Page 81 of Crash

Scarlett arched an eyebrow. “And go where?”

“Home.”

“I thought you said a preliminary inspector found possible signs of mold?”

I slammed a drawer shut. “Note the two keywords there: preliminary and possible.”

“Tessa.” Scarlett’s voice had that mix of exasperation and concern that only best friends can perfect. “You can’t sacrifice your health over your feelings.”

“You’re just a bucket of advice today, aren’t you?” I snapped, then immediately felt guilty when hurt flashed across her face. “Sorry. I’m just …”

“Come stay with me,” she offered, gracefully ignoring my outburst.

A strangled laugh escaped me. “Your new apartment complex doesn’t even offer parking. I wouldn’t be able to leave for work.”

“What about your brother?”

My hands froze on the pair of shoes I’d grabbed. “You already know the answer to that.”

“He’s going to find out eventually,” she pointed out. “Might as well be now.”

“Asked and answered.” I shook my head sharply. “He would literally drag me to specialists all over the country. I have a wedding to plan, Scarlett. On an impossibly compressed timeline. Or else my business? Kaboom.”

“Then stay here.”

“Absolutely not.”

Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “How have you felt since you moved out of the townhouse?”

The question hit like a lie detector test at the worst possible time.

I frowned. “I felt sick after he rejected me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Aside from that massive emotional moment, how have you felt since you got here?”

I said nothing.

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s probably just because I’ve been eating more regularly,” I argued weakly.

“Or maybe because you removed the source that was poisoning your body.” She stood up, crossing to where I stood by the dresser. “Listen to me. You can spend most of your time in your bedroom and office, avoiding Blake completely. But the most important thing is your health. If you go back to your place and get sick again, you won’t be able to pull off this wedding.”

“Why did you have to put it that way?” I snarled.

There had to be another option. Something I wasn’t thinking of. Maybe Scarlett’s apartment could work. I could spend a couple of days setting up a space … well, I don’t know, at her kitchen table maybe? And, hey, Chicago was known for its public transportation. Maybe I could Uber to all my appointments, somehow in a very timely manner?

Ugh. No, that wouldn’t work.

I punched my suitcase.

“Stay,” a deep voice bellowed from the doorway.

My heart did that stupid little jump it always did when Blake appeared. His presence filled the frame, and my eyes caught on his bruised knuckles before I could stop myself. Tomorrow, he’d probably have to explain those to his bosses at the hospital. Another thing I was screwing up for him.

I forced ice into my tone. “Eavesdropping? Yikes.”

Scarlett cleared her throat dramatically. “Oh my God, I am suddenly parched. Like, Death-Valley-in-summer parched. I should … water. Yes. That.” She slipped past Blake with all the subtlety of a tornado in a trailer park.