Page 46

“What?” he asks. “I’m just wondering how you can look so bad when I know you spent yet another night in, watching Jane Austen movies and dreaming about marriage.”

I lean back against the counter, scraping my hair off my face and re-gathering my ponytail. I’m going to be a disaster by eleven AM when the guests arrive. “So that’s what you think I do?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I picture you at home vigorously masturbating.”

I pretend to gag, and today I’m not entirely faking it. I wonder if it was the deli sushi I grabbed on the way home last night. I knew I should have stuck with ramen. It might not be the healthiest food, but pre-packaged ramen never gave anyone food poisoning.

It’s cool in the house but I’m already sweating and the smell of Hayes’s coffee is making my stomach churn. I head outside into the too-bright-morning to discuss table placement with the caterer, and the heat makes my head swim. I have to brace myself against a pillar to keep from swaying as she speaks.

I get through the next two hours, but by the time the linens are down and I’ve set the place cards out, I’m wondering how I’ll survive until the end. The fumes from the chafing dishes alone have me staggering inside to get away.

Hayes is there, looking like a cool dream in a black button down and suit pants while he tinkers with the set-up for aesthetic services. I want to lean my head against his chest, which would be inappropriate and would also destroy his shirt since I can’t stop sweating.

“You really are very quiet today,” he says. “I don’t think you’ve nagged me once in the past fifteen minutes, which is certainly a record. What did you do last night?”

My eyes fall closed. God, what I would give to lie down right now. “I vigorously masturbated while watching Jane Austen movies.”

“Well done,” he says. “I’ve never gotten an erection and had it killed in the space of one sentence before.”

I force my eyes open, force my shoulders back. I’m not going to be sick right now because I can’t afford to be sick right now. “I didn’t do anything last night. I stayed up until midnight putting together gift bags, and then I went to bed. I’m just a little tired.”

He’s silent for once. His mouth is pressed tight, his jaw locked. Which is his worried face but also his angry face, and I’m not sure which I’m seeing now.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The air conditioning felt so good when I walked in, but now even that’s not enough. I’ve been less sweaty walking out of spin class.

“I’m fine,” I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I promise your little luncheon will be spectacular, and you’ll have more new patients than you know what to do with.”

“I know I’m a demanding asshole,” he says, “but is it so insane to imagine I might be worried about you?” He’s angry, but even worse…he sounds hurt.

My eyes sting, and I close them before he can see. Jesus, what’s wrong with me today? Crying over some tiny indication of Hayes’s care has got to be a sign of personal apocalypse. “No,” I say. “Sorry. You were making your mad face. I just assumed.”

He pulls me toward him. “If you need to go home today, that’s fine.”

“I don’t, but thank you. I’ll be fresh as a daisy by the time your thing starts.” A daisy plucked several weeks prior and now dead, but still.

I go up to a guest room to change. The pillowcase on the bed looks so crisp and cool that I’d give almost anything to lie down right now and sleep until this was done. I sway at the very idea of it.

I get downstairs just as the first guests arrive, and from then on, it’s a blur of people and questions and requests and lost place cards. Lunch is served in the backyard without issue, but I’m almost too out of it to care. Hayes is behind a curtain, doing free filler, thank God. He’d have something to say if he saw me looking like this.

I find the caterer to request a vegan, gluten-free dessert option for a guest who wants something other than fruit. I have to lean against the wall to stay upright as we speak. Lovely wall. You’re my favorite thing in the world right now.

“Who the hell doesn’t like fruit?” the caterer asks me. Her face begins to blur. “I have no idea what I could serve her.”

I’m struggling to put my thoughts together. “Water?” I suggest weakly. “A dessert made of water and air.”

I hear the caterer giggle as a wave of nausea washes over me. I take a deep breath through my nostrils and close my eyes.

“You might want to slow down with the champagne,” she whispers.

I lurch five feet forward, but I’ve forgotten what I was walking toward, and I’m suddenly so unbelievably hot. I go back to the wall, gripping it tight to remain upright, and seconds later Hayes is looming over me with his hand on my forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he says. “For fuck’s sake, Tali, how long have you been like this?” I’m definitely seeing his angry face.

“Not until the party,” I whisper. “I’ll be fine. It’s food poisoning. I just need to sit for a minute.”

“What you need is to go to bed and stay there for three days,” he hisses.