Page 53 of Crash

“Yes,” I assured her quickly. “Well, sort of. I’ve been sick for a while, and doctors can’t figure out why. It’s only fair that you know that. It didn’t start untilafterI took you on as a client,” I assured.

Shelly chewed her lip, clearly calculating this curveball. “Do you think it’ll interfere with wedding planning?”

“I want to say no,” I continued, watching pedestrians stream past us on both sides, “but the truth is, I don’t know what to expect. You need to understand what you’re getting yourself into if you continue with me.”

Rapid breathing, darting eyes. Shelly had entered full panic mode.

“How sick?” she asked.

“They’ve ruled out the really scary stuff, but?—”

“That’s good,” she cut in. “Because no one else would be able to take me on.”

“I’m sure they would.” God, this was so unfair. I’d earned this job, sacrificed everything for it. But this was her wedding, and she deserved the best. “People would probably cancel other weddings to make it happen.” I hated admitting it. “One call, and you’d have ten wedding planners booked by the end of the day.”

“But … you and I have been through so many details together.”

“I’d be happy to transition everything to them.”

“So, you’re quitting?” Her voice cracked.

“Not at all. Shelly, I want this wedding. Truth be told, I need it, but this isn’t about me; it’s about you getting the best chance at having the wedding of your dreams. You deserve nothing less.”

To this, her eyes watered. “See? This is why I want you, Tessa. Do you know how many people are cutthroat, bottom-line, greedy assholes?”

Sadly, I did.

“But you’re the kind of person who will give up her dream to make someone else’s come true. That’s whyyoudeserve this wedding under your belt.”

And this was why I’d been thrilled to have her as a client. Despite how demanding she could sometimes be, Shelly was one of those female entrepreneurs who wanted to bring others up with her—the kind that paid it forward to underdogs like me.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because you don’t have an hour to spare if we have any shot of pulling this off together.”

Shelly nodded.

I blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this your dream wedding, Shelly.”

She hugged me, and as she did, it struck me again how lucky I was. Not just to have a client like Shelly, but also that I didn’t have pancreatic cancer. Shame on me for feeling sorry for myself during pockets of this past year. I would do everything in my power to pull off the wedding of her dreams.

Even if it meant caving in to the bossiest man on the planet. Blake’s warning about my home echoed in my head. Maybe he was onto something. Maybe my environmentwasthe culprit. After all, I hadn’t been sick before moving in, and just the other night, I’d felt fine arriving home, but after sleeping there, I’d thrown up at that last meeting with Shelly.

Yes. My environment was suspect, and I couldn’t wait weeks to find out if it was making me sick.

Which left me with exactly one option.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Blake.

Me: That offer to live with you still on the table?

31

TESSA

“Holy shit.” The words escaped before I could stop them, hanging in the air of the most extravagant space I’d ever seen.

“Do you like it?” Blake asked, setting my pathetically small suitcase down with a soft thud. The sound echoed through his foyer—because, yes, he had an honest-to-God foyer bigger than my entire bedroom.

An abstract painting hung above an elegant table that probably cost more than my entire building, its bold strokes of crimson and gold catching the late afternoon light.