The morning of the engagement gala arrived with the kind of gray, heavy stillness that felt like a warning. Willow woke long before her alarm, her body stiff, her mind already bracing for the day. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the familiar tight coil of nausea gathering low in her stomach. She swallowed through it and sat up slowly, waiting for the room to steady.
It didn't.
Her head throbbed dully, her skin felt too warm, and her legs were uncooperative for a breath too long. She gripped the edge of the mattress until the dizziness eased, forcing herself to breathe through the uncomfortable waves. Last night had been restless—shallow half-sleep, flashes of Miles' voice, Zane's arms, Christy's brittle smile. It all tangled together into a haze she didn't want to examine.
