Page 63 of Six Month Wife
When Bets and John leave a few minutes later, I stay behind, staring into my half-empty cappuccino like it holds the answers to my problems.
Her words replay in my mind, each one landing like a blow. One month. That’s all she’s giving me to prove I can keep my business afloat.
I’ve poured everything into this—my time, my energy, my heart. The thought of losing it, of watching Bets come in and take over, triggers my absolute fear of failure. It's not that I don't trust her, it's not that I don't have what it takes to do it myself.
It's that I have to be the one to save this.
I finish my drink and leave the café. The sun glares down hard on me as I step outside. The warm breeze does little to ease the knot of anxiety in my chest.
I need a plan. And I need it fast.
I get into my car and start the engine. I know I can do this. I don't know if I can in one month.
Bets’ words echo in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling of disappointment gnawing at me. I’ve always been the type to tackle problems head-on, to push through the hard times with a smile.
Today, I'm not strong. The pressure is getting to me, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend like everything’s fine.
The last time I felt this overwhelmed, I was twenty-two and living on protein bars and ego, pretending I had a plan when all I had was a half-paid lease and a yoga certification. I could fake it until I made then. The stakes weren't as high.
I clutch the steering wheel a little tighter, the tires of my car humming against the pavement as I drive toward Citrine. At least there, I can lose myself in work for a while. Maybe that’ll help quiet the chaos in my mind.
As I pull into the parking lot, I spot Sue, my one remaining, part-time employee. Seeing her only reinforces how far I’ve fallen.
She’s rearranging stuff in the back of her SUV. I’m grateful I can still offer Sue a few shifts a week. At least for now. Being able to have at least small breaks is the only thing keeping me sane while I frantically try to come up with a solution.
The morning sun reflects off the big front windows. The planters are still blooming, the citrus-scented diffuser is doing its thing, and from the outside, everything looks okay. I let out a breath and pretend that’s enough.
Okay isn't enough.
Sue heads toward the storage room in the back, waving. “Morning!”
I asked her to come in early to do some inventoryaccounting. I want to know for sure what we have and what we need to move.
“Morning,” I call back, crossing toward the smoothie bar to check on restocks.
“You’ve got a few juice orders already waiting,” she adds, glancing at the tablet screen behind the register. “And someone called in asking about walk-in chair massages.”
I nod. “Thanks. I may have some time today if you’re done and can be at the cash register. Otherwise, I’ll put them on for later this week when you come in next.”
I do a quick inventory—matcha is low, the almond butter’s gone, and the protein bars I ordered haven’t shown up. Again.
I catch my reflection in the front window. My tight ponytail, tired eyes, and an apron stained with beet juice. Fuck. I look like something the cat dragged in. This wasn’t exactly the dream, but it’s mine. And it’s still standing.
Just as I’m reaching for the backup ginger shots, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
It’s Parker.
I don’t even hesitate to answer. “Hey, you.”
“I need you to come to the hospital,” he says, his voice light, but with a hint of mischief.
“Why?” I ask, confused. “Can’t you tell me what you need over the phone?”
He chuckles, and the sound of it sends a little shiver down my spine. “Trust me, you’ll want to hear this in person. It’s a favor, and those are always better when they’re asked face to face.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “A favor? What, do you want me to bring you lunch or something?”
“No, nothing that boring,” he teases. “It’s a fun favor, I promise. Trust me.”
