“I’m fine, Amanda. Really.”
She studies me for a long moment. Her sharp, assessing gaze moving over my face like she’s reading a brief. Sweat forms at my hairline.
“You’re pale,” she says.
“I’m always pale.”
Amanda purses her lips for a long moment. “You’re pale and you’re green. Tell me, when’s the last time you’ve been to a doctor?”
“Like, in general?”
“Like, in general.”
I want to duck into the nearest hallway and run. But her tone makes it clear that she’s not going to leave me alone until she’s got an answer that satisfies her.
“It’s been a long time. Could never really afford it. Hotel work didn’t have much in the way of insurance.”
“Gabriel can arrange an appointment,” she says without hesitation. “I’ll mention it to him. I’m sure he’ll be able to have one for you by the end of the day.”
“No.” The word comes out way too fast. “Please, don’t. He’s got enough to worry about right now. I don’t want him thinking I’m falling apart.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she nods slowly. “Alright. But you need to take care of yourself, Thea. Whatever’s going on, you’re no use to anyone if you’re running yourself into the ground. And please tell Gabriel if it gets worse. He plays it cool, but he’d never forgive himself for not getting you checked out if it’s something more serious than stress.”
“I know. I will.”
She stops and turns toward me, looking me up and down. I feel like I’m naked in front of her, like she’s got ultrasound eyes and can see right inside of me.
“I have a meeting with Gabriel about some legal matters. If you need anything, I’ll be around.”
I clear my throat. “Thank you for checking on me.”
She nods. “Thea, anything you tell me stays between us. I’m a lawyer. I’m good at compartmentalizing information.”
Something I can’t quite name flickers in her expression. Then she turns and heads toward Gabriel’s office.
I wait until she’s gone.
Then I go find Maria.
She’s in the laundry room, running sheets through the press and quietly humming to herself.
“Maria?”
She looks up, her eyes scanning my face. I’m still pale, a little clammy and sweaty. Her expression immediately shifts into maternal concern.
“Dio mio, you look terrible. Sit, sit down.”
“I’m fine.” I step into the room and close the door behind me. “I need to ask you something. And I need a little discretion.”
She says nothing, simply nodding. I take a breath.
“I need a pregnancy test.”
Silence. Her expression moves through several phases in quick succession—surprise, understanding, compassion. Then she reaches out and pats my hand with both of hers.
“Capisco,” she says softly. “You need me to go to the pharmacy?”
“I can’t go myself.”
