Page 30 of The Merger

“I only received the invitation this week, Thomas.”

“People are usually excited to receive an invitation and get back with us quickly.”

I hum, leaving the plant behind and entering the kitchen.

“Do you think you can make a decision by the end of next week and let us know?” he asks. “We’re unfortunately running on a tight schedule.”

“Oh, is that why I got an invitation a couple of weeks before the event?” I grin, imagining Thomas squirming. I lift my glass. “It seems like I was your last choice.”

“Truthfully, we did ask two people before you, but only because we knew getting you to accept would be nearly impossible.”

“Yet you still asked.”

He sighs. “You were our number one choice, Gannon. You have been for years. But, like I said, you send a check every year to support Waltham but fail to show up to any of our banquets or functions. Tatum said there was no way you’d show up, and we figure she knows you better than any of us.”

My glass smacks the counter, the sound ricocheting through the kitchen. “Tatum said I wouldn’t come?”

“That’s right. She’s on the board this year, too.”

I pace the kitchen as my ex’s name rattles around my brain. I haven’t heard or spoken her name in a decade. My shoulders are heavy with the awkwardness of having her in the conversation.

Yet as I taste her name on my tongue—a name that meant so much to me for so long—the stress in my body fades. Not because it’s familiar.Because I don’t care. It’s been so long since I thought about her, let alone talked about her, that it’s a relief not to feel … anything.

Not about her, anyway.

“If I haven’t heard from you by the end of next week, I’ll give you a call,” Thomas says. “If you don’t answer, I’ll assume that’s a no, and we’ll move on. Fair?”

“Yes, that works.”

“Great. I’ll talk to you soon, Gannon.”

I end the call before he can offer his goodbyes. No need to stick around and let him think we’re friends. That’ll keep him from calling again … I hope.

My mind starts to wander back in time but stops. I take a deep breath and exhale it, waiting to see if I have an internal reaction to Thomas’s conversation—to see if I want to think about her.About the past.

But I don’t.

That life was a lifetime ago, it seems. That Gannon Brewer was a different person.

My phone vibrates in my palm, jolting me from the fog. This time, I know the name on the screen. I’m slightly more interested in answering it than I was for Thomas.

“Hey,” I say, downing the rest of my water.

“Someone else is going to the next charity event.” Tate groans. “You don’t know how tired I am of pretending to care about other people’s lives and kids. I want to be home, caring about my life and Arlo if I need to care about a kid.”

I chuckle. “I take it that Portland is going well?”

“Fuck you, Gannon.”

My chuckle flows into a laugh.

Finally, he laughs, too. “What’s going on back there?”

“Did you call for anything in particular, or are you wanting to chitchat and got my name mixed up with Ripley’s?”

“Do you always have to be a dickhead?”

I grin. “I do. I was born this way.”