Harper wavered at the coffee table. In a peace offering gesture, she’d steeped tea for both of them. However, as she leaned over the steaming pot, it poured into her head and made the room spin.

“Are you okay?” Sean asked. He reached forward from the couch to steady her.

“I don’t—”

That was the last thing she remembered before darkness fell over her. She had just enough sense and stamina to aim toward the soft sheepskin rug instead of the hard floors. Sean’s voice sounded far away as he called out for her.

She felt pinching restraints against her forearms, which woke her up. “Sean?” she asked. “It’s too tight … ”

“Your husband couldn’t come,” a strange female voice said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.”

“Where … where am I?”

“Right now you’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to St. Vincent.” The woman was all business in her white uniform. Harper lifted her head to look at her arms, but was immediately, gently, pushed back down. “You’re okay, sweetie,” the woman said. “We just strapped you in for cautionary measures.”

“What happened?” Harper asked.

“Your husband said that you fainted.”

“He’s not my husband.”

“Okay, well your boyfriend or roommate or whoever called 9-1-1. He said you fainted and he couldn’t wake you up. Has this ever happened before?”

Harper considered how much to tell them. Of course I’ve fainted before, I’m a model. Get hungry enough, and your body will just shut down temporarily. But she’d never been out for that long. She’d only fainted a few times, but every time she was almost immediately alert again. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

“Okay. Have you had any head injuries lately? A concussion?”

“No,” she said, happy to be blunt and honest.

“Is there any possibility you could be pregnant?”

“I don’t … I don’t know.”

“Alright. Don’t worry, we’re almost there. We have your purse here, is your insurance information in there?”

“It should be,” she said. Harper couldn’t bring herself to admit to this stranger that she’d let it lapse. Screw it, you’ve already racked up an ambulance bill. How much would that be, a thousand dollars?

The familiar street names and lights looked alien from this reclined angle. “Why aren’t the sirens on?” she asked.

“That’s only for emergencies.”

At least you’re not an emergency. Maybe that would lower the bill a little. When the ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance, the driver raced around back to help. “I can walk,” Harper said, suddenly embarrassed at the attention. Even as patients limped into the ER, they stared openly at the scene she’d created.

“Sorry, that’s not allowed.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she was wheeled into the bright fluorescent hallway. There was no stopping at reception or filling out of forms. Apparently when you arrived via ambulance, you got the full star treatment.

Harper was wheeled into a small exam room. Down the hall, she could hear the screams and belligerent cries of her fellow patients. It felt like an hour before a nurse finally came in. “Harper, my name is Joy. I’m just going to take down some information, get your vitals, and the doctor will be in as soon as she can, okay?”

“Okay.” Harper knew it was the middle of the day, but she was exhausted. She was on autopilot as she answered the nurse’s questions.

“Is the address on your license correct?”

“Um, no. I just moved. I … I don’t remember the address.”

“That’s okay, we can update it later.”

God. You don’t even know where you live.

“Who should we put down as an emergency contact?”

“Sean Cavanaugh.” His name was out of her mouth before she could register it. Was he really the first one she thought of? She even knew his number by heart.

“Okay, now I’m going to check your blood pressure, lungs, and draw some blood. Huh,” the nurse said. “Such slender arms. I’m jealous! Hold on, I’ll need to get a children’s cuff for this.”

Harper smiled into the fluorescent light. You’re not fat, she beamed to herself. A children’s cuff!

“Alright, that’s better,” the nurse said. The cuff looked so much less serious than the big, bulky black one—so big, Harper simply couldn’t fill it. “That’s … one-sixty over one-ten. Do you have a history of high blood pressure in your family? That’s pretty high for someone your age and weight.”

“I think it’s just stress,” Harper said. Idiot. She’d lost count of how many times doctors and medical professionals were stumped by her strange numbers. Don’t you know being so thin gives you high blood pressure? Don’t they teach you that in medical school?

“Could be,” the nurse said. “I’ll just make a note of it. You’ll want to follow up on that if it continues.”

Yeah, that’s what I want to spend my no-insurance money on. Monitoring a so-called condition when I know perfectly well what the cause is.

