The Saint's Wife by Lauren Gallagher Read Free Book Online Page B

he was panicking over nothing. It wasn’t like he’d have the reins of Berserker Tech overnight. The transfer would be gradual.
    And part of him knew that was bullshit. Especially as Chris stepped into the backstage area, his posture straight but his gaunt face alarmingly pale.
    There wouldn’t be a gradual transfer of power and responsibilities.
    Because there wouldn’t be time for that.
    They could plan all they wanted, but in the end—and that was what it was, wasn’t it? an ending no one wanted—the company would abruptly land in David’s lap. He just hoped like hell he was ready. Well, no. He knew he wouldn’t be ready. Not to run the company while coping with his best friend’s death. But he did hope he could manage it without fucking something up.
    Chris’s voice caught his attention, and he turned around. The man was talking to some of the audio-visual guys, probably making sure the microphones and lighting were perfect. No doubt reminding them to light him so he didn’t look as sick as he really was, even if that made David and Joanna look flushed by comparison.
    And speaking of Joanna, there she was. Hand clasped in Chris’s, eyes down. When David had arrived at the cabin to coax her home just forty-eight hours ago, she’d been dressed down with her hair in a messy ponytail. Today, she was the way he was used to seeing her—a pantsuit that was less “professional woman” and more “ready to be the First Lady”. She never seemed comfortable when she was dressed like that. It was well-tailored, and while it certainly didn’t fit loosely, it didn’t seem to constrict her either. Yet she always looked like she could barely breathe—shoulders set back and tight, her spine rigid. When she smiled, it looked genuine on her lips, but her eyes were…distant.
    He wanted to ask if she was doing all right, but he doubted the question would be welcome. She probably hadn’t yet forgiven him for convincing her to come home. He was glad she was there, though. Whether she knew it or not, just having her back had livened Chris up quite a bit. Maybe even added some time to his life—he’d been so depressed and angry over her leaving, the doctors and David had been concerned it would just accelerate the inevitable.
    But he was happier now. With any luck, that meant he’d be healthier too. As healthy as could be expected these days, anyway, considering what he was here to announce.
    As David, Chris and Joanna stepped out onto the stage, Joanna didn’t so much as look at him. That wasn’t unusual—they’d never gotten along, and apparently that wasn’t going to change. Fine by him.
    They took their seats, and the reporters settled.
    Chris pulled the microphone closer to him. He introduced David and Joanna and thanked everyone for coming. He sounded great—this auditorium and its acoustics had pretty much been designed with his voice in mind. The people in the back row would be able to hear him loud and clear, as if he were sitting right next to them and speaking normally.
    And he sure didn’t sound like someone who was about to announce that he was dying. That he had tumors forming in his lungs. David could hear it, though. The difference was subtle, but it was there. Chris had carefully written his comments so he could keep his sentences short. That way he could pause frequently and not run out of air before he’d finished speaking. To someone who hadn’t spoken to Chris nearly every day of his life for the past thirty-plus years, the man sounded fine.
    But David couldn’t ignore it, and his heart sank as Chris went on. This was real, wasn’t it?
    Chris paused for a long moment. He glanced at David, and David gave him the reassuring nod he knew his friend was looking for.
    Facing the crowd again, Chris went on. “As many people are aware, I was treated for cancer a few years ago.” He paused, grimacing as if the C-word, as he called it, tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’ve recently been informed