Chapter 22
Peggy has some thoughts about my life choices
Alex
The waiting room chair was made of concrete and disappointment.
I shifted my weight, crossed my legs, uncrossed them, picked up a magazine about mindful living that made me want to throw it across the room, and set it back down on the small table next to a diffuser pumping out lavender that was doing its best to choke me out.
Tabitha had driven me to my psychiatrist’s office because apparently, I’d lost the ability to make rational decisions about my own transportation.
Or much of anything else, really. She’d taken one look at me after I’d completely lost my mind over a printer jam that morning and decided, “That’s it. We’re going to Dr. Stewart. Today.”
I’d tried to argue that I was fine, that I just needed the printer to work so I could get the quarterly reports printed for Oliver so she didn’t have to worry about it, that everything was under control.
Tabitha had pointed out that I’d been standing in front of the machine making sounds that weren’t quite words for two solid minutes while Lennon watched me with a concerned expression reserved for people having a mental breakdown.
Which, in hindsight, I probably was.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead with the frequency of winged insects burrowing into my brain. I pulled my phone out to check for messages from Finn.
Nothing since yesterday’s: Sorry. Ranch is keeping me busy. I’ll call later
Words that told me absolutely nothing about why he’d been so distant before he left, why he’d pulled back from our usual conversations, why every text exchange felt like I was bothering him.
I’d been replaying the two days before he left over and over, combing through every moment for clues about what I’d missed.
The way he’d kissed my cheek and gone straight to bed when we got home, how he made breakfast in the morning but said nothing, how he’d opted to stay at the house while I went to the office.
The detached way he’d said goodbye when the rideshare arrived, like he was already halfway gone.
Something had happened at the dance recital, more than telling my family to shove it in his polite but dry way, but he wouldn’t tell me what, only promising to do so when he was ready.
And now he was in Wyoming dealing with whatever was going on there while I was falling apart in Salt Lake.
I’d buried myself in projects in an effort to ignore it all, but my brain ping-ponged between Jordan’s increasingly suspicious behavior and Finn’s near-radio silence.
I’d thrown myself into investigating every anomaly Casey and Jason had flagged, eating whatever appeared on my desk without tasting it, staying at the office until Tabitha practically kicked me out of the building, and falling into bed at two in the morning only to lie awake replaying text conversations that revealed nothing.
My phone buzzed with a message from Marcus: You need to call Mom. She’s worried about you and wants to talk about what happened at the recital. Just call her when you have a chance so she stops calling me.
I’d been ignoring my mother’s attempts to “process” the recital aftermath for days.
Letting calls go to voicemail only to delete them without listening.
She never listened, why should I? The last thing I needed was another conversation where she acted like my response to her comments was just me “getting upset,” where she downplayed the fact that she’d basically told Finn I was running out of time to have babies and I’d called her out on it.
The restroom door opened, and I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror as someone walked out.
Dark circles under my eyes like I’d been punched, skin pale and drawn, hair that I’d forgotten to wash yesterday morning because I’d been too focused on getting to the office to deal with the crisis du jour.
Speaking of, I’d missed my hair appointment completely, which my roots reminded me of with their obvious non-descript color against the fading pink.
I looked exactly like what I was: someone whose carefully maintained life was completely falling apart.
Someone who didn’t have the energy to care.
“Alexandra,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway leading to the offices.
I looked up to see Dr. Stewart… Peggy… watching me as if she’d already diagnosed half my problems just from observing me in the waiting room.
I shoved my phone into my bag and stood up too quickly. The room tilted slightly, reminding me that I’d forgotten to eat lunch… again. I scooped up a few candies from the bowl on the reception counter.
“Come on back,” she smiled, stepping aside to let me pass as I unwrapped the first hard caramel and shoved it in my mouth. “How are you doing today?”
I huffed. I was in my psychiatrist’s office because my assistant had staged an intervention after I’d lost it over office equipment that couldn’t be bothered to work right.
I was obsessing over a man who’d decided I wasn’t worth explaining things to and had run away back to where his high school sweetheart still lived.
I was doing my best to run a company while investigating whether one of my key employees was stealing from me while fighting off what felt like hostile acquisition threats.
I still had to pick a venue for Enzo and Dom’s bachelor party.
I was ignoring my family and forgetting to eat and sleeping four hours a night if I slept at all.
“Fine,” I responded automatically, following her down the hallway.
The lie came easily but tasted bitter on my tongue.
Peggy sat on her chair across from me, tablet balanced on her knee, the same calm expression I’d been seeing every few months for the past five years, except today I hated it.
Her office was designed to be calming with soft lighting, muted colors, a white noise machine humming quietly in the corner.
In this moment it felt like being trapped in a beige coffin.
“So,” she began, stylus poised over her tablet. “Tabitha mentioned you’ve had a difficult week.”
“Tabitha has opinions about everything,” I muttered, sitting back on the sofa and crossing my arms. “She thinks because I had one moment where a printer made me lose my shit, suddenly I’m falling apart.”
“Tell me about the printer.”
“It jammed. I may have... reacted poorly,” I shifted, the leather creaking.
“But honestly, everything’s been stupid lately.
Finn left for Wyoming and suddenly he can barely manage complete sentences when he texts me back.
If he texts me back. I’m talking three-word responses after weeks of actual conversations.
Meanwhile, I’m dealing with this situation at work where one of my directors has been acting shady as hell, accessing files he shouldn’t be touching, staying late when he normally leaves at five on the dot.
