“I was a mess. My face is still a little full, but not so unrecognizable.”
He dipped his head to meet my gaze, his jaw tightening as he narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t want me to see.Me.Did you think I’d judge you? You were sick and didn’t tell me. For months.”
“It wasn’t that you would judge me. I didn’t want you to see me like that.Ididn’t want to see me like that. I cringed every time I caught a glimpse in the mirror. And telling you would have made it all a little too real for me. But I am better. Well, a lot better than I was.”
“What’s wrong now?” His voice was low as he searched my face again, holding on to the tumbler so tightly I was waiting for it to break into shards in his hand.
“I get tired sometimes, so I have to rest even when I don’t want to. Which, knowing me as you do, I hate. And if I get sick, it can take longer to get over it. Even a cold has the potential to be dangerous if I don’t take care of myself. I’m learning to take things day by day.”
I tried for a wide smile to make him relax, but his only reply was a slow nod.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to worry, and I’m still getting used to it all myself, but I never should have shut you out. Please forgive me.”
His eyes fell to the last drop in his glass as he swirled it around. Reactions to my news ran a wide gamut. I hadn’t told many people, but some appeared grief-stricken, like my mother and Landon, and some just said “oh,” shrugging it off as if I’d told them that I had a paper cut.
I didn’t blame anyone for how they took my news, as I didn’t know how to react to myself yet either.
“Where was Nate through all of this?” he asked through gritted teeth, his voice so low it was almost a growl.
“At the beginning, he was concerned, or appeared to be. Especially when it seemed like I was never getting better from this weird, unending flu. Then I started to improve after my diagnosis, and…” I took a sip of my ginger ale as Landon’s eyes thinned to slits in my periphery. “And I guess he lost patience and interest.”
“He was fucking his assistant while you were sick?” He grunted out the words, his entire body rigid as anger radiated off him.
I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It was a while—at least, it looked that way when I found out. But I’m not sure if this was happening all along, or if it came to be because he couldn’t handle being with someone with an unpredictable, chronic illness who wasn’t fun anymore.”
I hoped it was the latter, that he was just a jerk who didn’t take monogamy or commitment seriously, something I should have figured out when he’d taken so long to agree to set a wedding date. He’d grown more and more frustrated with me toward the end, always insisting that I looked fine and needed to snap out of it.
There were symptoms he couldn’t see, like the fatigue that would hit me after a long workday or excruciating joint pain that I’d wake up with after being fine the day before. But I was up and out of bed, so I guessed he thought I should have been over it already, not realizing that chronic meant lifelong.
“It’s a lot to take on.”
“A lot to take on?” Landon’s voice was so loud, the bartender’s head whipped in our direction. “Jesus, Julie, please tell me you aren’t making excuses for him.”
“I’m not, just being real.” When I rubbed my hand over his back in circles, every muscle clenched under the path of my palm. “But I need you to dial it down a little. I appreciate that your first reaction was to defend my honor, but I don’t want you to spend the one weekend we get to see each other preoccupied with planning Nate’s painful demise.”
I managed to pull a tiny smile out of him when I arched a brow. “I’m going to need you to perk up before dinner, and for the rest of this trip.” I draped my arm over his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Please.”
He leaned into me and kissed the top of my head.
“If you say so. Just promise not to keep anything else from me. But you’re okay now? Work is okay?”
“Well, about work…that’s something else.”
I poked the ice in my glass with my straw, seriously considering breaking the one-drink rule I’d made for myself and asking for a shot.
“Something…else? Shit, were you laid off?”
“That’s a fun secondary issue.” I barked out a humorless laugh. “A few weeks ago, my department was cut, and any creative work now is on an hourly project basis. Even though I was assistant creative director, my rate with those few hours isn’t enough to live on. Don’t take this one personally as it hasn’t sunk in enough for me to tell anyone yet.”
“I can understand that. Maybe you can take this as an opportunity for a break. Live off the severance and unemployment and regroup.”
Now he was attempting to rub soothing circles onmyback. It was good to see him in his usual problem-solving mode instead of sad and angry.
“I could, but after thirty days, I’ll have no medical insurance unless I pay out of pocket. And since we bought the house last year, my savings are depleted and the mortgage falls solely on me. I’ve resolved not to think about that until I land back in New York.”
I inhaled a long breath and let it out, trying not to think about how this little trip I’d forced myself to take would set me back.
