Eugene's POV
The international signing was a massive success, the kind of multi-million-dollar deal that should have had me ordering a round of the most expensive scotch in the city for the board members. Instead, I spent the entire meeting staring at the digital clock in the corner of my tablet, my thumb hovering over my messaging app under the edge of the mahogany table.
Every sixty minutes, on the dot, I sent her a text.
How are you feeling? at ten.
Did you manage to keep any fluids down? at eleven.
Do I need to leave early? at noon.
Her replies came in slow, delayed waves. Still really tired, but my stomach has settled a bit. Don't leave your meeting, Eugene. I’m okay.
It didn’t do a damn thing to stop the knot from tightening in my gut. I stayed for the absolute bare minimum o
