Harper woke with a cough. Water shot from her mouth and raked at her throat. Why is it so bright?

As her eyes fought against the warm water, she realized she was in the shower. Her elbow and temple ached, but there was no trace of pink in the water. I fainted again.

She didn’t know how long she’d been crumpled on the gray wet tiles, but it hadn’t been long enough for the water to go cold. A purple shampoo bottle lay beside her. It oozed a rich, bubbling froth.

Harper pushed herself to a seated position and pulled herself onto the wooden shower bench. She hadn’t locked the bathroom door and it was still firmly shut. At least Sean didn’t realize, she thought.

As soon as she turned off the shower, she began to shiver. She wrapped her hair in a towel and slipped into the white Egyptian cotton robe. Thank god for en-suites, she thought. It was the only reason he hadn’t heard what must have been a terrible crash.

While Harper dried off, she pulled an old favorite white t-shirt from the dresser. It had been one of her staples in the days when she had an average of six go-sees per day. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and delighted at how pronounced her hip bones and ribs were. She could count each rung that flanked her sternum like a ladder.

She paused before the mirror, the shirt caught at her breasts, and pressed her palm into her concave stomach. It was almost unbelievable that there was a life in there. Harper turned to the side to see her figure in profile. That’s when it was always the most striking, with no bones splayed wide. The ant-sized waist was still there. Once, a designer had asked her how long she’d waist trained. It was before Harper even knew what that was.

What would it be like to grow something inside of your body? she thought. Obviously, it would include getting fat. She knew that, had read about the relaxin that flooded the body and urged the pelvic bones to spread apart. No matter what, even if she lost the exact amount of weight she put on after the baby, there was no piecing the bones back together.

But wouldn’t it be worth it? Worth it to have Sean’s baby? Harper’s breath caught at the idea of it. This wasn’t just a baby, or even just her baby. It was her and Sean’s baby. And it might be the last chance you get.

The fact that she could even get pregnant was a miracle. She could count how many times she’d had a period in the past ten years. “You have to tell him,” she told her reflection. He might be angry, but he’d be rightfully enraged if he found out she’d waited to tell him. Unless it’ll just be a miscarriage, she thought. That was a stark reality she had to consider. Harper had known countless girls in the industry who miscarried regularly. Of course, they’d been trying to get pregnant.

On the other hand, if she miscarried relatively early, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting fat. She hadn’t even Googled yet how many calories she was supposed to have as a pregnant woman who didn’t want to gain excess weight. Some models did it, she told herself. Hell, look at Heidi Klum. Some of them were back on Sports Illustrated covers three months after giving birth.

But Harper knew that came from surgeries she couldn’t afford and genes she didn’t have. Genetically, she wasn’t supposed to be this thin. Every woman in her family had an hourglass shape, but they carried their curves well. She’d had to shed every ounce she could spare to look like this, and it hadn’t been easy.

Harper shook her head and pulled down the shirt. She grabbed a pair of jeans so worn-in that they felt like flannel. Pleased that they still fit, that the jeans she’d bought at fifteen still hugged her like a second skin, she took one last admiring look in the mirror. The thigh gap was prominent even in the denim. Can I really give that up?

In the living room, she curled up on the couch and opened her laptop. It was full of responses from employers, but she could tell from the subject lines and snippets of opening text that they were all rejections. “Thank you for your application. Unfortunately the position has been filed …” and “we will keep your resume on file for the next six months …”

“Fuck you,” she said under her breath.

“You’re chipper this morning.” She jumped at Sean’s voice behind her.

“Jesus, you’re like a cat,” she said.

“More like you’re addicted to that thing,” he said.

She sighed. “I’ve been job hunting,” she said. “Unsuccessfully.”

“You are? What kind of jobs?”

“At this point, anything anywhere they’ll take me,” she said.

Sean settled onto the couch beside her. “What about modeling?” he asked. “I know the last thing you had fell apart, but I figured—”

“I got fired. Permanently. Basically blacklisted from the industry.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that.”

Her face burned. I was on my way to tell you that when you got arrested! “It’s complicated,” she finally said.

“Try me.”

“Okay,” she said as she let out a breath. “I’m not thin enough anymore. I’m not young enough. Alright? I’m fat, I’m old, and I was never famous enough for anyone to overlook that.”

“That’s insane,” he said. It was simple, and she could tell that for him it was true.

“Yeah, well. Tell my former bosses that,” she said. “Tell the designers. The agents.”

“Well … what are you thinking of doing instead? Besides anything anywhere, of course.”

“I don’t actually know,” she said. “If it wasn’t for this … arrangement … I don’t even know where I’d be right now. I’m running out of money and there are even fewer options. I can’t even get a job as a waitress, can you believe that? Actually, never mind. I have zero experience and this town is full of professional waitstaff.”

“I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” She was doubtful, but at this point desperation overrode just about anything.

“Yeah. There’s a bottle of sparkling juice in the fridge. Why don’t I set us up two glasses on the patio, and we can talk about it.”

Harper felt a half smile on her face. Sparkling apple juice. At least I don’t have to come up with an excuse for not drinking. We can be teetotalers together. “Okay,” she said.

“You go on out to the balcony. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The warm California sunshine quickly dissipated any chill that lingered in her. Harper slid the Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses onto her nose as she tucked her legs beneath her on the wicker patio furniture. You can say goodbye to designer sunglasses from here on out, she thought to herself.

Sean appeared with two crystal flutes and a bottle of sparkling apple juice that sweated in his hands. “Fancy,” she said.

“I aim to please,” he said. He popped the bottle and the familiar echo made her remember all those nights in clubs after shows. Everything she’d taken for granted.

Sean handed her one of the glasses, one-quarter full of bubbles and froth. “Cheers,” he said as he clinked glasses with her. “Look at me,” he said suddenly.

“What?” she paused with the delicate flute against her lips.

“It’s bad luck not to make eye contact when you say cheers,” he said.

“Well, then,” she held his gaze. “I’m not in a position to test the waters of luck.”

“You and me both,” he said. “So, tell me. What kind of jobs have you been drawn toward?”

She hesitated. “Well … I’ve been thinking about an art gallery.”

“Doing what?” he asked. She was surprised that he didn’t seem taken aback. Maybe it didn’t sound so stupid after all.

“Selling art,” she said. “An administrator, they call it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I like art, especially contemporary art. And I like connecting people with something they didn’t know they needed.”

“You are nothing if not a surprise,” he said as he took a swallow of the sweet juice.

Harper laughed. “I aim to please,” she said with a wink.

“Alright. Well, an art gallery it is. I’ll start putting out some feelers. I know a lot of people in the art gallery world here. There’s plenty of overlap with the tattoo industry.”

“I never thought about that,” she said. Although of course it made sense. Art was art, whether it was on a canvas or a body. “But you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly. “I can figure it out.”

“You told me that you love me,” Sean said pointedly. “And I told you the same. We’re living together, even if the circumstances that brought us here aren’t that great. Or orthodox. As far as I’m concerned, we’re a team. When you’re happy, when your life’s a little easier, I feel the same. So, you’re right. I don’t have to do anything. But I want to.”

A warmth spread through her. Harper leaned across the table and pressed her lips to his. She could taste the sweetness of the juice on his tongue as it mingled with her own. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? she asked herself as he pulled her onto his lap. Real love?

Sean cradled her in his arms and for once she didn’t flinch or suck in her stomach when his hand moved across her abdomen. Briefly, she wondered if he knew. If the offer of juice wasn’t just because he was sober, but because of what they’d created.

You need to tell him, she reminded herself. But not now. Not when everything was so perfect and it was like every possibility was an option spread out before them.