2:47 P.M., PST
Anna groaned. Her throat was on fire and her stomach muscles ached. She forced herself to open her eyes, but the bright sunlight streaming in through the picture window of her bedroom was so painful that she quickly shut them again.
So. At least she knew where she was: at her father’s house, in her own bed. She remembered getting dog sick in Venice. She remembered coming to in the back of the SUV. She remembered Sam sitting next to her, filing her nails and explaining that she had volunteered to stay with Anna, not to be nice, but so she could get out of cleaning up.
When Anna had opened her mouth to thank Sam, she’d puked all over again. And that was pretty much the last thing she remembered.
Anna opened her eyes and managed to keep them open. She struggled to a sitting position but felt so weak that she slumped back against the pillows.
“Here, let me help you,” came a baby wisp of a voice.
Dee? Dee was in the room with her? Dee, of all people?
Yes, Dee. She rushed over from the chaise longue to help ease Anna up. Then she gently plumped the pillows behind her head.
“Thanks,” Anna croaked.
“Take it easy,” Dee counseled as she gave her a bottle of Gatorade. “Drink this for the electrolytes. Baby sips, or you might hurl again.”
“Thank you.” Anna took a few sips and then cleared her throat. “Very much.”
“Well, that sounds a little better.” Dee sat on the edge of Anna’s bed. “How crappy do you feel?”
“Extremely. How did I get home?” Anna put a hand on her stomach. It was bare. “And undressed?”
“Oh, we helped you.”
“We?”
“Me and Sam. Cammie was covered with puke, so she had to go home. You even got her hair,” Dee added cheerfully. “Nice shot.”
Anna closed her eyes again. Oh God. That she remembered.
“Not that Cammie would’ve helped you, anyway,” Dee added. “What with you stealing her boyfriend and everything.”
There was a soft knock on the door; Anna’s father stuck his head inside. “Oh, good. You’re awake!”
“Sort of,” Anna said.
“How do you feel?”
“Awful. But not as awful.”
“You had a mean case of food poisoning,” her father explained.
“From what? All I ate was a yogurt from your refrigerator.”
“We found the container in the SUV,” Dee explained. “The expiration date was in November.”
Jonathan winced. “My housekeeper two housekeepers ago lived on that stuff. I fired her around Halloween.”
“But it tasted fine,” Anna protested.
Dee nodded. “That’s lemon yogurt for you. It’s tart whether it’s good or bad.”
Anna’s father grinned at Dee. “Good thing Anna made such a great friend so quickly.”
“Well, she’s pretty special,” Dee said.
Anna’s head reeled. Maybe she was dreaming. Dee was sitting at her bedside, telling her father how special she was.
“Think you can handle tea, Anna?” her father asked. “And maybe some dry toast?”
Anna was touched. “That would be great, Dad. Thanks.”
“Margaret told me to ask you. I’ll go tell her. Be back soon.” Her father closed the door behind him as he departed.
Margaret. Tea and toast hadn’t even been her father’s idea. Swell.
Dee stood up and stretched, exposing her navel ring. “Wow. Your father’s hot. How old is he?”
“Could we discuss my father later? Can you please fill me in on what happened?”
“Oh, sure. You know, you ought to think about bringing in a feng shui consultant for this room.”
“Dee—”
“All right. It’s just bad energy to have your bed facing north like that.”
Dee’s mangled Eastern philosophy was making Anna queasy all over again. “Dee, could you please just stick to the story?”
“Oh, okay, sure. Well, you puked again in the back of the SUV. Do you remember that part? Sam’s jeans are history. I had some yoga pants in the back of my car, so she changed into those. But they’re an extra small, so they were really, really tight on her, which wasn’t very attractive, and I felt so bad for her, you know? I would have brought some in a large if I had known—”
“Dee.” Anna’s head was pounding. “Can you maybe give me the short version?”
“Oh yeah. Out here it’s called coverage. Anyway, Mrs. Breckner called her family doctor and he said you wouldn’t die from eating bad yogurt, so we could just take you home. So we did.”
“Define ‘we’ one more time.”
“Monty, Sam, and me,” Dee recited. “You don’t remember that part?”
“Some of it. I kept falling asleep and waking up and—”
“Wow.” Dee’s eyes got enormous. “You mean you don’t remember the stuff you said?”
Anna shook her head.
“You were mumbling something about fucking Ben.”
Anna threw a hand over her eyes. “I didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t make something like that up.”
Anna had zero recollection of saying anything about Ben, much less about having sex with him. Which she hadn’t. Maybe she’d been using fucking as an adjective. Fucking Ben. Like that.
“Anyway, what happened with you and Ben last night?”
“Look, Dee, I appreciate that you helped me when I was sick. And I appreciate that you stayed with me—”
“Oh, well. I’m a nice person. Even if you don’t really like someone, it’s too mean to just, like, leave them.” Dee sat on the edge of Anna’s bed. “But you were just about to tell me what happened with you and Ben last night. Did you do him?”
“That’s not really any of your business, Dee.”
“Yeah, actually it is. You think you know Ben, but you don’t.”
“Believe me, Dee. I have no illusions that I know him.”
“But you know where he is.”
Anna’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I called him this morning, and his mom said he never came home last night. So where is he?”
Anna exhaled slowly. “I don’t know, Dee.” The pain and humiliation of last night came rushing back. Anna sipped her Gatorade defensively.
Dee stood up and put her hands on her hips. “What is it with you people? It’s because I’m short, isn’t it?”
Anna shook her head. “Sorry, what?”
“No one takes me seriously. Not Cammie, not Sam, not you.”
“Dee, I—”
“Just because a person is spiritual and short doesn’t make her stupid, okay? Ben told you not to tell me where he is, right?”
What? “No, of course not.”
“Bullshit.” Dee got up and paced Anna’s gleaming hardwood floor. “Yes. That’s exactly what happened. You’re covering for him.”
“Dee, I have no idea what you’re—”
“I know you don’t. No one does. Except Ben.” Dee looked almost smug. “And you thought it was Cammie you had to worry about. I let you think that. I let everyone think that.” She stood at the foot of Anna’s bed and blew her wispy bangs off her forehead. “It’s like this. Six weeks ago Ben and I hooked up at Princeton.”
Anna tried to wrap her mind around this piece of news. “You did?”
“I was on a college tour with my parents. I’m not going to Princeton, but there’s this really good junior college near there. So anyway, I called Ben. Just a friendly phone call, you know? So he invited me for a drink. So I went.” She dropped her hands from her diminutive hips. “And we ended up having a lot more than a drink.”
Anna was starting to feel queasy again. “Could you please just tell me whatever it is you’re trying to tell me, Dee?”
“Sure. It’s pretty simple. I’m pregnant. And it’s Ben’s baby.”