63. TESSA
TESSA
“You look so much better.” Scarlett’s tongue poked out in concentration as she applied the topcoat to my pinkie nail, the fresh polish gleaming under Blake’s kitchen lights.
“Do I?” I wiggled my other fingers, admiring her handiwork.
“Girl, you were starting to resemble the Crypt Keeper there for a hot second.”
I shot her my best death glare, which only made her grin wider.
“Only for a hot second!” She held up her hands in defense. “But now? Your skin’s all glowy, and your eyes are bright again. You look amazing.”
“Well, I feel amazing.” The words came out almost reverently. After so long of feeling horrible, it still felt surreal to wake up every morning feeling like myself again.
“So, the medications are working?” Scarlett capped the polish, the familiar scent of acetone mixing with the coffee brewing behind us.
“Like a dream.” I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “No more symptoms, and my energy’s back. It kind of feels like I’ve been dragging an anchor behind me for the past year, and now it’s finally gone.”
“And how does Blake feel now that you have this diagnosis?” Scarlett questioned.
I frowned a little. “He seems great, but he’s still a little concerned that we don’t know all the triggers.
He keeps saying he feels like he’s missing something.
I’m recording everything I eat or drink, and I’ve gone down to the bare minimum again, just so we can start with a clean slate.
” I met her eyes and managed a small smile. “We’ll get there.”
“So, are you fasting tonight then?” she wondered.
“Hell no. The bride paid for the most expensive meal in probably planet Earth history, and she splurged for Krug Grande Cuvée 172ème Edition. That’s like $450 per bottle. You can bet your ass I’ll have more than one glass of that champagne.”
Scarlett chuckled. “I love it. Learning to live with your condition without missing out on the good stuff.” She waved air onto my fingers to make the nails dry faster. “Speaking of Dr. Hottie.” Scarlett waggled her eyebrows. “Where is he?”
“Working.”
“Will he make it to the wedding?”
I frowned, trying to ignore the little pang in my chest. “Unlikely. But that’s okay. Today is a success story.”
She shook her head. “I still cannot believe you planned a wedding in seven weeks. How did you pull it off?”
“Some of it was luck, with vendors having openings from cancellations and things like that. Some of it was just …”
“Incredible business skills,” Scarlett cut in. “I saw your website. Making sure every vendor got their own landing page with contact info and glowing testimonials about pulling off a wedding in record time? Genius.”
I shrugged, but couldn’t hide my smile. “Anyone willing to work with us in such a compressed timeline deserved a shout-out.”
The elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding.
“I thought you said he had to work?” Scarlett’s eyebrows shot up.
“He did.” I slid off the stool and padded toward the foyer in my bare feet, noticing the conspicuously empty spot where the medical statue had stood before Blake and I … well, broke it, having sex. My cheeks warmed at the memory.
I stopped short at the sight of three people standing in the entryway.
A woman with cotton-candy-pink hair held an elegant garment bag, a man with flowing silver-streaked hair carried what looked like a professional case of some sort, and another woman juggled two purple cases that practically screamed expensive.
“I’m sorry, can I help you?”
“Where should we set up?” the man asked, as if this was all perfectly normal.
“Set up for what?”
They exchanged knowing looks.
“Dr. Morrison didn’t tell you we were coming?”
The pink-haired woman’s smile widened. “We’re here to transform you into Cinderella for your ball.”
She breezed past me, setting her things down in the kitchen while I stood there, mouth agape.
“Blake sent you for me ?”
“I have other options downstairs if this one doesn’t suit you.” She unzipped the garment bag, revealing an emerald-green gown that looked like it belonged on a red carpet. The silk caught the light, flowing like liquid jewel.
“Holy crap!” Scarlett practically floated toward it, her hand hovering over the fabric without quite touching it.
“Why?” My voice came out barely above a whisper. “I mean, I told Blake I’d bought a gown.”
“Off the clearance rack, I know.” The pink-haired woman, whose name was Lily, I’d learn later, softened.
“Dr. Morrison said, and I quote, ‘Tessa’s about to show the world what she’s capable of.
Make her feel as extraordinary on the outside as she is on the inside.
Whatever she wants, the sky’s the limit. ’”
My throat tightened as warmth bloomed in my chest.
“Nope, no crying.” The hairstylist tsked. “We can’t have those pretty eyes getting puffy. Now, where can we set up? I still need to bring up your shoe options.”
The next hour passed in a whirlwind of pampering.
Scarlett perched on a nearby stool, thoroughly enjoying the show as the team worked their magic.
I kept my best friend’s perfect manicure but accepted a heavenly pedicure that had me practically melting into the chair.
The makeup artist, who apparently worked for the city’s top fashion magazines, transformed my face with expert touches that somehow made me look like myself, only …
more. My light-brown hair, usually falling in whatever way it pleased, was styled into elegant waves that caught the auburn highlights perfectly.
And then there was the gown.
“Holy shit,” Scarlett breathed as I emerged from the bedroom.
The emerald silk hugged every curve like it was made for me, which, given that Blake had somehow gotten my measurements during last week’s shopping trip, it probably was.
The fabric cascaded to the floor like a waterfall, a daring slit revealing glimpses of the crystal-studded heels below.
The sweetheart neckline made my neck look longer, more elegant, while the off-shoulder sleeves showed off collarbones that were no longer sharp with illness.
I barely recognized the woman in the mirror.
Gone was the tired entrepreneur who’d spent a year fighting her own body while trying to launch a business.
In her place stood someone who radiated health and confidence.
My skin glowed with vitality, my eyes bright with possibility rather than fever.
The mistakes and setbacks of the past year didn’t feel like failures anymore; they were just steps on the path that led me here.
Until this moment, it hadn’t really bothered me that Blake had to work today.
I told myself I’d be busy the entire time at the wedding and reception anyway.
But now, looking at my reflection, I wished we could have had one dance together tonight.
Just one. To celebrate the end of one chapter and the beginning of another in my career, my health, and us.
“Ready?” Lily asked, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the dress. “Dr. Morrison hired a car for you. It’s waiting downstairs.”
I took one last look in the mirror, seeing not just how far I’d come, but how far I could go.
“I’m ready.”
It wasn’t until I took the elevator down and stepped outside into the crisp air that I saw him.
Dressed in a tuxedo, looking handsomer than I had ever seen him, Blake pushed off from the black sedan behind him and walked up to me.
“You made it,” I whispered. “I thought you had to work?”
“I rearranged my schedule a week ago. Do you really think I would miss the most important moment of your career?”
My eyes stung.
“I was given strict instructions by your makeup artist to not allow you to cry. So, suck it up, Cupcake. We have a wedding to get to.”
“I guess you can have it all,” I mused to myself. Your dreams and love.