Page 69 of Living Hell

TWENTY-THREE

Tyler

“DON’T YOU EVER CHANGE.” I heard Iona’s voice come from the kitchen along with some kissing noises.

“That is super gross. Seriously, I can’t be in the same room as you while you eat that.” Another female voice floated out. It was Cara, Iona’s assistant.

She got here about a week ago and was staying at the Fire Inn on Main Street, but she was always here. She’s nice and all, but I never get alone time with Iona anymore.

“What’s gross?” I asked as I stepped inside.

I decided to take the day off of work—gave Olivia a chance to help with the animals and get some on-the-job training. She’s assisted me for several months, but I think doing it herself would build her confidence.

That and it’s a slow day. In fact, the past two weeks had been slow. Our busiest day was Tuesday with three appointments. One was our regular, Mrs. Fiorello with her Shih-Tzu, Boris. She came in every week with a new worry that her dog had a new ailment.

The other appointments were from a new client who was new to the area and the other was a stray found by animal control. We went from having a line out the door last month to barely having a customer.

And I knew the reason why. It all changed the moment Iona strolled back into town. I loved her but it was hard to get used to the dramatic change she brought with her.

“What’s gross . . . uh, you’re eating that?” I said as I stumbled back and grasped the wall.

Iona sat at the kitchen counter dipping raisins in pickle juice. Maybe this was a prank and it wasn’t actually pickle juice.

“That’s not real.” I walked over and then the smell hit me. The briny scent burned my nostrils and bile crept up my throat.

“Oh, dear Lord, I think I’m going to hurl,” Iona and I both said at the same time.

She jumped from the stool and ran toward the bathroom. Once I heard the sounds of her yakking, I ran to the sink just in time to dry heave. Since I had yet to have breakfast, there was nothing for me to throw up.

“I don’t know how you do it. Are you sure you want to marry her?” Cara said from behind me.

I turned and leaned against the counter with sweat rolling down my brow. “You’re the one who’s been her assistant for the past five years. Is this some new Hollywood diet? If so, there may be an ultimatum. Either the diet goes, or I do.”

“I never heard of this diet before, but new ones crop up weekly. She once tried the all mayo diet. Now, that was disgusting.”

Perhaps marrying a Hollywood actress was more challenging than I had thought. I knew the engagement was fake, but I was reconsidering that idea. Maybe it didn’t have to be fake . . . I loved Iona more each day, and I knew by the end of the month she’d be heading back to the West Coast.

I couldn’t lose her, not again.

“I think I upchucked a small country.” Iona’s voice was hoarse and even with her damp brow and messy hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was beautiful.

In sickness and in health, I’d love this woman until the day I died. That was a promise I made to myself, but I hoped to stand next to her one day and announce it to the world.

“No more diets. Most of them are trash anyway. If you just eat healthy and exercise, then you should have no trouble with your weight. Your body dictates what’s a healthy weight for you, not society,” I said as I moved toward the counter and put the pickle jar away before I dry heaved again.

“But it’s not—”

I waved my hands, effectively cutting her off. “No excuses.” I wrapped her in my arms despite the pickle and bile smell emanating from her hair. “You’re so beautiful and sexy and so much more than just your body. Don’t hurt yourself because others have a sick sense of what’s attractive.”

She was quiet for a moment and began to tremble in my arms. Sometimes it’s hard to hear the truth, but I wanted her to know that I loved her, body and soul. No diet or weight gain or any change to her body would disrupt my heart.

“I’m going to be sick again.” She pushed me so hard I hit the edge of the counter. Then she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“What is that smell?” I heard my brother behind me. Turning, I saw the behemoth cover his nose. “Did something die?”

“Other than the nerve endings in my nose, no. It’s a celebrity diet Iona tried, but I put a stop to it.”

He shook his head but didn’t lower his hand from his nose. “Good luck with that.”

---