the adjacent table.

Wes smirked. “Do you ever quit trolling for women?”

“Do you ever answer personal questions?”

Annie often accused him of the same. Weston was adept at evading thorny topics. It was a cultivated skill. He may have told her about DLP’s ominous behavior, but he hadn’t been honest about his father’s threatening phone call. I will never acknowledge her as a member of this family. Leave Anthea or you’re out of the will.

His father could burn that piece of paper for all Weston cared. Weston wasn’t a dependent. He earned his living through hard work, and the status of excessive wealth didn’t drive him. Accomplishments drove him. Sure, he loved art and architecture and the finer things in life, but the past weeks with Annie had taught him he loved her tiny, messy apartment as much as his elegant loft. He’d take a night with her over a collection of modernist paintings.

That conversation with his father had been disturbing, but for different reasons: it had been a reminder that losing the person you love could ruin you.

When Weston had been upset his father had missed a debate tournament or forgotten a soccer game, his mother would kiss the crown of his head and say, “Your father is a passionate man. He loves you more than you know. More than anyone in this world. He works so hard to provide for you.”

She had been right in some respects, but love for his son hadn’t driven the man. It had been love for his wife. Singular love for this one, irreplaceable person. Once she’d died, birthdays had been blown off, holidays erased, staff fired while Weston tried to dodge the man’s cruel wrath. His father’s limited warmth and humanity had burned to ash, all because he’d lost the love of his life.

Exactly how Weston felt about Annie. She was that love: unparalleled. Irreplaceable. He hadn’t been able to open up with a woman before her, because there had been no before her. She was the one person who calmed him, made him laugh, reminded him there was life outside of work. He loved her more than he’d ever imagined possible. If he lost her, it seemed inevitable he’d end up as cold and vicious as his father, and it was infecting his mind.

Nightmares had woken him most nights since that call.

Annie running and laughing, then tripping and falling off the side of a cliff.

Annie slammed through the windshield of a car.

Annie stabbed by a mugger.

He’d wake each time, sweating, terror gripping his lungs, and she’d just be there, next to him, sleeping deeply. He was spiraling, struggling to get back to where he’d been, trusting in a future where control was out of his grasp and the fear of losing her was less potent. He’d been unacceptably distant with her at times, had nearly asked her for space to see if the nightmares would lessen. But he’d promised her he wouldn’t panic and push her away.

“Personal is hard for me,” he told Duncan, a delayed reply to his jibe: Do you ever answer personal questions? His therapist used to harp on that, too. Tell him talking was healing.

“I get it, but you’ve been looking rough for months now, and worse lately. If you won’t talk to me, I hope you at least talk to Annie.”

He hated hearing Duncan mention her name. Despised that they’d ever dated, even once casually. But Weston’s perfectly tailored suit felt too tight, the laces of his shoes pinching his feet. “I’m in love with her,” he forced out. If talking was healing, maybe this would help. Even with Duncan.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Duncan pushed his empty espresso cup to the side. “Not that I’m surprised. It’s been nice getting to know her, and I was happy when she told me you two hooked up. She’s beautiful and funny, and she’s the only woman you’ve ever dated this long.”

“I have issues in the commitment department. But I doubt anyone else would have lasted the test of time. Annie is…everything.” Irreplaceable.

“So why do you look like you’ve lost her?”

“Because I could.”