I stomp over to the fax machine as it whirs to life. Who still sends faxes? Why do we still have a fax machine? Those are questions I won’t be answering today. Other questions I can’t answer include why I am looking at a fax from the hotel threatening to cancel the entire thing because we never sent the last payment. “Evan,” I call. He sticks his head out of the office where he has been hiding. “Why does the hotel think we didn’t send the final payment? I double-checked with you about that on Monday.”
He gets a sheepish look on his face as he sucks a breath through his cheeks. “Oh shit. I had it all ready to go and got a call. I must’ve forgotten to hit the button.”
I take a few deep breaths, hoping they can bring my blood pressure down. My heart beats so forcefully I can hear it. At this rate, I won’t need to worry about the fundraiser because I’ll have a stroke before tomorrow night. “Get on the phone and fix it.” I shove the sheet of paper toward him, and he grabs it and disappears into his office.
I look around the room, and everyone pretends they aren’t listening to the entire exchange. Guess I’ll be the topic of office gossip for a few weeks. My stomach growls loudly, and I place a hand on it, willing it to quiet down. Maybe I should listen when Colt tells me that a cup of coffee doesn’t count as breakfast. In my defense, it’s never one cup of coffee. It’s more like four or five. Either way, it isn’t helping with the growing anxiety over the gala.
The morning continues this way until it starts to spill into the afternoon. I’ve finally gotten a chance to sit back down at mydesk for a few minutes and try to catch up on some of my emails. They’re mainly from the various site directors checking in and saying they’re looking forward to the event on Saturday. We always ensure they attend to talk about the importance of their work to the donors. Sure, I can talk about it all day, but they have first-hand stories of seeing the kids that tug at the heartstrings and, if lucky, the purse strings.
“Hey, Nathan?” Victoria’s soft voice breaks through my concentration.
“Yeah,” I respond, a little too gruffly.
“Could you come look at something?” My head snaps up to look at her. “I swear it’s nothing bad,” she adds quickly. “Some seating arrangements look off, and I can’t figure out why.” Why is it that when someone says it’s nothing bad, it always is?
I nod my agreement. At this point, nothing out of my mouth will be agreeable. I need to talk to someone about that because it isn’t typical of me. I shouldn’t be this grumpy, especially when my personal life is going well. Colt’s been on me the last couple of weeks to relax. Maybe I can talk him into taking a vacation together. Somewhere warm so I can see him in a swimsuit.
I follow Victoria to her desk and stare over her shoulder at a map of tables with little name flags attached to each spot. It only takes me a second to work out what the issue is. “Victoria, is this the most recent layout from the hotel?”
“Um... I thought so?”
My heart drops into my stomach as I realize this is my fault. I used the layout I got from the hotel when I met with the florists and the caterers but never shared it with the rest of the team. Panic sets in, and my body responds with a tingling sensation that spreads through my limbs. Taking deep breaths, I try to calm down, but my chest constricts, making breathing difficult. “We made a few changes from the original layout,” I manage to say, my hand moving in small circles over my tight chest toalleviate some of the tension. Struggling to steady myself against the desk, I reach out with my other hand. My vision begins to blur, and black spots threaten to take over as Victoria calls my name. She seems so far away, even though I know she’s in the room with me. “The updated version is on the company drive,” I try to explain, but my words are cut off as dizziness takes over and everything fades into darkness.
I tryto open my eyes, but they refuse to obey. It’s so noisy. I need everyone to be quiet so I can go back to sleep.
“He’s over here,” someone yells.
Seriously, I would give anything for silence right now. My head is warm, and everything’s a little fuzzy.
“Can you tell me his name?” A voice I don’t recognize asks from right next to my ear.
“Nathan Winslow.” Victoria—I would recognize her voice anywhere—says. Her voice is shaky and far less shrill than usual.
“Hey, Nathan, can you open your eyes for me?”
I groan but try to open my eyes for the voice. They flutter open, but the light is too much, so I shut them again.
“That’s good. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I… I don’t...” I can’t find the end of the sentence.
“That’s okay. We’re going to get you to the hospital, and we’ll figure things out, okay? They’ll get you stitched up, too.”
Stitched up? My eyes open, and my hand immediately reaches up, searching for a wound. Now that he mentions it, my head is throbbing. A firm grasp pulls my hand back to my side. “Nope, keep your hands down. It’s not a big cut, but you’ll need a couple of stitches on the back of your head.”
I want to argue with him but can’t find the energy. Instead, I close my eyes and drift away.
COLT
The phonein my office rings with a number I don’t recognize. “Hello, this is Colt. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Mr. Addington. I’m calling from the emergency department. We have a Mr. Nathan Winslow here, and he asked us to call you.” What’s Nathan doing here? And in the emergency department? Strange, but finding your way through the hospital is a challenge.
“Sure, can you tell him I’ll meet him in the lobby in five minutes?” My throat tightens. Something’s wrong if he’s here in the middle of a workday. Especially when they’re doing last-minute planning for tomorrow’s gala.
“Oh, I think you misunderstood. Mr. Winslow is here as a patient.” A knot forms in my stomach.
“Is he okay?” I manage to gasp out.