“And now the blood,” the nurse said. “Do needles bother you?”

She almost laughed. “No,” she said. Needles are what brought me to Sean.

“Okay,” the nurse said. “All done! We’re pretty busy today, but the doctor will be in as soon as she can. Just sit tight.”

She dozed off even with the blinding lights. The gut-wrenching sobs of children worked their way into her dreams. Punctuated by the sounds of messy technical jargon, she dreamed of her childhood home and the time she’d split her lip open when she ran smack into the doorframe.

“Harper! What are you doing?” her mom had rushed to her while Harper’s best friend from kindergarten was frozen with an open mouth. The taste of blood, coppery, filled her mouth.

She’d started to cry, not from the pain, but for the attention and for the sheer wildness of it all.

“I … I …” she’d stammered.

“What the hell happened?” her mom had exclaimed and turned on her friend.

“We … we were playing tag, and she …”

“Harper!” her mom had said as she turned back to her. She examined the lip. “Do you know this might scar? Do you know how important your face is?”

A girlish scream pierced her brain. “You’re scaring the other patients,” a stern voice said. Her mom was gone and a bright light flooded through her eyelids.

Harper felt a firm, warm hand on her forearm. Her eyes fluttered open. A pretty Indian woman with tired black eyes looked down at her. “Sorry to disturb your sleep,” she said. “I’m Dr. Chatterjee.”

“Oh. Hi,” Harper said, her voice thick with sleep.

“Well, Harper, we have a few things to discuss.”

I’m dying, she thought ridiculously. “What, uh … what’s wrong with me?”

“If you mean why did you faint, I have a couple of theories. For one, you’re severely dehydrated. We’ll be getting a tube in you immediately to address that.”

“A tube? Not like a feeding tube, right? I mean, it’s just water …”

The doctor looked at her curiously. “Why would you ask about a feeding tube?”

Harper blushed. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m still kind of out of it—”

“Harper,” the doctor said gently. “I see a lot of models and actresses. This is LA. I know it’s trendy right now to dehydrate yourself to get that toned look all the time now, not just for photo shoots. But it’s dangerous. Especially for someone in your condition.”

“My condition?”

“You … you do know you’re pregnant, right?”

“What? How do you know? That can’t be—”

“It came back in the blood test. We can retest, but blood work is very accurate.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Harper said urgently. She grasped for the woman’s hands. “Please.”

“Harper, you’re a grown woman. And there’s doctor-patient confidentiality. I don’t intend to tell anyone, nor is it legal for me to do so. But … are you alright? I can have a nurse refer you to some pregnancy support organizations. All unbiased and many free or on a sliding scale.”

“Okay,” Harper said. Anything to shut the woman up. How can I be pregnant?

“Do you want me to call someone for you? Your emergency contact?”

“No!” Harper said immediately. “No. Thank you. I … my phone should be in my purse. I’ll take care of it.”

“If you’re sure,” the doctor said. “We do need to keep you here for awhile. Partially for observation, and partially to get your hydration levels back up. I’d also recommend you talk to one of the nutritionists on staff.”

“Nutritionists?”

“I can’t tell you much with just the blood work, but in my experience dehydration in a woman your age often goes hand in hand with malnutrition. It’s often an attempt to fit a certain mold of what women are supposed to look like. Given your height and bone structure … are you a model?”

“Was,” Harper said glumly.

“I know how demanding that industry can be,” the doctor said. “And I know what lengths women in that profession go to in order to maintain their figure. No matter what you decide to do about the pregnancy, I want you to meet with a nutritionist before you’re discharged.”

“Fine,” Harper said. She forced a smile at the doctor, the looked away until the woman exited through the curtain.

She dug her phone out of her purse. It was full of missed calls and texts from Sean. Hey, she texted. I’m okay, just getting fluids at the hospital.

What’s wrong? What happened?? Sean texted.

Her phone lit up with a call, which she silenced. Can’t talk now, nurses coming in, she said. Just dehydrated, that’s all. Should be released in a few hours.

Call me when you can? Sean asked.

Ok. Putting phone on airplane mode now to save battery.

She turned off the phone and closed her eyes.

What the fuck are you going to do now? she thought.