Page 158 of Diego

“I like knowing what things cost.”

“You’re a real estate broker.”

“Exactly. Numbers matter.”

“You negotiate multimillion-dollar properties.”

“Which is why I know better than to spend twelve hundred dollars on pants.”

Donna, from inside a fitting room, calls out, “Those are going to be the best pants you've ever worn, I promise.”

“So are my sweats. That doesn't mean I'll pay twelve hundred dollars for them.”

“It kind of does.”

I laugh and shake my head, but another cramp catches me before I can answer. This one is sharper than the others, enough to make me stop and brace one hand against the fitting-room wall while I wait for it to ease.

It does, although more slowly this time.

A dull ache lingers behind after the sharper part passes, and I stand there for a moment, breathing normally and trying to decide whether I am beginning to worry simply because Donna and Julia have been watching me.

Maybe I ate too much.

Maybe I have been on my feet too long.

Maybe pregnancy is simply one long series of bodily complaints nobody adequately warns you about.

The ache eases enough that I change back into my leggings and sweater and step out. Donna is now seated with her feet propped on a small ottoman while one of the employees brings her another cup of tea, and Julia is sorting through a pile of clothes on the sofa.

“You disappeared,” Julia says.

“The jeans and I had a disagreement.”

“What kind?”

“The financial kind.”

Donna laughs and points toward a garment bag. “We picked your two things.”

I look at the bags. “There are four.”

“Two are mine.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but Donna manages an expression of such complete innocence that it circles all the way around to suspicious.

“Do I even want to ask?”

“No,” Julia says.

I walk toward the sofa and reach for one of the bags, still smiling despite myself.

I stop and press my hand to my stomach.

This time, the cramp does not disappear after a few seconds. It builds steadily enough that my smile fades, and I grip the back of the sofa while I wait for the pressure to ease.

“Blair?”

Donna’s voice reaches me from across the room.