Page 151 of Diego

“Take your day off.”

“I have clients.”

“They will still be there tomorrow.”

I almost laugh. “You two don’t even know me.”

Donna eases into one of the dining chairs with the care of someone who’s carrying a lot of weight in their front.

Oh God, that's how I'm going to be in a few months.

“That seems easily fixable,” she says.

I stare at her, then at Julia.

They are serious.

“Look, I appreciate whatever this is,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “but I really do have things I need to finish.”

Julia walks to the table, closes my laptop, and slides it gently away from me.

My mouth drops open.

She smiles. “Now you don’t.”

I look at Donna. “Is she always like this?”

“Yes.”

Julia looks pleased. “Thank you.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“I will take it as one anyway.”

I am annoyed. Or I should be anyway. The problem is that some traitorous part of me is also beginning to find them funny, and I am determined not to reward that behavior.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Donna studies me for a moment. “How have you been feeling?”

The question stops me for a second as I reach for my laptop.

“Fine.”

Both women give me the same look.

I sigh. “Tired. Nauseous sometimes. Fine. A lot. Busy. Stressed. Pick one.”

“Any favorite foods suddenly become disgusting?” Julia asks.

“Chicken.”

Donna grimaces sympathetically. “Mine was eggs for a while.”

“I can still eat eggs.”

“Give it time.”