“And yet everyone is still different. Willa didn’t get sick really, but was fatigued the whole pregnancy.”
“She was?”
How did he know this? Why didn’t I notice? I wear my unwell-ness on my skin, in the form of greenish pallor and plum circles under my eyes. I look like death, which is probably another reason Maxim has been hovering so much.
“There’s medicine for this, Ness was on it. Go to a doctor, you need to be able to eat and sleep so the baby can grow. The medicine will help you.”
“She still has some? Pills?”
Nate takes a bite of bagel and nods.
“Great, can you bring them to me?”
“I think sharing prescriptions is illegal,” he says.
I stare unblinking at him until he’s done chewing, and the irony of what he said dawns on him.
He rolls his eyes. “Right. You don’t care.”
Greta makes her sleepy appearance, jumping onto the counter and meowing at Nate who just melts for the cat, scratching her so enthusiastically that her fur ends up floating in tiny clumps around them as they fall to the shiny countertop.
“I promise I’ll go to Dr. Judd,” I say. She’s Willa and Vanessa’s doctor, a completely lovely woman. Not Italian, but she’s family enough by now. My dad trusted her. “But not yet, okay? Soon.”
“You have three days before I tell your sister, and that’s generous.”
“Asshole,” I mutter. Three days is generous, though. He can’t keep secrets from my sister for shit. He told me and Leo he was planning something great for a proposal, but the day he pickedup the ring, he got too excited and proposed as soon as she got home.
“So can we go get the drugs? Like now.” I nod down at his car keys. He’s still driving that old banged up Prius, though he promised my sister he’d upgrade to one of the bigger, safer cars when the baby is born.
Nate looks at Greta like she’ll be sympathetic to what he has to put up with. She rubs her head on his cheek and he melts all over again.
“Nate,” I snap. He sighs and gives the cat one last loud kiss on the head before taking his keys and half of his bagel with him in the direction of the elevator.
“If you throw up in the Prius, I’ll never forgive you.”
35
MARY
The medicine is calledZofran and it helps immensely. By the time Maxim came home to share dinner, I was able to eat for once and did not fear I was going to throw up. I was still tired, though, from all the not sleeping I’ve been doing, so when I sat down on the couch next to a reading Maxim, I fell directly to sleep. When I woke, I was alone on the couch, but now with a pillow under my head, a blanket tucked in around me, and Greta two inches away from suffocating me on my chest.
It was darker, the house quiet, and there were no signs of Maxim who, last I remembered, I had been using as a pillow.
On the coffee table, I found a note written in his surprisingly neat cursive that read,Dealing with trouble at the Brickyard. Sleep well.
And, reasonably, since I haven’t felt this healthy in three weeks, I grab the keys to one of Maxim’s cars and head straight over. I’m still wearing his shirt and a pair of bike shorts, so by no means club attire, but the bouncer doesn’t bat an eye before he lets me in with a polite, “Good to see you, Mrs. Orlov.”
I don’t find Maxim in his office upstairs, but as I’m trekking back down to the main floor, Sasha finds me at the bottom of thestairs. His sleeves are rolled up, shirt unbuttoned a few times, and his hair mussed, too.
“Hot date?” I yell loud enough for him to hear over the music.
“I wish.”
“Have you been fighting?”
“Something like that.” He jerks his head toward the hall next to the bar and I follow him there. It’s the same way Maxim led me on Christmas Eve when I was having a panic attack. I’m calm now, collected, albeit curious.
Instead of the back door to the alley, we turn left and descend two flights of stairs and Sasha opens a thick metal door using a code I don’t see him enter but am sure he would tell me if I asked.
