Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Portland is far away,” Stella pointed out. “Are you going to do the long distance thing or will one of you move?”
“We haven’t really talked about that yet,” I confessed. “It’s all pretty new, but”—I put my hand on my chest again—“I feel this, you guys. In my bones. This is the real thing.”
Both of them smiled.
“I’m happy for you,” Emme said. “Maybe now your nightmares will stop.”
“I hope so.” I didn’t mention that I’d had it both nights Dallas had been with me.
“I wish I could meet him,” Stella said.
“Same,” Emme added. “When does he leave? Is there time?”
“Tomorrow, I think. Would you guys be able to meet us for dinner tonight?” I felt a little guilty floating the invitation since I’d offered to spend the night in with Dallas, but I really wanted to show him off to my sisters.
“Nate and I can,” Emme said. “He’ll be back from taking Paisley home by three.”
“I could check with Walter.” Stella pulled out her phone and began typing a message. “What are you thinking for time?”
“Seven?” I shrugged.
She finished typing and set her phone next to her coffee cup. “He’s usually pretty quick to get back to me.”
“Hey, I’m going up to Abelard next week to book some wedding stuff. Either of you guys want to go?” Emme looked back and forth between Stella and me.
“During the week?” Stella asked.
“That’s the plan. Probably Wednesday to Friday. I’ve got events over the weekend.”
“I took this weekend off, so I don’t know about taking days off next week too,” I said hesitantly. “But it would be fun. I’ll try.”
Stella’s phone pinged and she picked it up. “Dinner at seven works for us.”
I smiled. “Great. Let me run it by Dallas and then I’ll text you guys a time and place.”
We finished brunch, opened up our umbrellas on the sidewalk, and ran through the rain in opposite directions for our cars. As soon as I was in mine, I pulled out my phone and called Dallas. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message.
“Hey. I know I said we’d stay in tonight, but I just saw my sisters and they’re dying to meet you. Do you hate the idea of having dinner with them and their boyfriends tonight? Nate and Walter are both really nice, and I think it would be fun. Let me know, okay? Hope you’re feeling better.” I hung up and dropped my phone into my purse.
On the drive home, I couldn’t help thinking about what Stella had said—that what had happened to Dallas yesterday morning had sounded like some kind of seizure. Could she be right? His claim that it was just a dizzy spell had made sense to me at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more worried I became that it wasn’t so easily explained. When you’re dizzy, you close your eyes, right? His had remained open. And even when you’re dizzy, you can talk. Dallas hadn’t responded the first few times I’d said his name. Almost as if he hadn’t heard me.
It wasn’t like me to panic over something like this, but when I got home, I texted Stella.
Me: Hey what kind of seizure did you say that sounded like?
Stella: A focal aware seizure.
I grabbed my laptop and googled it. The first site that came up was related to epilepsy awareness. I read the entire section on focal seizures, and I still wasn’t sure if that’s what had happened to Dallas. He’d seemed to have some of the symptoms described but not others. And wouldn’t Dallas have been diagnosed with epilepsy as a kid?
I researched it a little more, learning that epilepsy could start at any age, and although there was no cure, the seizures could usually be managed with drug therapy, surgery, or changes in diet. Occasionally the condition just went away on its own.
Biting my lip, I set my laptop aside and wondered if that’s what was going on with Dallas and he was too proud or embarrassed to tell me. Knowing him, it seemed likely, and I wished more than anything he would open up to me. I didn’t want to have such a giant secret between us, mucking up our new beginning. But what could I do?
If I were Emme, I’d probably run right to him and demand to know the truth. But I’d always been more patient and even-tempered than my hot-headed sister. If I were Stella, I’d probably find a way to bring it up in conversation that would naturally lead to an admission. But Stella had training and a way with words that I didn’t. She knew how to get people to talk. I was too nervous about saying the wrong thing.
I got up from the couch and checked my phone—no reply yet from Dallas. Disappointed, I decided to spend the next hour meditating.