“You don’t look so good.” Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my face with the same attention to detail she’d used to select her thousand-dollar centerpieces.
I didn’t feel so good either. For the last twenty minutes, the nausea I’d arrived with had been building, like a volcano threatening to erupt. I needed to end this meeting. Fast. Without letting Shelly catch on to just how bad things were getting.
I could pull this wedding off. I had to. The majority of my payment wouldn’t come until after the big day, thanks to the contract structure I’d stupidly agreed to nearly a year ago, whenI was healthier and optimistic. If I didn’t see this through, all the work I’d already done—countless hours of vendor negotiations, design consultations, and meticulous planning—would be practically pro bono.
“I’m great.” I forced a smile, willing my hands not to shake as I shuffled through my portfolio. “Now, about the catering menu. We got that all sorted out. The caterer tried raising concerns about ingredient prices, but between you and me, I think he was fishing for a higher fee.”
Shelly’s perfect brows remained furrowed with concern. The last thing she needed was to worry about her wedding planner dropping the ball. This wasn’t just any wedding; this was a merger of political dynasties, with a guest list that read like a who’s who of Chicago’s elite. I would rather turn into a human icicle than let her down.
“He knows you and James will be bringing in substantial business connections,” I continued, swallowing hard against the rising bile.Oh God. Just get through desserts and dresses, Tessa, and then you can run.“As for the dessert menu, I looked over your vision board and?—”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she interrupted, subtly inching her chair away from me. “But if you’re coming down with something, maybe we should reschedule. I don’t want to get sick.”
“I don’t have the flu,” I assured her, even as guilt gnawed at my insides alongside the nausea.
Maybe this was wrong. Maybe I was being selfish, desperately clinging to this job. This wasn’t just her wedding day; it was a carefully orchestrated social and political event that could make or break careers. It wasn’t her fault that losing this contract would financially destroy me. It wasn’t her fault that I’d turned down three other weddings to focus entirely on hers. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that I was battling some mysteriousillness that came and went like an unwelcome ghost, growing more unpredictable by the day.
“You have a sheen of sweat on your forehead, you look pale, and there are dark circles under your eyes.” Her tone was gentle but firm.
Fantastic. Apparently, the extra-coverage foundation I’d carefully applied this morning wasn’t doing its job. I pressed my trembling hands flat against the cool metal table, anchoring myself as my stomach swirled.
The truth was, my symptoms were like a cruel game of Russian roulette. I never knew when they’d strike or how bad they’d be. If I admitted I wasn’t healthy enough for this commitment, it meant I wasn’t healthy enough foranyjob. And if I couldn’t work …
No. I refused to watch my carefully built business crumble while doctors scratched their heads.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, my voice steadier than I felt. “Now?—”
“Look.” She crossed her arms, her diamond engagement ring catching the sunlight. “You canceled our last appointment without explanation, and now this …”
My heart thundered against my ribs. I could see the doubt blooming in her eyes like the roses surrounding us, threatening to destroy everything I’d worked for.
“That was a personal emergency,” I said softly, omitting the part about being in the hospital with my heart deciding to take an impromptu vacation.
I hadn’t even told my brother about that particular incident; I certainly wasn’t going to share it with a client who was already questioning my reliability.
I could do this job. Most of it could be handled remotely. Hell, I could coordinate with vendors from my bed if necessary. Blake was running tests, and I trusted we’d find a way to at least manage my symptoms. I had to believe that.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, even as bile inched up my throat. “If I’m being honest, that emergency cost me some sleep. But I promise you have my complete attention.”
My eyes darted to the restroom pavilion across the garden. Sixty feet. Just sixty feet away. The nausea was cresting, but I just had to hold on for?—
“I’ve already renegotiated with the caterer to add the dessert bar for free after his pricing stunt. The bridesmaid dresses will be ready two weeks early, we’re getting six dozen bonus roses at no charge, and your gown alterations are right on schedule.”
Shelly’s expression softened slightly, a cautious smile tugging at her lips. “If you’re sure …”
“I’m more than sure.” I beamed, trying to casually gather my materials as my stomach turned into a hurricane. “This is the most exciting wedding I’ve ever planned, and it’s going to be absolutely spectacular.” I made a show of checking my watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet with the venue’s billing office. Would you like to join me?”
As expected, Shelly wrinkled her nose at the mention of administrative tasks. The moment she declined, I made my goodbyes, promising updates and striding toward the restroom pavilion with all the casual grace I could muster.
Inside the mercifully empty bathroom, I barely made it to the first stall before my body betrayed me again. As I knelt on the cold tile floor, retching until there was nothing left, something inside me finally shattered. Months of holding it together. Months of doctors staring at test results, telling me nothing was wrong. Months of needles and scans and bills leading to dead ends, all while my body aged decades in minutes.
While I burned and ached and forgot what it felt like to be normal.
I couldn’t take this anymore.
The first sob caught me off guard. The tears came hot and fast, streaking mascara down my cheeks as weeks of carefully maintained composure crumbled. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile wall, shoulders shaking with the weight of everything I’d been trying so desperately to outrun.
God, I was so tired. Tired of my body becoming a minefield of symptoms I couldn’t predict. Tired of waking up each morning, wondering if today would be the day it all fell apart. Tired of smiling through meetings while my insides revolted. But most of all, I was tired of being afraid. Afraid of what was stealing my life piece by piece, afraid of losing everything I had left, afraid of the question that stalked my sleepless nights.
