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It was a pity Brett and I couldn’t spend time together to talk about what was happening. With the media pressure on us, I would have liked to have talked to someone who was going through the same thing, but that would only have made everything worse. It was better we stayed away from each other.
When I woke up in the morning, I felt sick. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was off. I got out of bed and took a shower, hoping it would make me feel better. When that didn’t, I ate breakfast, but that only made me nauseated. By the time I had to leave for work, I didn’t feel up to it at all. So instead, I called Brett.
“I’m going to take a day off,” I said to Brett. “I feel terrible.”
“Is everything all right?” he asked. I could hear the concern in his voice.
“I don’t know, maybe I just need a time-out. The last week has been very difficult. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I understand. I wish I could crawl back into bed myself. Feel better, I’ll check in with you later today. Pop me a text or something, but let’s not talk too long.”
When we ended the call, I changed back into my pajamas and climbed into bed. I didn’t know what was up, but I had a feeling my body wasn’t holding out under the stress. I had been through a lot in my career as an executive assistant, but the kind of pressure Brett and I had faced the past week had been something else entirely.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I usually performed well under pressure, but again, this was something else. I knew it would look bad. I knew the media would paint me like I was hiding out because there was truth in the rumors that were being spread. But I couldn’t help it. I had been going to work with my head held high the entire week. I had done everything I was supposed to, to show them that I wasn’t going to tuck my tail and run. It was Friday, I had a whole week of hell behind me, and I was just so tired.
Lately, I had been getting a lot of sleep. It was easier to pass the time by sleeping, easier to hide away from everything that was being said and broadcasted by closing my eyes and escaping from the world. Considering how early I had been going to bed, I shouldn’t have been tired at all. But maybe this wasn’t physical fatigue. Maybe I was mentally drained.
The other alternative was that I was coming down with something. Maybe I was getting the flu because my immune system was down. When I stressed, I tended to eat less, and that affected my health. Or maybe I had caught a stomach bug. It would be shit timing, but it wasn’t impossible. After all, if my immune system was down, I could catch anything that was in the air. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if everything had been business as usual. It was only because everything was upside down right now that it seemed ironic I would get sick on top of it all.
I tried to stop analyzing it. I could drive myself crazy trying to find the answers, but without going to a doctor, I wouldn’t know. And I wasn’t nearly sick enough to brave the media out there to go to a doctor’s office. No, I would stay in bed and sleep it off. Brett had told me I could stay home, and I would make the most of it. I would worry about everything again later. For now, I would let Brett shoulder the load while I tried to recover. Maybe I would be able to return the favor at some point.
When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep quicker than I had expected. When I open my eyes again, the quality of the light in my room was different, and I realized I had slept a lot longer than I had meant to. It was late afternoon, and the world was starting to settle down after a long day of work.
I checked my phone. I had a missed call from the office—no doubt Brett had tried to check in when I hadn’t expected him. I decided I’d send a text in a few minutes so he wouldn’t worry, but I wasn’t going to phone him back. I doubted the paps would know if we were talking on the phone, but if they had managed to find out that I had been visiting Brett in the penthouse by bribing the front desk, they could find anything. It wasn’t that I was paranoid. I was only being careful, I told myself.
After taking a quick shower, I walked into the kitchen to prepare something to eat. My doorbell rang, and I froze. I wasn’t expecting company, and I was suddenly terrified that the reporters were hunting me down. I knew I was being paranoid now. I ran through a list of the people it could be. My mom had a key, so it wouldn’t be her. Katie would have phoned before dropping by. Brett would stay far away from me for as long as the stories about us circulated, and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would make a house call.
