Page 148 of Double or Nothing

But today, for once in my life, my work is as complete as it can be. So what if my presentations aren’t lined up with microdot accuracy?

I’m ahead of schedule, and there’s one clear reason for it.

I want to be.

What a pitiful realisation to uncover, sitting at the desk I’ve dedicated my life to earning a place at.

I’ve been hiding behind a mountain of work urgency for years. Immovable and concrete. More important than life itself, because it has been life itself, but my overload is an illusion created by my own mind.

I can only imagine the spears in Sylvia’s self-righteous eyes if she heard me admit it.

I pack up my laptop at half six. Half six! My case is in my hand when a shadow appears in my doorway.

“Heading off?”

Oh, fuck. Bill is standing there, one hand in his trouser pocket. Suit still immaculate.

His expression is mild. Almost warm. Almost.

But I know him better than that.

My body responds on instinct. Shoulders straight. Smile on. Mr Reliable back in place.

“Just about to, yes.”

“I’ve barely seen you this week, not outside of the boardroom.”

Shit. Every ounce of lightness vanishes from me. I should have made more effort to keep up appearances.

“I’ve been hard at it behind the scenes,” I say. “The revised Nexton figures are ready for Monday, and I’ve circulated the assessment notes.”

“Excellent. Good work, Bryce. Good work.”

The adolescent part of me still wants to bask in his approval, but the glow feels harder to find.

With that, my powerhouse of a boss steps into my office and closes the door.

“Before you go, I just want to give you a reminder.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“Of course. A reminder about what?”

His eyes are so solid they’re like bulldozers.

“Christopher lands nine days from now. He’ll be arriving at Gatwick a week on Sunday.”

The words drop through me.

Nine days.

Not weeks anymore. Not some distant arrival from Chicago that might evaporate if nobody speaks about it.

“Fantastic.”

I couldn’t be more plastic sounding if I tried.

“Trevor and Susan are organising a welcome home dinner,” Bill says. “It’ll be at our place, under the lawn marquee. Nothing too grand. Family and close associates.”