Symptoms and Suspicions

It’s a long afternoon at Knight Enterprises, and the fluorescent lights are buzzing an awful lot like a swarm of bees, and I’ve got a wave of nausea rolling over me that’s got absolutely nothing to do with the desk full of spreadsheets in front of me. It’s been one week since that late night in Liam’s office, since I saw the ticket stub to the masquerade that has me half-convinced he’s the father of the baby I’m carrying. I’m Emma Larson, the best and the brightest, sharp-as-a-tack analyst but currently a wreck — sweaty, sick to my stomach, praying nobody sees me about to lose my breakfast. It’s the Orion project presentation, and its full strength, and its my turn, but my body has decided to start fucking me up at precisely the worst possible time.

Liam’s the one at the head of the table, his gray eyes flashing around the room like he’s a hawk. He’s all glossy control, the dark suit tensile against the sheen of the Manhattan sky that extends behind him. I try to think about my notes but the room’s spinning and I reach for the edge of the chair. Mia’s across from me, frowning, which is fair, because I blew her off every day this week. Vanessa’s here too, sneering in the moonlight as if she expects me to crash. “She’s been lying low ever since I straight up called her out to Liam, but there’s something else you can read in her eyes: she’s me, She’s watching me, she’s watching everything I do.

“Emma, your role,” Liam hollers, his voice cutting through the fog. I wobble to my feet and head to the front. Halfway up I get dizzy, lose my bearings, the world spiraling around me and I stagger, my hand lurching, to the table for support. The room fills with audible gasps, and before I know it, Liam’s at my side, reaching out to steady me, his fingers softly gripping my elbow. His touch, hot and too easy, is momentary proof that I was there at that masquerade, in his arms under those falling stars.

“You okay?” he breathes, but this time quiet enough that only I can hear. He locks eyes with me, and I read something else now — fear, not just the hardened steel.

“Fine,” I mutter, detaching myself. “Just… stood up too fast.” I smile shallowly and make my way over to the projector where I launch into my overview of Orion’s market risk. In the beginning, my voice quavers, but I quickly get into the rhythm, the numbers grounding me. At the halfway mark, Vanessa cuts in, faux-sweet.

Emma, you numbers seem way to rosy to me. So, what’s your strategy for when the Asian markets blow up?” She is lying back; her black hair glistens as if on a photo shoot. It’s a legit question, but there’s a quality to the way she asks it — the way she’s pressed in front of me and her tone like I just disclosed my dog’s name — that gets my blood going again.

“I’ve got that,” I say, throwing us to a slide on the kind of plan B’s we’ve got. “Page 18 provides consideration of the option of moving sales to the Euro as a fall-back.” When she does, I stare at her back, daring her to escalate this. She isn’t, but that smile suggests to me that this isn’t over.

The presentation is winding down and I slump into my seat — beat but relieved. I hit it, my body be damned. The team is leaving, and Liam tries to say something with volume within all the crowd noise. “Good work, Larson. Stay back a moment.” My stomach drops. Mia gives me a worried look, but I shake it off and pretend not to notice Vanessa’s expression hardening as she follows Mia out the door.

There’s no one in the room but Liam and me, and the room is not big. He is standing, leaning against a corner of the table with his arms crossed over it. “What happened back there? You’re about to keel over.”

“It’s just a dizzy spell,” I say, refusing to look him in the eye. “Haven’t eaten much today.” Half-true, it turns out, but the real villain is the pregnancy, morning sickness hitting me like a freight train. I can’t tell him that not while I’m still trying to figure out if he is the one from that night.

He scowls, as if he doesn’t believe me. “You’re pushing too hard. Orion’s huge but I got you on your toes. If you’re up to something, tell me.” Now his voice is gentle, and it’s dangerous, pulling at me, making me want to tell him everything — ­the ball, the baby, the terror that’s consuming me.

“I’m fine,” I say but I can barely get out the words. He inches closer and I catch a drift of that cologne I am haunted with in my sleep. I’m saved by my phone’s vibration in my pocket. It’s a text from Mia: Drs appt tomorrow b4 noon wht time u coming? Tell me what the hell is happening. I jam the phone back into its cradle, but Liam is standing there, watching, and his jaw is tight.

“Everything okay?” he says, jerking his head in the direction of my pocket.

“Just Mia,” I respond too fast. She’s… at check in.” I need to get out of her before I do the one thing I can’t un-do. “Deadlines,” I mutter to myself as I snatch up my things and head out the door. But as I’m walking past him, his hand just floats against mine for a second and it’s like a spark into gasoline. I freeze and my heart bangs against my ribs, and when I look up, his are on mine, like he felt it, too.

“Take care of yourself, Emma,” he says, and it’s not a command — it’s almost a request. I give him a nod, then high tail it out of there before I fuck up and tell him the truth.

I’m trying not to fly apart at my desk when Vanessa comes over, her smile nothing but venom. “Rough day, Emma? You’re looking pale. Hope it’s not catching.” She pauses, looks at my handbag. “Or maybe it’s something else. You know, a teensy condition?”

My blood runs cold. She can’t learn about the pregnancy, but she’s angling, and she’s almost there. “Don’t get involved, Vanessa,” I snap in a low voice. She laughs and walks away, but the threat is there — she’s not going to let this one go.

I sink into my seat, the burden of it all coming down on top of me. Liam’s concern, Vanessa’s skepticism, Mia’s texts — it’s all closing in and now there’s no more lies. The ticket stub, the cufflink, Claire’s note, they all point to Liam and the night I can never remember. I’m not just fighting for a job any longer, I’m fighting for a future, for the baby I’m not ready to face. And if Vanessa continues to schvitz or Liam starts asking the right questions, it’ll burn this whole thing down.