“Have a good trip?” Ben asked in the car the next morning. “I heard you went to London.”
“Don’t ask,” Jules said. “How was your holiday?”
“Spent it with my folks. Went out with some buddies to a bar on New Year’s. Looks like you went somewhere fancier. I saw photos of you with Vivian on Twitter.”
“Um, yeah. It was pretty fun.”
“Must have been. That was, uh…some outfit.” His voice had a hesitant edge as he clearly tried to walk the line and figure out what was allowed. He wanted to know if Jules would open the door or slam it shut.
Time to slam. “Yeah. Did I remember to forward you Vivian’s itinerary this week?”
He gave in with good grace. “You did. It’s all under control. Hey, you’re from Philly, right? You follow the Eagles?”
“Do I follow the Eagles? Are you serious?” She wasn’t a sports nut, but she was from Philadelphia. Of course she followed the Eagles. What sort of question was that?
Ben laughed. “Thought so. What do you think of this season so far?”
“Okay, except for when we lost to the freaking Cowboys. It was so embarrassing…”
Fifteen minutes passed in no time. Soon they were pulling up to the curb as Vivian descended the steps of her home. Jules, in mid-rant about a lousy referee call, hardly paid any attention to her until she opened the door the very second Ben came to a full stop.
“I swear to God they paid off the ref—oh,” Jules said. “Um. Good morning, Vivian.”
“Good morning, Ms. Carlisle,” Ben said, clearly taken aback.
Vivian ignored Jules as she closed the door but gave Ben one of the coldest looks Jules had ever seen. Her stomach twisted. She’d forgotten all about Vivian’s threat to fire him.
Ben, glancing in the rearview mirror, caught sight of Vivian’s deadly glare. His eyes went wide in surprise.
“Is there some reason we’re not moving?” Vivian asked.
“Sorry,” Ben said quickly and pulled away.
Jules sat in silence, not even daring to look at Vivian.
“You two were awfully chatty when I got in the car,” Vivian said.
Crap. Jules looked out of the window. Please don’t fire him.
When Jules didn’t reply, Ben, sounding puzzled, took it upon himself to say, “Yes, Ms. Carlisle. Just talking about football.”
“Football,” Vivian said. “Really.”
“Yes. Uh, right, Jules?”
“Right. That’s it.” Jules finally dared to look at Vivian, whose face was absolutely closed. It wasn’t against the law to talk about football. It wasn’t even against company policy. Was it?
“Planning to see a game sometime together, Ben?” Vivian asked.
Oh no. No, no, no.
Ben glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Uh, I guess that might be…fun.”
Wrong answer, wrong answer, Jules thought frantically.
“Fun,” Vivian said lightly.
After a few seconds with his eyes on the road, Ben said, “Or not.”
“Right,” Vivian said. “I don’t think it would be fun at all. Do you, Julia?”
“No.” Jules resisted the urge to tack ma’am on the end of it. She couldn’t believe she wanted to sleep with this woman. But she did. Even right now she did. Even right in the back seat with the privacy divider up—
“I rely absolutely,” Vivian said, “on the professionalism of all my employees.”
The back of Ben’s neck was turning red. “Yes, Ms. Carlisle.”
“I hope I never have to mention this again.”
“No, Ms. Carlisle.”
“Good.” Vivian settled back in her seat looking almost pleased. She said nothing for the rest of the ride. But when Jules hurried to Vivian’s desk with a coffee in hand, Vivian gave her a loaded glance from her chair. Locked and loaded, even.
“Well, then,” Vivian said. “I didn’t fire him.”
Jules exhaled. “Thanks, Vivian.”
“I stood to gain nothing from it.” Vivian paused. “But…you’re welcome.”
* * *
Two weeks after her return from London, it was time for Vivian’s ultrasound appointment. She was at the end of her first trimester. And Jules, of course, was coming along.
The hour at the obstetrician’s was awful. Jules had to deal with checking Vivian in and then sitting with her in the waiting room. Vivian didn’t say a word. Just once Jules would have given her eyeteeth for Vivian to bombard her with orders, look down her nose, or do anything other than sit so quietly that Jules knew she was terrified.
She couldn’t deal with Vivian being terrified. It was as bad as the night Vivian had learned she was pregnant. No. Worse. And then she had to watch Vivian leave to accompany a nurse while Jules kept waiting, which was why they called it a waiting room.
When the nurse returned for her, Jules almost tripped in her haste to get to the office. Vivian looked perfectly calm as she sat in front of Dr. Viswanathan’s desk, but that could mean anything.
The doctor smiled at Jules. She wasn’t the type of person to smile when something was going wrong. Daring to hope, Jules lowered herself into the other chair in front of the desk.
“As I was telling Vivian, everything seems to be okay,” Dr. Viswanathan said, and Jules decided that getting out of bed this morning had been worthwhile. “There isn’t much we can tell at this point, but this first screening detected no serious issues. Positioning and fetal heartbeat are normal. Now, I just want to clear up a few things with you. How’s your diet?”
“Fine,” Vivian said.
Dr. Viswanathan looked at Jules, who nodded. Then she looked back at Vivian. “You’re getting enough iron and folic acid?”
Vivian glanced at Jules. “I don’t know. Am I?”
“Yes. In your food and in the prenatal vitamins I always put next to your breakfast. You’re taking them, right?”
“Of course I am.”
“Exercise?”
“I meet with my trainer three mornings a week.” Vivian waved her hand. “She’s got me doing some prenatal routine.”
“Which is?”
Jules pulled a copy of the exercise routine out of her bag and passed it over the desk.
Dr. Viswanathan looked it over. “This seems good. You’re sleeping?”
“Better,” Vivian said, sounding evasive for the first time, earning her a very direct look. “I’m still adjusting to the time change,” she added after a moment.
“You said you got back from London two weeks ago.”
“I’m fine,” Vivian said. “Better. I said I’m better.”
“It’s important that you get enough rest,” Dr. Viswanathan said firmly.
“Well, she’s been going home earlier,” Jules said, like some kind of ob-gyn wingman. “That’s good, right?”
The doctor nodded. “That’s a start, but, Vivian, I want you to take maternity leave for the entire last month of your pregnancy. At your age—”
“That isn’t an option,” Vivian said, her tone final.
“What’s more important?” Dr. Viswanathan asked. “Your job or your health? Or the child’s health?”
Vivian narrowed her eyes.
Jules jumped in before the bomb could go off. “I bet all that can be decided later, right?”
“True.” Dr. Viswanathan looked down at her notes while Vivian relaxed.
Twenty minutes later, as they were heading back to the car, Vivian said derisively, “‘Maternity leave.’ Please.”
“Well, you’re going to have to take some after the baby’s born,” Jules said. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Vivian didn’t sound remotely happy about it. She clucked her tongue. “I’m sure Mark will be ecstatic, just waiting for me to—”
She cut herself off, but Jules knew what she meant. In terms of Vivian’s career, the pregnancy couldn’t have happened at a worse time, when Mark Tavio was quite possibly looking for an excuse to get rid of her. Which meant that Vivian, who should be resting, would undoubtedly work harder than ever.
Jules wished she had a say in all this: that she could make Mr. Tavio leave Vivian alone, that she could make Vivian stay home and sleep in once in a while, that she could just fix everything. But wishing hadn’t done her any favors so far.
It’d also be nice to have a life outside of all this. Jules doubted that was going to happen anytime soon.