“No,” he said. “Push the meeting. Let Daniel handle the merger update. I don’t care if London is unhappy. They can survive disappointment for forty-eight hours.”
He listened, then said, “I said I’m unavailable.” A beat. “Because my wife is in the hospital.” Another beat. His mouth hardened. “Then explain it better.”
He ended the call and turned. When he saw her awake, something in his shoulders eased.
“You make that sound convincing,” Maya murmured.
He came over and set the coffee down. “Because it is.”
She pushed herself up slightly. “You’re canceling work?”
“I’m rearranging it.”
“For me.”
“For us,” he said, like the correction should have been obvious.
Dr. Lee returned with test results just after nine. The improvement in Maya’s numbers overnight was encouraging. The damage was real, she said, but not irreversible. It was the sort of phrase doctors offered when they wanted to hand you truth and hope in equal proportion.
