Page 2 of Just The Way You Aren't

I frown. “You know I like to know these things at least a week in advance.”

“That’s a ‘no’ from Mr. I-Can’t-Do-Anything-That’s-Not-In-The-Itinerary,” Finn says.

Alec scowls. “But I remember a week ago you said you couldn’t make it Wednesday, but might be able to Tuesday. I managed to clear my schedule…”

I hold up my hand. “Tuesday is tomorrow. I can’t possibly do it now.”

“No advance notice, no Damien.” Brad smirks.

Alec rolls his eyes. “You know I made the arrangements specifically so you could come.”

I frown, growing irritated at the pressure to upset my entire week just for a golf game. “You should have cleared this with me a week ago. I’m sorry, but I can’t make it work.”

“Fine.” Alec picks up his cards and glares mutinously at them.

It irks me to see him so pissed off. I had given him plenty of advanced warning about my schedule, after all. And everyone at this table knows I don’t change my schedule for anything. Hell, with the big fish we’ve just landed at Langley Enterprises, it’s enough for me to be devoting any time at all to these knuckleheads I consider my closest friends. But we have a weekly standing poker game, and it’s in the schedule. And that makes it more sacred than a High Holy Day.

“Hey, crankypants, it’s your turn,” Finn says, interrupting my brooding.

I don’t like having a good sulk interrupted, either. I look down at my cards, then at the cards lying on the table. “Bet,” I say, tossing a few thousand dollars’ worth of chips into the middle. I already have two pair. With any luck, I might get a full house.

“Call.” Gabe tosses in his chips.

“Has anyone heard from Mason lately?” Alec asks.

"Raise." Wyatt adds more chips to the pot, his expression carefully neutral. "And yes, actually. Got an annoyingly cheerful postcard from him yesterday. All about how amazing island life is and how we should all come visit."

Brad snorts into his scotch. "Visit? Who has time for that?"

"According to an email I got the other day from Mason," Alec says, studying his cards, "we all work too hard and need to 'find balance.'" He makes air quotes with his fingers, nearly dropping his cards in the process.

I arrange my chips while weighing whether to call Wyatt's bet. "Balance is overrated. The Machine used to understand that."

"The Machine is officially retired," Gabe remarks quietly. “He made that pretty clear.”

I grimace. "Mason Steele, the man who made billions in mergers and acquisitions, is now spending his days watching sunsets and drinking rum punch."

Alec shakes his head, folding his cards. "At least he's consistent. When Mason commits to something, he goes all in."

"Out," Brad declares, tossing his cards down. "And speaking of out, that's what Mason is. Out of his mind."

"Remember how he looked at Lucy that night?” Finn asks. “Like she hung the moon and stars."

"I remember him drooling like a Saint Bernard," I mutter, finally deciding to call. "Two pair."

"Three of a kind," Wyatt counters with a grin.

I push back from my cards in disgust. "The man sold his penthouse to live in a beach hut. A beach hut! What's next? Is he going to start wearing hemp clothing and teaching yoga?"

"According to the postcard," Wyatt says, collecting his winnings, "he's learning to surf."

I snort. “A thousand bucks says he’ll be back to the city a single man before the year is out.”

“Such a cynic,” Finn says, but his expression indicates he agrees with me.

Brad shakes his head soberly. “Did you see his face when he brought Lucy around to meet us after they eloped? He’s deliriously happy. That man is a goner, and he’s never coming back.”

Alec nods. “I’m not willing to take that bet either. The Machine is out of commission for good.”

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