FULL NOVELXO Reverie: Chapter 22
MY HEAD POUNDED as Miranda Lambert belted out her song from my phone.
It was a distinct reminder that I hadn’t followed any part of my health regimen the night before. I’d drunk alcohol, consumed sugary hot apple cider, and ignored all my vitamins and pills.
Again.
The nutritionist my mother hired years ago would have said I was feeding the cancer that lived deep in my bones still. His warning used to haunt me.
Now, I shoved the thought aside along with my sheets to stretch on my bed. I rolled over to grab my phone and silence it, but hit a wall of man.
I recoiled fast.
Oh, no. Jett had looked so good last night. How would I explain myself to everyone? I went home with the boss, I slept with him again, and Steven would … Oh, Jesus. Steven. We were going to be over. He would never talk to me again.
For some reason, the idea came as a sort of relief.
I lifted the sheets to wake up my Phantom and saw green tights.
My stomach dropped.
Green tights traveled up to a green shirt and a symmetrical face with blond hair.
Steven had come home with me.
I glanced down and took inventory. I was still in my costume.
I’d blacked out.
Our first time together wasn’t forgotten because it never happened.
We were still definitely together, and I needed a freaking mind reset.
Jett probably went home with Gloria. I rewound the night. I’d danced for the crowd, won the contest, had more drinks. Brey and Jax left shortly after. Bastian arrived.
Bastian Armanelli—he’d come with Cade and Katie. They’d dressed as grim reapers. If they’d come earlier, I would have crowned them winners; their costumes killed it.
We drank so much. I remember climbing onto a banquet table at one point to bottle feed shots down people’s throats.
I winced at that. Steven got me down from the table and must have stuck by my side the rest of the night.
I nudged him. “Steven?”
He groaned and cracked an eye open. “Morning.”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Probably about as good as you’re feeling.”
“Right.” I stood up from the bed and wiggled my corset around so I could breathe. “I’d love for us to get breakfast or something but you’re still in costume, and I have a killer headache.”
“Agreed.” He got up and grabbed his things off my nightstand. “Rain check?”
The man was cutting and running out of my house faster than I could kick him out. “Sure.” I shrugged because I didn’t know if either of us wanted one. “Uh, tell your family I say hi. I’ll see you at work.”
“Right. Right. See you there.” Just when I thought he was about to leave, he French kissed the hell out of my face, morning breath and all. “I think the party went well. The Stonewoods seem to love you.” He paused. “And me too.”
He turned on his heel and strutted out my front door.
I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, grabbed my vitamins and pills from the kitchen, and went to brush my teeth. I peeled off my costume and studied what was left of me in the mirror. Glitter stuck in my matted pink hair, and my milky skin sagged. Dehydrated. I leaned on the counter where the vitamins and pills for Saturday and Sunday sat.
“I hate you,” I whispered. Then I popped the cases and downed everything except the medication. My heart medication. A little red pill that was supposed to be mandatory and for that very reason it was the hardest to swallow.
Literally and metaphorically.
I was better. I was living. I was enjoying life. And the life I’d mapped out was coming together. I had an impressive job, exceptional friends, a banging body (if I said so myself), and not one damn scar from the cancer.
The pain and turmoil were where they should be—packed away and hidden.
And I planned to be in a committed relationship, marry, and have kids. Steven was a step in the right direction. He’d commit, he’d try, and maybe he’d tackle the hurdles with me.
I gripped the counter, glowering at the pill. I’d paved my way through the chemo, through traveling to Chicago, to this job, to freaking Hawaii.
I swiped the pill over the edge of the counter, into the toilet bowl, and flushed it away.
I didn’t need that reminder. I was sure there would be millions of other little reminders in my life.
I took the rest of the day to prepare for Monday, the day of our meeting. I wanted everyone primed with Levvetor information and happy to serve it up to Jett.
Video chatting with Gloria and Brey regarding tactics and PowerPoints helped ease my worries.
ON MONDAY MORNING, I slid on my Louboutin black stilettos. The red soles matched the fierce red dress I zipped up. Commuting on the L, I rehearsed my points again. Everyone had received an updated version of the PowerPoint and files to review before the meeting at 1 p.m.
I scoped out the workplace when I arrived. Nothing seemed much different. Josie handed me a coffee and smiled at me as I sat down. “Everyone is still talking about the weekend.”
“Oh, great,” I replied and lifted my cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Sure. Also, I pulled a few notes on our marketing efforts for the meeting later. I think if we discussed merging one of our other pharmaceutical company’s branding with Levvetor’s and consulted the finance team regarding what we could afford, the Levvetor acquisition would be beneficial.”
“Great idea.” I pulled up a file on my computer to make note of her suggestions. “Thanks so much for looking into it. I wasn’t sure anyone would have the time to review any of this before the meeting.”
Josie patted my shoulder. “We’re all part of Stonewood Enterprises, Vick. If we don’t have time, we make it. I think it will be a great work session. See you later.”
Gloria popped up out of nowhere to repeat Josie’s description. “‘Work session’? I saw that in the meeting reminder you sent this morning. Nice touch.”
I groaned and tapped a red manicured nail on the desk. I’d painted my acrylic nails the night before to match my look. “I thought it might help but now it seems silly.”
“It’ll help. Everyone here is competitive. They’ll all try to one up each other.”
“Let’s hope so,” Brey whispered as she stopped at my desk. Steven glared over his computer at us like we might get him in trouble.
“We’re talking about the meeting later, Steven.”
“Oh. That’s great. It’s just, we’re right in front of Jett’s office. I don’t want him to think we’re just …” He shrugged like his thought was obvious.
I dropped my eyes to make sure I didn’t roll them dramatically. Gloria pivoted to face his desk. “You think my boss would ever believe I’m …” She shrugged as if to shake off Steven’s ridiculous comment and turned her red lips down. “Please. Go back to work.”
Both Brey and I stared at each other with eyes wide as an owl’s in complete shock. Steven opened and closed his mouth like a guppy before turning back to his computer.
Gloria continued as if we were discussing the weather. “I’ll go set up the conference area for later. Do not be afraid. Jett smells fear. Brey, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She walked off before I could respond. “I’m more than a little frightened now.”
“At least she’s on our side,” Brey reassured me.
“The deal is ours to lose.”
“And you’ve never lost a thing, Vick,” Brey said, each word pronounced like she had everlasting belief in me.
If only she knew.
My friends would never know though. I wasn’t there to present my sob story to them, and I’d never willingly share that I had beat my first round of cancer.
Because that’s all it was. The first round.
I didn’t need them looking at me differently, like I was a poor little thing who’d barely survived. I didn’t need them worrying that I’d somehow get cancer again either. I didn’t want to be stuck in the padded room my friends would definitely build for me if they knew.
Living with the secret of having had cancer was lonely. It was lonely when you had it, and it was lonely if you survived it. I worried about it coming back more than enough for everyone; I didn’t want them worrying too. Sure, it would be lonely if I had to go through it again, maybe not surviving this time. Dying slowly.
Yes, I hadn’t lost a thing by keeping it to myself. Not yet.
But I worried every single day that I would.