ADDICTED

68

LEAH

A groan rolled out of my tired body. After silencing my alarm, I flipped over and threw my arm across the other side of the bed.

Like yesterday morning, it was stone cold.

I sighed and felt myself sink deep into the white sheets. Despite getting several hours of sleep, I was exhausted.

Every waking moment of the last few days I spent buried in either Foundation work or wedding plans. My mom and Isabelle called me non-stop.

Neither of them was quick to forgive me for such short notice. We'd only been engaged for a few weeks now, so I understood the mental whiplash of our decision to marry on Friday.

My dad ignored me for about half an hour after he learned the news. Then he called me back to say he cleared his work schedule and that I better decide now what color his boutonnière needed to be so he could get it in time.

Despite their grudges, my mother and Isabelle had both helped me find vendors for flowers, get dresses for them, hire a photographer, and order a cake.

I couldn't have done this without them and I was thrilled that this was all coming together.

Painstakingly, maybe. But I didn't care. I was drunk off happiness.

Of course, I was often depressed that my soon-to-be-husband was still gone. I wished he was here to plan with me or at least listen to me ramble about it. He was doing so well, though, and I knew he loved his career. I'd never want to take away from him doing things he loved.

By the end of the week, we'd officially be married.

I'd be a wife.

I'd be a Muller. What a bizarre thought.

On that note, I pushed the covers away and sat up in the bed. I ran my hands over my face and through the knots and kinks in my hair.

A wave of nausea rolled up my throat. I swallowed it back.

Damn wedding nerves.

I knew my anxiety had more to do with his witch of a mother. I had no doubts about James or how incredible of a husband he would be. I even knew what an incredible father he'd be someday.

His mother was just stubborn and unpredictable and kind of elitist. She had bad intentions toward me. I knew she had a right to be upset with me about Jarrod, but I wished she could let that go and be happy for her living son.

She was so hostile when we last talked. And what did she mean about my demons hurting him?

My head throbbed at the unwelcome memory and distress.

Were we rushing into this unnecessarily? Would we regret not having all of our loved ones present?

Then, I thought about what he said—how we could do a formal ceremony in the future. A lot of people did that these days. A delayed ceremony or reception didn't seem like such a bad idea.

All thoughts ceased as the nausea slammed into me again. I stumbled off the bed and hurried to the bathroom.

I barely made it to the sink in time for my stomach to dump its contents. My body seized with dry heaves until I regained control of my body.