Chapter 28
I’m so tired. It’s all I can do to get through my FroggoDoggo walks. Happily, no one bats an eye when I arrive in my cosplay shame. Pleather leggings and a new Mitch’s Surf Shop sweatshirt zipped up to my neck fit right in with athleisure wear. At least I had spare sneakers in my trunk.
When I finally stumble home that afternoon to my cottage, I’m so exhausted I’m near comatose.
It’s not a satisfying tired, the kind that accompanies purpose and value.
It’s like I was stuck in an airport when the last leg of my flight was canceled after I already took two planes.
It’s a soul-crushing tired that takes you down physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I’m tired.
I’m vibing, and I’m tired.
My life is unstructured, and I’m tired. Too tired to eat. Too tired to shower. Too tired to do anything except change into pj’s and collapse on my bed.
When I wake up Saturday morning, I realize I’m not just tired but sick. I cancel all my regular FroggoDoggo clients because I have a fever and will not be going anywhere. When did it become this physically demanding to cancel appointments?
I have to take a power nap before I send off the last one. The only reason I wake up is because my phone buzzes with a text.
I’m sorry, Mrs. Hurst, but I will not be taking your Shar-Pei out for her walk and Saturday grooming this afternoon, I tap out.
Why do my hands ache? Was it because of how hard I gripped the steering wheel last night…morning…whenever it was when I drove around sobbing?
“Rant with all the sad-face emojis you want,” I say, pulling my blanket up closer to my chin, “but I’m not going to make it.”
I wake up sometime in the afternoon. I reach for my phone to check the time only to drop it. I’ll leave it there. It’s not worth the effort to pick it up off the floor. I’m freezing.
I suddenly understand why lizards and snakes sun themselves. I need to sun myself. I’ll try it right after another power nap.
When I wake up next, I’m even sicker.
Muscles ache. High fever. Bone-chilling fatigue. And so cold.
I grab my comforter and pillow and hobble out to my Bali bed in the sunshine. Warm, delicious sunshine.
I lie down, curling into a fetal position, my duvet wrapped tight around me, and drift off to a fever-dream high.
I should be out with Feefee the Shar-Pei, then Cosmo the bulldog, then Mitzy Princess Kitty. She had a tea party scheduled for her Instagram stories. I was supposed to bring the petits fours. Oops.
I lean back on my pillows, my consciousness drifting in and out. Do I need to be at the courthouse? Was I asked to officiate at a pet wedding? I’m not a judge, so I can’t marry anyone, but did they need a witness? I can be a witness even if I’m not a lawyer anymore.
“What do you mean Bea’s in love with me?”
The words cut through my fever high like a bucket of ice water splashed in my face. That was Mike’s voice.
“Which one was Bea?” an unfamiliar male voice asks. “The redhead bombshell or the hottie working the register?”
“Dude, a little respect please.” That one’s Adam. “She is my sister.”
“And she lives right next door,” Mike says. “You mind keeping your voices down?”
“No, man,” Adam says. “She has her pet-sitting gigs all Saturday afternoon. You’re in the clear.”
Mike sighs, and I hear the scrape of sandpaper on wood. “She was the brunette at the register. The feisty one.”
“The one you stole my bike to chase.”
“Borrowed, Vlad. I borrowed your bike,” Mike says.
“And?” Vlad asks.
Mike clears his throat. It’s a small tick he has when he can’t remember a line. “She wasn’t interested.”
Adam snorts.
“Something you want to share with the class?” Mike asks before the chop saw growls into action.
“She’s completely into you,” Adam shouts. “In love with you probably.”
Sounds of tools dropping. “Sorry,” Mike mutters.
“How have you not chopped off your foot by now?” Adam asks.
“I know, right?” Vlad adds. “Lover boy should have lost a finger at least. But it’s like this,” Vlad continues. “Successful, self-assured, good-looking chaps like us are often unaware of the subtleties of the fairer sex.”
“Vlad. Stop talking,” Mike says.
“He’s on to something.” Adam sounds like he’s closer. “Bea has never been one to show her hand. Strategy has always been a strength. But I guarantee she didn’t help out Thursday night for me.”
“She seems to be in the business of collecting favors,” Mike says, a little bitterly.
“True. But she also wouldn’t return any of the junior partners’ calls at my Dad’s firm after she met you last spring.”
I feel sick. I mean, I wasn’t feeling great before.
Mike is silent for a beat. “Are you serious?”
“Heard it from my old man himself.”
“Lawyers are tools,” Vlad says.
“Bea’s a lawyer,” Mike says.
“No, she’s not,” Vlad says before falling silent. “Shut up. For reals?”
“She’s on a sabbatical. But yes,” Adam concedes. “Once a lawyer, always a lawyer.”
No! No, that’s not fair. I was so lonely as a lawyer. I don’t want to stay lonely. Tired too. And bored. Don’t doom me to such a miserable fate, Adam!
“Where’d she go to school?” Vlad asks.
“Berkeley Law.”
“Pretty and smart.” He mutters a swear. “Do you have any other sisters, bro?”
“Two. But they’re happily married to other lawyers who worship them.”
I hear paper rustling. “The hard copy of the tax info you requested. I asked Stacey to give it to you last night.”
“She did. I lost it in a car chase.”
Vlad laughs. “Hope the play goes well.”
“Thanks, man. And thanks for the bike.”
“Escape room is waiting for you when it’s over,” Adam says.
“Right.” Vlad laughs. “And the hordes of adoring fans who have a kink for villains.”
“And here I thought it was my boyish good looks.” I can hear the smile in Mike’s voice.
“You wish,” Vlad says. “Catch you later, bro. Thanks for the ride, Adam.”
“See you, Vlad.” Mike again.
“I should be heading out too,” Adam says. “Don’t give up on, Bea. You’d be good for each other.”
I full-body cringe. I’ll die of shame if this fever doesn’t kill me first.
“Yeah, okay,” Mike says with a laugh.
“I’m serious,” Adam says.
“Dude, she hates me.”
It’s true. I hate Mike. It’s the only conclusion I came to during my sobfest outside the library.
The chop saw whirs to life, and I don’t catch what Adam says in response. Maybe if I moved closer to the gate, but that sounds exhausting, and collapsing with a moan halfway there would definitely give me away.
“Women don’t want nice guys!” Mike sounds upset. “They want villains!”
I hear more sawing and my brother’s unintelligible reply.
“I’m a villain with Bea,” Mike says. “Always have been, and she’s a villain back. Except she’s freaking beautiful. Sharp. Insane too. The woman could curdle sunshine and distill it down into something sinister.”
I hear more power tools, which is fine because I’m trying to process if I’ve just been insulted or praised.
“You said she came to your play twice.” That’s Adam. “Do you know what it takes to get Bea away from her books and Starship Cruiser reruns?”
“Dogs by the name of Puddles?”
Adam laughs.
“Hey, how’s your Catstrike?” Mike asks. “Everything okay there?”
“What?” Adam says.
“Come on. I’m not an idiot.”
Adam pauses. “I know. But if you could pretend to be one when you come back after the play, I’d appreciate it. Things are…complicated.”
“Hey, always happy to play the fool.”
“You’re the man. Break a leg. Oh, and I know you’re going to text me later, but I don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Bea’s favorite flower. We’ve all just resorted to giving her cactuses.”
“Out.”
“Yup.”
I fall back asleep to the sound of the chop saw.