Page 2 of The Probability of Us

The first few years were a grind. We not only had to convince people that we could do it better and achieve better savings—but then had to prove it. It started as just a small team cranking out these designs and reporting, but as we met and surpassed our goals, more companies wanted to hire our services, or join our existing programs. We quickly became known as the best value-based care consulting company, and we grew like crazy. I take so much pride in what we created—it’s beyond what either of us imagined and I’m worried this deal could change that.

“See, I knew it—started with a V,” Sterling says, turning to beam at Will who pats his hand and kisses his cheek. Sterling met Will two years ago when we were bar hopping because The Dizzy Acorn was closed. They got engaged earlier this year and are planning a November wedding.

“Brilliant as always, my love,” Will says, but rolls his eyes at me when Sterling’s not looking. I start to laugh but cover it with a cough when Sterling looks over. He narrows his eyes and glances between us.

I clear my throat and keep talking before either of us gets in trouble. “But no, I haven’t learned anything new about them.” Even though a meeting about the merger is what made me late today. “Their executives are coming down for the next two weeks to help facilitate the transition, and since we don’t have a C-suite of executives, Clara pulled me in to help show their CFO around while they’re here.”

“Is he at least cute?” Ali asks, brows raising, and I laugh.

“The only thing I know is his name is Mitch.”

Trent returns with more beers and we each grab ours. We’ve been doing this long enough to know what everyone’s favorite is. Blue Moon for me, Stella Artois for Ali, Guinness for Will, and Sterling and Trent are still making their way through the ever-changing list of IPAs.

“That has potential.” She raises her beer toward me before taking a sip and I shake my head with a laugh before sipping my own.

“What’s new with you guys?” I ask, directing the attention away from me. Talking about this deal sours my mood.

I listen to everyone’s updates with a smile on my face, trying to avoid thinking about work, but without much luck. Sterling and Trent still work in the same actuarial department where we all met, but Ali switched over to finance after a few years. She switched before she and Trentfinallygot together, and it’s good she did because Triniti is extremely strict about dating within the department. I learned that the hard way . . .

It’s not until Sterling says, “Rob got fired,” that I completely forget about everything else. The words are so unexpected that I almost spit out my drink and end up in a coughing fit when it goes down the wrong pipe.

Everyone watches me with worry, but my eyes are still wide with shock, and as soon as I can speak again, I say, “No fucking way.” It comes out scratchy and hoarse and makes me cough all over again.

Trent nods, affirming the story and a smile grows on my face. With how many bullets Rob has dodged over his career, I’m surprised Triniti finally gave him the boot.

It’s about time.

“What’d he do this time? Try to take credit for a man’s work?” I snort, mostly joking.

But when I look between Trent and Sterling, who have both pressed their lips together, I realize it’s not a joke at all. My mouth pops open when Trent finally says, “Basically, yeah.”

Some of my smugness is gone, replaced with anger. “Right. Because when he did it to me, he just got moved to a different project and ended up getting promoted a few months later. But God forbid he steals aman’sideas.That’scompletely unacceptable.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sterling says, “everyone who’s been here since it happened to you said the same thing.”

Trent nods again and I do my best not to think about the man who stood up for me eight years ago when it happened. But after seeing the trivia board earlier, he’s already fresh in my mind.

“It turns out the analyst whose ideas he stole is the nephew of the CEO, and that’s the only reason he actually got fired for it,” Trent adds, as Ali and I both say, “What?!” and Will leans back and sips his drink like he’s watching a soap opera.

“I haven’t heard that part,” Ali says, wide-eyed.

“Rumors about it have been going around all day,” Sterling says. “But it didn’t get confirmed until we were heading out.”

“What goes around, comes around,” I mumble, and at that Ali raises her bottle.

“To that piece of shit finally getting what he deserves,” she says, and we all clink glasses and laugh.

The music abruptly stops—somehow making it seem louder in here—the chatter bouncing around the room, signaling that the DJ is about to start. The entire crowd gets quieter in response, but when his set begins, my earlier assumption proves to be right. The music is not good, at all, making us all groan in response.

* * *

It’s late enough that the bar is clearing out and the DJ is tearing down his set-up. The bar’s usual playlist is blasting through the speakers again and we’re all relieved to hear the mainstream pop music.

That may have been the worst set we’ve ever heard, and we’ve sat through someroughsets. It was so bad we considered leaving halfway through, but this is our spot, so instead, we turned it into a drinking game where we’d drink whenever it somehow got worse.

I haven’t drank this much in along time.

I’m talking to Sterling and Will, slightly slurring my words, when the next song starts playing over the speakers. With more people starting to leave the bar for the night, it’s one of the first songs we can hear clearly.

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