A Better Forever: a Marriage in Crisis Romance (Book 5 of Lawson Family series)

A sudden desire to hear his wife’s voice had Connor pulling out his phone.

He got voicemail. “This is Melina. Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Hey, honey,” he said. “Long day in meetings. I just finished having dinner with Ben and Carly. I guess he’s going back out on tour. Anyway, just wanted to touch base. Say hi to the kids for me. Love you.”

He ended the call and stepped into the Hyatt lobby’s faintly floral scent. The hum of conversation spilled out from the hotel bar and his eyes slid that way. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, and a drink seemed safer than an empty hotel room.

He headed for the bar and was surprised to see his boss, Jorgen Peterson, perched on one of the stools.

Jorgen turned, eyes bright with alcohol. “Connor! Have a seat! Let me buy you a drink. You’re a Jameson’s guy, right?”

Connor nodded.

Jorgen signaled to the bartender. “Make it two.”

Connor took the stool next to Jorgen. His Jameson appeared in front of him and he took a sip, the burn of the whiskey familiar and grounding.

“Ahh,” Jorgen said, savoring his own glass. “You have good taste.” His words slurred just enough to make Connor wonder how many he’d had. “Did you find the forty thou?”

Four hundred thousand, actually. But Connor didn’t correct him. “Not yet. But I will.”

“I know you will,” Jorgen said, and the words put a small swell in Connor’s chest. This was why he put up with the stress—that and the 350 employees who relied on him and the other executives for their paychecks.

Jorgen stared up at the TV in the corner. “Something’s on my mind, Connor. Something I shouldn’t be telling you.”

Then don’t.

But Connor didn’t say it.

Jorgen’s gaze slid from the TV to Connor. “Mesabi Fabricators is being acquired.”

Connor almost laughed—until he saw the other man’s expression. “By who?”

“United Steel out of Seattle.”

Connor made a mental note to look up United Steel ASAP. “When?”

“By fall,” Jorgen said. “Maybe sooner.”

Connor glanced through the glass partition between the bar and the hotel lobby. “You make it sound like it’s a done deal.”

“It is.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Connor said. “We’ve always been profitable.”

“The board’s got stock options and an offer they can’t refuse. Not much we can do about it. Unless…”

Connor didn’t like the sound of that. “Unless what?”

“Unless the financial picture was… different,” Jorgen said.

Connor blinked, a slow chill threading through his chest.

“Numbers are manipulated all the time,” Jorgen said. “You know that better than anyone. You’re one of the best. I should know—I backed your promotion to CFO.”

The chill spread to Connor’s limbs. This wasn’t their usual back-and-forth.

“I’m fifty-five years old,” Jorgen said. “What am I gonna do when they can me?”

“They won’t.”

“Yeah, they will,” Jorgen said, his expression grim. “And you, too. And a whole lot of other people when they move part of the operations to Seattle.”

“They wouldn’t.”

“They’ll say they won’t,” Jorgen said darkly. “But they will. It’s just a matter of time.”

Connor’s mind boggled at the ripple effect an acquisition like this could have. How many families on the Iron Range would lose their livelihoods?

But crossing that legal line? Not happening.

Connor tossed back the rest of his drink. “I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened.” He set his empty glass down with a solid thunk. “I suggest you do the same.”

He headed toward the elevators, but he’d only gone a few steps when another craving whispered in his ear—warm, insistent, wrapping tendrils around his ribs. His palms dampened inside his pockets.

He changed direction.

Minutes later, a dozen blocks from the Hyatt, neon light spilled across the sidewalk. The sign above the door blinked like a heartbeat in the dark.

Connor paused, fighting the internal battle he’d fought so many times before. He loved his wife. He loved his kids.

And still, his feet carried him toward the door.