Chapter 4 The Unraveling.

"James Sullivan," he introduced himself smoothly. "And you must be the friends Lillian's told me so much about."

Madison gaped at him, her perfectly manicured hand disappearing into his. "You... you actually came."

"Of course," James said, sliding into the empty chair beside me and casually draping his arm around my shoulders. "I'd never miss a chance to be with Lillian. Especially when she's looking this stunning."

His fingertips brushed my bare shoulder, sending an electric current down my spine. I glanced up at him, searching his face for any sign that he was uncomfortable with this charade. Instead, I found only warmth and a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

"How... thoughtful," Brittany managed, her eyes darting between us suspiciously.

James turned to me, with a softening expression. "Sorry hun. I'm late. Traffic was bad." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

The tenderness in his voice caught me off guard. If I didn't know better, I'd think he actually meant it.

"Not at all," I replied, finding my voice. "You're just in time."

Just then, as if it was already planned, a glass slipped. Red wine arced through the air, splashing straight across my dress.

Gasps erupted.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" the waitress stammered, already reaching for napkins, her hands trembling.

The cold soaked in before the sting of embarrassment. My breath caught as I stared down at the deep red stain blooming like a wound across my waist.

*"Damn! Why now..."*

Immediately, James pulled my chair back gently. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, blinking. "No, just...."

He gave me a small smile, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders without hesitation. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Madison and her friends stood frozen, the expression on their faces... guilt written all over.

I smirked. making sure they saw it.

James noticing what was going on whispered, "You got them." as he guided me away from the table.

Awkwardly"What?" "I mean, It's... just something about their faces," I replied quietly. "Almost like they knew this was going to happen."

His eyebrows raised slightly, but he said nothing as we made our way toward the restrooms. The weight of his jacket around my shoulders felt oddly comforting, carrying his scents...

"You should go to the women's room and try to clean up," he suggested. "I'll wait here."

I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the mess on my dress. "Thank you. I'll be quick."

In the restroom, I did my best to blot the wine stain with damp paper towels, but the red had already set into the fabric. The dress was ruined. Then something about my expression changes. I fought back tears of frustration. Not because of the dress, but because somehow, Madison had managed to humiliate me even after all these years.

When I emerged, James was leaning against the wall, checking his phone. He looked up, his eyes assessing the damage on my dress.

"No luck?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.

I shook my head. "This dress is probably done for."

"It's just a dress," he said gently. "You still look beautiful." He said, smiling lightly.

*"That smile again. That seemed to bore through me."*

The sincerity in his voice made me blush. I pulled his jacket tighter around me, feeling grateful for the cover it provided.

"I supposed I should think about heading home," I sighed.

Just then, Madison and Brittany approached, looking suspiciously concerned.

"Oh, Lillian, that stain looks terrible," Madison said with exaggerated sympathy.

"How will you attend the after-party now, such a shame." Brittany added. "ohh I forgot you didn't want to attend it anyway. I wonder why...."

James stepped forward slightly, his body language seemingly protective. "Actually, we won't be able to make the after-party."

I glanced at him in surprise, but his expression remained pleasant and calm, though I noticed a slight tension in his jaw that hadn't been there before.

"Why?" Madison pressed. "It's starting in an hour. Everyone's going so why not."

"I appreciate the invitation," James replied in a polite but firm tone, "but I think we'll have to skip it. Perhaps another time."

He checked his watch, a flicker of unease crossing his features. Was it my imagination, or did he suddenly seem anxious to leave?

Madison's smile faltered. "But-"

"I'm sure you understand," James continued, cutting her off smoothly. His arm slipped around my waist as he spoke, pulling me closer. "We should probably get going, honey."

I remembered what he'd told me during one of our early meetings about the Northstar project. He'd mentioned rather offhandedly that he didn't like company much, preferred to work alone. Said he found most people tedious, though my company was different, which he was still trying to figure out why.

