She doesn’t know what to do with that, I can tell. Her smile is polite, professional, but there’s something else about her that I can’t quite put my finger on. She’s uncomfortable when she has no reason to be. And she looks familiar.
“So. Tommy’s assistant. What’s that like?” I ask, trying to make her feel more comfortable. If she relaxes, maybe she’ll say something that triggers my memory.
“Oh, you know,” she says, vaguely waving her hand and laughing softly. “I mean, you’re the girlfriend.”
There’s a tinge of sarcasm, maybe, or condescension, something distasteful when she says ‘the girlfriend.’
“Giovanna,” I say, heading over to the refrigerator.
“Yes, I know.” When I turn to look at her with a raised eyebrow, she laughs again. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Have you?” I scan the refrigerator contents and pull out a to go container.
“And we met once.”
I frown, opening the container and picking at the noodles with my fingers. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, it was at the New Year’s Eve gala a few years back. Simone Ashford tried to introduce you to Tommy, and he…responded poorly.”
Ah, yes. “I’m sorry, I remember that, but I don’t remember you.” Tommy was a real dick that night, and I was focused solely on him and Simone’s response to his behavior. I don’t remember Una.
Wait,Una… That was the name of the women that the media compared me to the year that the paparazzi snapped pictures of me slapping Tommy. She was the woman he brought. Was she his assistant then? Is that why she looks familiar?
Is she one of the women who sucked his cock when we were broken up? If so, that could explain the attitude, given that he likely said my name when he came.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I eat. Jealousy gnaws at me, but not because she probably sucked his dick. It’s because she’s so organized and together, and she’s likely been taking care of him all these years. Handling his appointments. Managing his details. Helping him respond to people and situations. Putting out his fires.
I don’t like the idea of anyone taking care of him but me.
I’m shoving noodles into my face like a starving person when she suddenly turns to look at me.
She tilts her head. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”
Around my mouthful of noodles, I can barely get out, “I’m fine.”
“Have you done a pregnancy test?” she asks.
I stop chewing and blink, startled. “Why would you say that?”
She clears her throat and does the vague hand wave thing again. “I just meant—it could be a—I mean, in these situations…. Can I get you some water? I’ll get you some water.”
Even though I’m standing in front of the refrigerator, she disappears down the back hallway in a hurry.
What the fuck was that?
Dr. Rossi returns before I can spiral out over this woman and her place in Tommy’s life. His face is drawn tight, and I immediately start to sweat.
“Your results are complete,” he says, opening a thin folder. “All tests are negative for infections.”
I exhale shakily with relief.
He hesitates. “The pregnancy test, however, is positive.”
The floor drops out from under me. I stare at him, my mouth open, but no sound comes out. It’s not a surprise, but hearing it confirmed, it feels like I’m being split open.
My knees buckle, and I sit hard on the edge of the chair, looking up at him pleadingly. “Please don’t tell Tommy,” I whisper.
“Giovanna—”
