Page 155 of Diego

“It’s usually pretty relevant when buying clothes.”

I look at Donna for backup and realize immediately that was a mistake when she nods in agreement.

“You’re both terrible.”

I go back into the fitting room and change before they can talk me into anything else. Over the next hour, somehow, I try on six dresses, four pairs of trousers, three sweaters, two blouses, jeans, a coat I insist I absolutely do not need, and something Donna calls “the emergency black dress” because apparently every pregnant woman needs one. For some reason.

Donna tries on almost as much, although getting in and out of clothes takes her longer and involves a great deal more commentary.

“I swear this baby moves every time I bend over.”

Julia is standing directly outside Donna's fitting room, keeping a close eye on the very pregnant woman. “Maybe the baby is protesting your technique.”

“My technique is excellent.”

“You nearly fell into the curtain a few minutes ago.”

“The curtain moved.”

“Curtains do that. That's why we don't lean on them.”

Donna sticks her head out. “Whose side are you on?”

“The baby’s.”

I am laughing hard enough by then that I have to sit down, and for the first time in days I realize I have gone almost an hour without thinking about Diego.

The realization surprises me.

So does how much I like them.

Donna is blunt without being cruel; Julia has a way of saying something completely unreasonable, but sounding perfectly reasonable while doing so. And neither of them treats me like an outsider they have been ordered to entertain.

They do not ask me what I plan to do about Diego. They do not defend him. They do not tell me I should understand his position, forgive him, or be grateful that he wants to protect me. They simply let me be here with them, and it is easier than I expected.

A dull cramp catches me low in the abdomen as I stand to reach for another sweater. I pause with my hand halfway toward the hanger, waiting as a tight little ache settles across my lower stomach and then fades again within several seconds.

It is mild enough that I dismiss it almost immediately.

My body has been doing strange things for weeks. Nausea, dizziness, exhaustion, food aversions. One more odd sensation hardly seems worth worrying about, especially when I have been running on irregular meals and too much work for days.

The boutique employee returns carrying garment bags from the front and starts setting aside the pieces Donna has chosen. I notice my black dress among them.

I have to admit that I find the idea of trying it on rather exciting.

And apparently Donna sees that. “You're definitely getting that one.”

“I didn’t say I was buying it.”

Donna looks over from where Julia is comparing two sweaters. “I did.”

I turn toward her. “No.”

She blinks innocently. “No what?”

“No buying me clothes.”

“You need clothes.”