Page 76 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Isabella looks so frail. If the machines weren’t beeping with her various stats, I might actually think she wasn’t even here anymore. The rapid decline in her appearance since she collapsed in my arms has brought a heavy sense of dread to sit squarely on my chest.

I squeeze her hand in mine and shake my head to try to clear away the cobwebs filling it after so long without sleep. She should be awake by now. And I’d give anything to have her open her eyes, even if it’s to glare at me. Anything to hear her voice, even if it’s to continue to accuse me of being a selfish jerk and scream in my face.

Maybe I am.

Even mentioning the possibility of her moving her opening date was a dick move.

A huge dick move.

If she had asked me to do that same thing under the circumstances, I would have told her to fuck off and assumed she didn’t give a shit about me. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

God, I hope she doesn’t believe that.

I squeeze her hand again and sigh. “Wake up, Iz. Come on.”

The longer I wait, the more hopeless the situation feels. But after sitting here for hours and hours with no response from her, her fingers wrap around mine and finally squeeze back.

I jerk my head up and meet her confused gaze. Green eyes flick back and forth, unfocused and hazy. I give her a second to acclimate herself to the sights and sounds of the room.

She swallows thickly. “Did I pass out?”

I nod and bite back the bitterness that wants to come out with my question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She sighs, and a single tear trickles down her cheek to the shitty hospital pillow. “Because I didn’t want you to pity me or think I’m a damn invalid.”

Pity her?

Pity definitely isn’t the word for what I’m feeling right now, and I open my mouth to argue, but she shakes her head, more tears falling.

“Don't. Don't pity me or try to deny it. I see it in your eyes.”

“That's concern, Iz, not pity.” I use my free hand to pull back the sheet covering her and expose the tube coming from her abdomen. “Is this what you were trying to hide from me?”

If she had let me take her shirt off or even lift it slightly, I would have felt it for sure, and I definitely would have had questions. Because until the doctor and Ashley told me what was going on, I was fucking clueless.

She squeezes her eyes shut again. “I didn't want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. I’ve always worn a body shaper to keep it concealed under clothing, and so it doesn’t get caught on anything. I didn’t want to have to answer a thousand questions that would have made you see me differently.”

“It wouldn’t have made me see you any differently.”

“Bullshit.” Her eyes flutter open, and she motions down to the tube. “This is not sexy. And as soon as you saw it, anything we were doing would have ground to a halt. I just wanted to be a girl who was attracted to a guy and got to have great sex.”

I waggle my eyebrows playfully. “Great, huh?”

She chuckles and winces. “Don’t let it go to your head. I’m surprised they even let you in here.”

A smirk pulls at my lips, and I brush my thumb over the top of her hand. “I told them I was your fiancé. It helped that the admitting nurse is a big fan of Prime Chef.”

The tiniest of smiles hits her mouth but doesn't quite reach her eyes.

“But the doctor has been a little tightlipped about your condition. When I asked what was wrong, I think he was surprised I didn't know since it wouldn’t exactly be easy to hide that you’re in kidney failure from someone you’re about to marry.”

She flinches slightly at my words, but I can't fight back the anger that rises in me. It’s hard not to get mad when I think about what’s been going on for weeks and weeks.

“What were you thinking, Iz? You've been working insane late hours and pushing yourself nonstop for weeks. I’m fucking exhausted doing the same thing with way more help than you do. And I’m not sick.”

Her tears fall in earnest now, and she takes another shaky breath. “This isn't something new, Jameson. My mother died of the same thing when she was even younger than me. I knew what was coming. And when I finally hit stage five and had to go on daily dialysis, I knew it was only a matter of time before that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Why haven't you had a transplant?”

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