At the time, I'd thought it was just his way of delivering a professional compliment. Now, seeing how eager he was to escape this crowd, those words took on new meaning. Maybe it wasn't just a line.

"Sure," Madison replied, her disappointment poorly concealed. "Another time, then."

As they walked away, James's posture changed subtly. His shoulders tensed, and his breathing quickened.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he replied tersely. "Just need to get some air. Should we head out?"

Before I could answer, he was already guiding me toward the exit, his pace brisk but not quite enough to draw attention.

"You don't actually have to leave with me," I said quickly. "You've already done more than enough."

"It's not that," he said, his voice tight. "I just need to... go."

There was an urgency in his tone that caught me off guard. This wasn't about our charade anymore. Something was wrong.

As we stepped outside the wedding hall into the cool night air, James immediately loosened his tie, taking deep breaths like a man who'd been underwater too long.

"James? What's happening? Are you sick?"

"You could say that," he muttered, moving away from the entrance where other guests were smoking and chatting. "I need to go. Now."

I followed him, concerned. "Let me help you."

"You can't," he said sharply, then softened his tone. "I just need to get home. I'll be fine."

We'd barely made it to the shadowed side of the building when he suddenly doubled over, bracing himself against the wall.

"James!" I rushed to him, alarmed.

He turned away from me, but not before I caught sight of him retching violently. I placed a hand on his back, feeling his muscles spasm beneath his shirt.

"I'm calling an ambulance," I said, reaching for my phone.

"No," he gasped, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. "No ambulance. I'll be fine."

I noticed something alarming. Dark lines, almost like black veins, creeping up his neck from beneath his collar.

He quickly adjusted his shirt, but not before I'd seen the strange transformation happening to his skin.

"James, are you sure you are okay? your... your skin." I stuttered.

"Nothing," he said firmly, straightening up with visible effort. "Just... an allergic reaction. I need to get home and take my medication."

But this was.. I'd never seen an allergic reaction such as this. The veins looked almost like... My mind raced with impossible explanations. But what caused the reaction? he didn't have a bite of any food... perhaps the wine? or.. I don't know.

"You're in no condition to drive," I protested.

"I'll manage," he insisted, fumbling for his keys.

"At least let me drive you," I offered, reaching for the keys.

He pulled away. "I said I'll manage, Lillian." His tone was sharper than I'd ever heard from him, almost a growl.

Just then, Talia appeared with a tall, handsome man I assumed was her boyfriend.

"Lil! There you are!" She exclaimed. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Wait... is something wrong?"

Before I could answer, James doubled over again, this time with a groan that sounded almost inhuman.

"He's sick," I explained quickly. "I think he needs help."

Talia's boyfriend stepped forward. "I'm a doctor. Let me take a look."

"No!" James practically snarled, backing away. "Do not.. touch me. I will be fine."

And with that, he turned and staggered toward the parking lot, moving surprisingly fast for someone so obviously ill.

"James, wait!" I called after him.

But he didn't stop. And disappeared Within moments.

"What the hell was that about?" Talia asked, staring after him.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "But I need to make sure he gets home safely."

His behavior had been bizarre, frightening even. But what scared me more was the thought of him driving in that condition, whatever it was. What if he crashed? What if whatever was happening to him got worse?

"I can't let him go like this," I said, more to myself than to Talia. "It's not safe."

I pulled out my phone to call him, but the call went straight to voicemail. I tried again with the same result.

"I need to follow him," I decided aloud.

"What? Why?" Talia asked, alarmed. "If he didn't want help...."

"Because something's really wrong with him, Tal. And it happened right after he came to rescue me from Madison and Brittany. This is my fault somehow."

"That's ridiculous," Talia argued. "People don't get sick because they pretend to be someone's boyfriend."

I frowned. "How did you know he was pretending?"

