LOGIN(Alexis’s POV)Three days later I was back on Mara’s couch with cold takeout onthe coffee table. Mara was cross-legged at the other end, poking at a containershe’d barely touched, scrolling her phone with her free hand.“Sabrina’s in the hospital,” she said, not looking up.I bit into a spring roll. “I know.”Mara glanced at me over her phone. “You know?”“I have people who tell me things, Mara.”“What kind of things?”“Useful things.” I chewed, swallowed, and reached for my wine. “Shecollapsed on-site at Cortlandt and they took her to Mount Sinai. The wholefamily rushed in. Very dramatic. VeryAtwood.”Mara set her phone down slowly. “Is she okay?”“She’s fine. She’s always fine. She’s got five brothers and aprivate suite and a sixty-year-old sugar uncle who apparently flew in aspecialist from somewhere.” I took a sip of wine. “I’m sure she’s being verybrave about it.”Mara didn’t laugh. She was watching me with her chopsticks restingacross the container, her head tilted slig
(Nate’s POV)Felix found me in the cafeteria at four in the morning.I was at a corner table with a coffee I wasn’t drinking. He came across the room and sat down across from me without a word. Charlie followed a minute later. He put a paper cup on the table, pulled out the chair on my left, and lowered himself into it. He started stirring his coffee with a little wooden stick and didn’t stop for the rest of the conversation.“Funny thing,” Felix said. He leaned back and hooked one ankle over his knee. His hair was pushed off his forehead and he looked very pleased with himself. “You’re always around when something goes wrong with her.”“I was at the site because it’s my project.”“Sure. And the gala was the foundation. And France was the ceremony.” Felix tilted his head. “And tonight you beat all five of us to the hospital.”“I called Eric.”“You did.” He smiled. “You’ve got a real pattern going, is what I’m saying.”Charlie stirred his coffee. “He’s kidding.”“I’m not.”“He’s mostly
(Sabrina’s POV)The room was dark except for the hallway light coming from under the door. I surfaced out of a doze without opening my eyes all the way. Everything felt heavy and warm and far away, the IV cold in the back of my hand, the pillow damp under my cheek.My right hand was holding something.I turned my head on the pillow and looked.Nate had fallen asleep in the chair he’d dragged next to the bed. His chin had dropped toward his chest, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He was still wearing the shirt from the site, wrinkled now, the collar dark where my face had been against it in the car. His hand rested on the bed rail. My fingers were threaded through his.I looked at that for a long time. I didn’t remember doing it. Sometime in the last few hours my hand had gone across the gap and found his on the rail and folded into it. He had closed his fingers around mine and let me. I had slept through the whole thing.His thumb moved slowly against
(Alexis’s POV)Mara’s apartment was a third-floor walk-up in Chelsea.She had a green velvet couch from a vintage shop on Ninth Avenue. It was not the Cooper house. There were no marble floors or a thirty-foot foyer, nor a closet the size of this living room.Still, it was warm, and it was hers, so lately I kept finding reasons to be here instead of anywhere else.We were on the couch with the second bottle of wine open between us. Mara had her legs thrown across my lap, bare feet, chipped red polish on her toes. She was wearing an old Bryn Mawr sweatshirt and cotton shorts, her dark hair half-undone from its bun, loose strands falling against her neck.She was laughing so hard she had to lean forward and set her glass on the coffee table before she dropped it.“The JACKET,” she gasped. “Alexis. Oh my God. The jacket.”“I was aiming for HER—”“You hit Charlie!” Mara pressed both hands over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. “The biggest man in the entire room. He looked down at it. He
(Eric’s POV)Nate Cooper was pacing outside Sabrina’s room when I came out.He’d been there at least thirty minutes. The floor nurse had told me, almost apologetically, as if she thought I might do something about it.He was still in the clothes from the site, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled and gravel dust on his shoes. There was a smear on his collar where Sabrina’s face had pressed against him. His arms were crossed hard over his chest.“I want to see her,” he said.“No.”“Eric—”“There’s a limit on visitors. She’s resting. Desmond and Felix are with her.”His chin came up. “Why does Desmond get priority over me?”I looked at him for a long moment.He looked terrible. His shirt was wrinkled where Sabrina had grabbed it, a fistful of fabric stretched out of shape over his sternum. His jaw was clenched, his eyes bloodshot.“Desmond arranged her transfer to a private suite,” I said evenly. “He got a specialist on the phone and handled the insurance before anyone asked him to. Th
(Sabrina’s POV)The ceiling was moving. White rectangles sliding past, one after another, the bright lights making me squint.“Get me a line in, BP’s dropping—”“Eighty over fifty, she needs fluids now—”A needle stung the back of my hand. Something cold started climbing up my arm toward my shoulder. A blood pressure cuff squeezed my left arm tight enough to bruise, and someone pressed a fetal monitor across my belly.The room filled with the baby’s heartbeat and I grabbed the edge of the gurney with my free hand.“The baby,” I croaked at whoever was closest. “Is the baby okay?”“Heartbeat’s beautiful, ma’am. One-forty, nice and steady. Try to hold still for me.”I pressed my palm over the monitor and felt the baby kick against my hand. My eyes burned as I lay there, counting kicks until all I could hear was the thumping and my own ragged breathing and, somewhere past the curtain, a phone ringing and ringing and ringing.The last thing I remembered clearly was gravel. Gravel and heat
(Sabrina’s POV)I woke up because there was someone in the room.Not in the room—in the next room. Through the door I could hear the soft give of a couch and the slow constant noise of someone breathing. I tried to sit up, but my chest hurt. My throat felt as if I had swallowed gravel.My hand went
(Nate’s POV)The doctors finished talking but I didn’t move.My grandmother was on a ventilator. She might wake up. She might not. The smoke had done what smoke does. Every hour she stayed under was an hour she might not come back from.That was what the resident said. The resident was twenty-eight
(Sabrina’s POV)I picked up Nate’s pen. The pen I had bought him for our first anniversary, engraved with his initials on the side. He had never used it. The barrel was cold.I signed.I clicked the pen shut and laid it down across the form, right over the word consent.My hand did not shake. I did
(Sabrina’s POV)“Congratulations, Mrs. Cooper. You’re one month pregnant.”My fingertips landed on my stomach before I told them to. The doctor kept talking, but I was already three streets ahead. Already pricing the crib. Already picking the name.Pregnant.For three years I had been Nate Cooper’s







