“And how are things at the office?” she asks.
“They’re fine,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow. “Are they?”
“What have you heard?” I knew she must have been keeping tabs on me. I’m surprised she didn’t call me and tell me everything I was doing wrong.
“Nothing,” she says. “I’ve been in a complete media blackout. Doing what the doctor said. But I figured since you’re here, things aren’t going well.”
“No . . . well, yes. But it’s fine. I can figure it out. I don’t want to bother you,” I say, feeling slightly relieved that she hasn’t been making a list of grievances to hold over my head.
Marcus comes outside, carrying two full glasses of lemonade. He hands one to Simone before handing one to me and then takes a seat next to his wife.
“Not a bother. We’re all good here,” she says, looking at Marcus, who gives her a loving smile.
Yep. It’s definitely a cult.
“Does that mean you’re coming back?” I ask, hopeful.
I see Marcus shake his head first before Simone joins in.
“Oh no,” she says. “I’ve got eight more weeks until this little guy gets here.”
She rubs her belly.
I sit up, my eyes wide. I look to Marcus and then Simone, who are both smiling now.
“You’re pregnant?” I ask, needing to clarify even though she basically just told me.
Simone was told she could never have children. I never asked, but I’d guessed she’d given up on it. She’s been mostly private about her personal life, though she’d make the occasional joke that her job was her child and that managing clients often felt like dealing with a toddler.
“I am,” she says.
“I thought—”
“It was the shock of our lives,” Marcus interjects.
“I was nearly four months when I found out,” Simone says. “I’ve never had a regular period, so I just figured it was that. And the little bugger is in my back, so I couldn’t feel him move until recently.”
“Her blood pressure was higher, but nothing too concerning, until around the six-month mark. That’s when they got worried,” says Marcus.
“And that’s when I was told to rest,” Simone adds.
“We’re not in the clear, but better,” Marcus says.
Translation: Don’t stress out his wife.
“The partners know; we told them a couple of weeks ago,” Simone says. “But we wanted to wait a bit longer before sharing with everyone else.”
“I understand,” I say. She doesn’t need to explain. My mom had preeclampsia with Ryan, and while I was too young to remember,she certainly likes to remind us. It’s the reason she wouldn’t give me the sister I begged her for when I was younger, usually when Ryan would wipe his boogers on me.
“So what’s going on at Harrow & Finch?” Simone asks, taking a sip of her lemonade.
“It’s . . . all good,” I say. I’m not about to burden her with the corner I’m trapped in right now. It surely wouldn’t be healthy for her. I’m not sure if it’s all that healthy for me.
Maybe I should really consider that mattress-testing job.
Simone tilts her head to the side. “Let’s hear it, Claire,” she says.