Talia rolled her eyes. "Please. You've never mentioned dating anyone, let alone James Sullivan, and suddenly he shows up at a wedding playing the perfect boyfriend? I'm not an idiot, Lil."

"Fine. But pretend or not, I can't just let him drive off like that. he showed up when i needed him the most and least expected. Also, he could hurt himself or someone else in his present condition." I turned to her, seeming desperate. "Can I borrow your car? Please?"

She looked torn, but finally sighed and dug through her purse. "Be careful," she warned, handing me her keys. "And text me when you know he's okay."

"I will. Thanks." I turned to her boyfriend. "Sorry about this. Nice to... almost meet you."

He smiled understandingly. "Sure. We'll talk another time."

I rushed to Talia's car, starting it up quickly. James had only a few minutes' head start. If I hurried, I might be able to catch sight of him on the road.

Pulling out of the parking lot, I scanned the street for his car. Nothing. I took a chance and turned right. The roads were mercifully empty as I pushed the speed limit, keeping my eyes peeled for James's car. After about ten minutes of driving, I caught a glimpse of what I thought might be his car turning onto the highway.

"There you are," I murmured, accelerating to catch up.

The car was indeed James's. I stayed a few car lengths behind, not wanting him to notice me following. His driving was erratic-drifting between lanes occasionally, then correcting with jerky movements. He was definitely not well.

What was happening to him? Those black veins, was he having some kind of toxic reaction really? A rare disease?

I was so focused on following James and my spiraling thoughts that I almost missed the red light. Slamming on the brakes, I screeched to a halt just in time. When the light turned green, I accelerated quickly, worried about losing sight of him.

That's when it happened.

A car from the cross street-someone running a late yellow light-appeared suddenly in my peripheral vision. I swerved instinctively, but it was too late. The sickening crunch of metal on metal filled my ears as the vehicles collided.

The airbag deployed with a deafening bang, knocking the wind out of me. For several moments, I sat stunned, my ears ringing, and dust from the airbag floating around me.

When my senses returned, I realized I was mostly unhurt apart from some bruising, and James's car was long gone.

Shakily, I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car to assess the damage. Talia's once-pristine vehicle had a badly crumpled front end. The other car was an expensive-looking foreign model which had fared even worse, with its entire passenger side caved in.

The driver, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit, was already out of his car, pacing and talking angrily into his phone. He looked unharmed but furious.

"Are you okay?" I called to him, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

He turned to me, his face twisted with rage. "Look what you've done! Do you have any idea how much this car costs?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Sorry doesn't fix my car!" he snapped. "I've already called the police. And my lawyer."

My stomach dropped. "Your lawyer?"

"You bet," the man snarled, gesturing to his forehead where a small cut was bleeding. "Reckless driving, personal injury-you're looking at a lawsuit, lady."

"But you ran the yellow," I protested weakly.

"That's not how the witness sees it," he replied smugly, nodding toward a woman standing nearby, who I hadn't noticed until now. "She says you blew through the red light."

I wanted to argue, but the truth was, I had been distracted. I hadn't been paying proper attention to the road because I was focused on following James.

As I stood there, the reality of my situation began to sink in. I had crashed my best friend's car and was potentially facing legal troubles that could cost me more than a year's salary. And most importantly, I had no idea if James had made it home safely or collapsed somewhere along the way.

What had I seen back there at the wedding? The black veins, the almost inhuman groan... My mind kept circling back to old horror movies Talia and I used to watch in college. The way James had checked his watch, his growing agitation, his desperate need to get away before...

No. That was ridiculous. I dismissed the whatsoever thoughts.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call from Talia. I stared at it, wondering how I would explain all of this to her. How I'd totaled her car chasing after a man who might be... Sick?

The police sirens wailed in the distance as I stood beside the wreckage, still wearing James's jacket over my wine-stained dress, feeling more lost than ever.

And now I was caught in the middle of whatever's going to happen to me now.

*This mess...*

* * *