And Enzo wants my opinion on table-scapes. ”
Peggy made a note. “How has Finn’s communication change affected you?”
“It’s annoying,” I said quickly. “I mean, he basically told my mom off when she kept pressing about children after my nieces’ dance recital and then he just..
. just went all distant and deflective, and flew off to deal with whatever family thing came up without explaining anything.
I mean, did I do something wrong? Or is this just him taking cover while he figures out how to extract himself from having to put up with me or my family anymore? ”
“And the work situation?”
“Jordan. My dev director. My brother and Casey have been tracking weird system access patterns, late-night file transfers, database queries that don’t match his normal work.
The only thing he talks about is mother-loving Titan Games and how amazing they are while Titan keeps sending acquisition offers that read more like threats while not-so-subtly pulling work from us and canceling project contracts.
Plus, my mother’s been calling nonstop about the dance recital thing because apparently, I was ‘over-dramatic’ for calling her out on her shit when she made comments about my age and life choices in front of Finn.
Heaven forbid she recognize what I’ve spent the last seven years building.
What I’ve poured my soul into. My creation that has fifty-three hearts beating inside,” the words tumbled out faster than I’d intended.
“Which, by the way, was completely inappropriate on her end and I was sick of it, but somehow I’m the problem for having feelings about it. ”
“And the wedding?”
“Actually, wedding stuff is not so bad.”
“Regardless, it sounds like you’re managing several
stressors simultaneously.”
“Managing,” I huffed. “Sure. Okay, but I mean you know how it gets… maybe I’ve been working late.
And maybe I forgot to eat a few times. And maybe I haven’t been sleeping great because my brain won’t stop cataloging every possible reason why Finn’s being weird and every suspicious thing Jordan’s been doing and how I’m going to keep control of my company when Oliver leaves.
But that’s just how my brain works when there’s a lot going on.
I think I’d have better luck stopping a freight train. ”
“When you say ‘a few times,’ how often are we talking about missing meals?”
“I don’t know. A few days? Tabitha’s been bringing me food, so it’s not like I’m starving.
And I have some protein shakes in my fridge at home,” I waved my hand dismissively.
“And before you ask, I’m still taking my meds.
Same time every day, just like always. But I don’t think they’re actually working. ”
“Alex,” Peggy set her tablet aside, leaning forward slightly. “When did you last sleep more than four hours in a night?”
The question caught me off guard. “I... what does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. When had I last slept well? “I don’t know. Maybe two weeks? Or three? It’s hard to tell when you spend your life not really sleeping anyway.”
“And you’re eating irregularly, working excessive hours, experiencing increased anxiety and obsessive thoughts,” she spoke objectively, like she was reading a checklist. “Your medication works best when your body is functioning within normal parameters. Sleep, nutrition, stress management—these aren’t optional extras. ”
“Okay, so I’ll sleep more. I’ll eat lunch. Problem solved.”
“It’s not that simple,” Peggy’s gentle authority made my stomach drop. “Alex, your current lifestyle is undermining your medication’s effectiveness. We need to make some immediate changes, and we’re going to need adjust your treatment plan.”
“Adjust how?”
“Taper you off your current medications until you can demonstrate sustained healthy habits. Sleep schedule, regular meals, stress management. Your brain can’t regulate properly when your body is in constant crisis mode.
Your body can’t regulate and flush your system when you’re not taking care of it.
You are quite literally breaking down mentally and physically. ”
The words hit me like cold water. “You want to take me off my meds because I’ve had a bad couple of weeks?” Months, Alex.
“I want to protect your long-term health. Alex, what you’re doing isn’t sustainable. And if you can’t make the lifestyle changes necessary to support your treatment, then we need to find alternatives that don’t require the same level of physical stability.”
My hands started to shake. Going off my meds meant going back to the scattered, chaotic, rage-fueled person I’d been before diagnosis. The person who couldn’t focus, couldn’t stop focusing, couldn’t organize, couldn’t stop organizing… couldn’t function at the level I needed to run my company.
“How long?”
Peggy consulted her tablet, scrolling through her notes. “If we start tapering immediately, you could be completely off your current medications within two to three weeks. That gives your system time to adjust gradually.”
“And if I can prove I’m taking better care of myself?”
“We’d need to see sustained changes for at least a month before considering whether to return to your current regimen. Consistent sleep schedule, regular meals, stress management techniques being implemented instead of just discussed.”
She leveled me with a look that told me she knew exactly how likely I was to follow through. “This isn’t negotiable, Alex. Your body is telling us it needs help.”
I stared at her, calculating the timeline.
Two to three weeks to dump the chemical support system that had made me functional for the last five years.
A month to prove I could maintain basic human needs while running a company and dealing with whatever was happening with Finn and Titan and the Jordan situation.
“I need to think about this.”
“Of course. But Alex?” Peggy’s voice softened. “The fact that Tabitha had to intervene today tells me you’re already struggling more than you realize. This isn’t punishment. It’s prevention.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice to stay steady.
The weight of everything: Finn’s distance, Jordan’s betrayal, Titan’s thinly veiled threats, my mother, and now this, pressed down on me like trying to breathe underwater.
I was powerless to stop the hiccupping breath that stabbed painfully inside my chest.
“Can I... can I call you in a few days? Once I figure out what I’m going to do?”
“Absolutely. But Alex, don’t wait too long. Your health isn’t something you can put off indefinitely.”