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“We’re staying in town. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I know whatever you have planned will be spectacular.” Her heels click along the white marble floor toward the kitchen while I drag myself up the curved staircase for a shower.
After closing the bedroom door, I call my assistant. “Megan, I need a huge favor. It’s my anniversary, and I have nothing planned and no gift for my wife.”
“Oh, uh …”
Of course, she’s caught off guard because I’ve used her for a million things. Still, I’ve never been the guy who asks his assistant to remember birthdays or anniversaries, buy gifts, or make reservations at the last possible minute.
“I’m sorry, but?—”
“Nope,” she chirps. “I’ve got it all handled. Are you staying in Philly?”
“Yes.” I remove my already loose tie.
“Great. Can you give me ten minutes?”
I love her. She’s getting a raise first thing in the morning. “Yes. I need to shower and dress.”
“Keep your phone close; I’ll send you all the details.”
“Thank you, Megan. You are truly the best.”
“Of course, Mr. Milloy.”
I pull it off.Well, Megan pulls it off. A chef’s table dinner at a new French restaurant and tickets to George Frideric Handel’sJulius Caesar.
“Oh my god, Price! I can’t believe you’re taking me to an opera,” she covers her mouth, “in Paris.”
That makes two of us. I’m not a fan of the opera or Paris. And I now have mixed feelings about Megan. I thought she liked me better than this. Now, I’m forced to rethink her raise.
“I love you so much.” Amelia stands to lean over the table and kiss me.
I smile when she sits back in her chair and adjusts her dress. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
She sips her champagne, eyes narrowing a bit before she sets it back on the table. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. I know you say it’s stress at work, but you’ve been sluggish, and your skin is pasty.”
“I’m sure it’s the lighting.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve noticed it at home too. When’s the last time you had a physical?”
I watch the chef carefully place a sprig of rosemary beside two lamb chops. “I don’t know.” I lie.
When I know more, I’ll tell her about my trip to the ER earlier today. But until I know something concrete, there’s no need to worry her.
“Well, I think you should schedule something. It might just be a virus. That would explain your fatigue.”
I nod several times while shifting my attention back to her. “I’m sure that’s it. But I’ll have it checked out if I don’t feel better soon.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DOES “OKAY” HAVE A REAL DEFINITION?
A week later,I get the call.
The test results are back, and none too soon. I have no energy. Dragging my ass out of bed every morning has felt like running back-to-back marathons for a whole week. I’m basing this off the three that I’ve run in a span of five years. Honestly, I’d rather run the damn marathon than deal with whatever this is.
“Can we talk?” I ask when Amelia opens the door after dropping Astrid off at school.
