Page 114 of Dead Set on You
I start pacing. “Physically, I’m fine,” I amend. “But I need you to tell me about the day before I woke up … or the day I did. What happened?”
“Hard to explain,” Gemma says carefully. “One moment you were burning up, and the next, the doctors came in. There was chaos—alarms and scrambling. They kicked me out of there … and then, after what seemed like ages, you started stabilizing.”
I try to think back to that moment. “Margot was there,” I breathe, piecing it together.
Gemma’s quiet. “Yes,” she says reluctantly, like’s she’s not quite sure how I know … and one day, when I process it all, I’ll tell her. “I went looking for her,” she adds quickly. “And I know you’re going to hate me for it, because I should have known better, but I thought she should know. That if …” Gemma hesitates. “If you didn’t make it, she should know. But she decided she was going to come along because she was your mother, and that’s when I knew I had fucked up.”
“I don’t hate you,” I interject. “And you did what you thought was right.”
“Still, I felt like a turd. A big turd,” Gemma says. “Especially when she showed up, acting like a doting mother, demanding the doctors take you off all the medication because it wasunnatural—that it was prolonging the inevitable.”
I stop pacing, needing to know. “And?”
“She tried to strong-arm the team, started screaming about being next of kin, about not wanting you to live like that,”Gemma says. “It was bad. So bad that eventually the doctors told her to step back, but she only kept escalating, so they asked her to leave, and when she refused, they had her removed. And during all that, all your vitals were through the roof.”
“And that’s it?” I ask, not connecting the dots.
“I mean, that’s the summary of it,” she says. “In the end, your vitals—they stabilized. Quickly. Unnaturally, almost.” She has no idea. “They tapered the sedation, and you did well on your own.” There’s a smile and relief in her voice. “And that improved until you could be weaned off of it entirely. Until you could come back.”
I have so many questions. I ask the loudest one. “And Rafael?”
All I hear is the hum of the road in the background. “Are you sure it’s a good time to talk about Raf? You know Dr. Wagner said you need to—”
“Relax. I got it, Mama Bear. I promise this has nothing to do with work or anything stress inducing.”
“Raf? Not stress inducing?”
“Gem!”
“Okay, I’ll bite. He’s fine. He’s doing his thing.”
“His thing?” I hopethingisn’t code for a person.
“Well, I don’t know if this is a big ol’ secret or not, but he quit Media Lab. He’s making tequila now.” La Clandestina! The bar. His business with Lupe. More memories click into place. “Anyway, he’s good. In fact, tonight is the launch of La Cla—his bar.”
A knot tightens in my belly. Of course it’s the night of his launch. Of course he’s moved on with his life. Of course I’m here being a fool who thinks she can track him down and explain everything.
“Evie?” Gemma’s tone turns panicky.
“Yes, I’m here.” But I’m thinking about Rafael and where to go from here. I could schedule a time to chat, like normal people who have lives and friends and people who love them. Or not.
The thought of waiting makes me restless, and I stride into my closet and flip on the light. Rows of color-coded clothing and shoes line each of the walls. “Gem?”
“Yes?”
“I want to go to the launch.” A surge of adrenaline makes me dizzy.
“Um. Do you—”
“And I’m going to need you to be a little less Mama Bear Gemma and a lot more Ladies’ Night at the Club Gem. Okay?” My tone leaves little room for her to argue.
“I don’t think …”
“No thinking involved,” I say to the both of us. “Not tonight.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEA MONTH SINCE THE ACCIDENT (THE HARD PART)
The line around La Clandestina wraps around the building.
