“Something about the placenta—we have to watch it, but for now it’s okay. Shay can even come home soon.” His smile is crooked. “And the baby’s just fine.”
Carmen starts crying harder, and Arturo starts too. I might be an informally adopted sibling, but I realize sometimes I need to butt out and let them have a minute.
I walk out into the corridor and catch the attention of the nearest nurse. “Can Shay Gillespie-Ortiz have visitors yet?”
The answer comes from someone standing behind me, “Not right now.”
I turn around to see the obstetrician, a young woman wearing a doctor’s long white coat with the name tag Dr. Rosalind Campbell. She’s smiling, which ought to be the only thing that matters. But it isn’t.
I’ve seen this woman before. She was wearing white then, too. I saw her the night of the charity gala, first when we complimented each other’s dresses—and then when she left, with Jonah’s arm around her.
Eighteen
At first all I can think is, of course she’s a doctor. Rosalind Campbell, the woman in Jonah’s life, is stunningly beautiful, has impeccable taste in clothing, is friendly with strangers, and practices medicine. Couldn’t she at least have a wart or something?
But concern for Shay and the baby quickly eclipses my pettiness. “Arturo said she had something wrong with her placenta—isn’t that serious? Does she have to stay in the hospital?”
Rosalind puts her hand on my shoulder for a moment as she begins walking, tactfully leading me farther away from the patient area. “I realize you’re a close friend, but I can’t divulge a patient’s personal information to anyone but her next of kin. However, if you want to know about placenta previa in general—it’s what happens when the placenta is located wholly or primarily in the lower part of the uterus. At this later stage of pregnancy, the placenta can rub against the unfolding uterus, and bleeding can occur. The condition occurs in varying degrees of seriousness, from mothers requiring immediate C-section to those we can monitor on an outpatient basis.”
Arturo already said Shay could come home soon, so she must be on the less dangerous end of the scale. I breathe out in relief. “It helps to know that. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Rosalind says. “And—forgive me, but do I know you? I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met before.”
“Um. Yeah.” Until very recently I was acting out violent sexual fantasies with your boyfriend. “We ran into each other at the public interest law benefit last weekend. In the restroom. We had mutual dress envy.”
Instantly Rosalind’s eyes light up. “That gorgeous green silk. Of course! Do you know, I looked for one like it online? No luck so far.” Politely she holds out her hand. “Rosalind Campbell.”
As we shake hands, I say, “Vivienne Charles.”
Rosalind’s smile widens, and her fingers give mine a tiny, conspiratorial squeeze. “Oh! So you’re Jonah’s Vivienne.”
She knows who I am. She’s not angry. She called me Jonah’s Vivienne. “Excuse me?”
“I’m the guilty one who stole him as my date the other night.” Rosalind shrugs, smiling. “Hope you didn’t mind. What a pity we didn’t run into you together—we could’ve met then, under less stressful circumstances.”
Rosalind was Jonah’s date, but she knows Jonah and I have been together, and she doesn’t mind, and I understand exactly zero of this. “We need to talk. Do you have a minute?”
Although Rosalind seems surprised by my question, she nods. “Sure.”
She leads me into a nearby examination room, empty and awaiting its next patient. Rosalind closes the door behind us and—perhaps by habit—I sit on the patient’s table, while she claims the doctor’s chair. It’s like I’ve come to her for a diagnosis.
“All right,” Rosalind says, “what’s this about? You don’t look like you’re about to tell me where you bought your gown.”
“It’s about Jonah—”
“Oh, no.” She holds her hands up to ward off my next words. “I don’t give romantic advice to anyone. Never turns out well.”
“That’s not what I meant. Just—Jonah obviously told you about me, but he never told me about you. I didn’t see you with him until the two of you left the benefit together, and—I guess I don’t understand your relationship.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, no, no! Jonah and I are friends. That’s all.”
“Just friends?” My voice sounds more skeptical than I meant for it to. It’s hard for me to imagine any woman being near Jonah and not wanting to rip his clothes off.
Rosalind begins to smile. “I happen to be very much in love with one of the best chefs in town—and luckily for me, she’s not the jealous type.”