Happily Ever Ninja(21)

Her eyes widened and grew more sober, watchful. “How did . . . never mind,” she croaked. “You know everything.”

“I do not know everything.”

She ignored me and continued, “I didn’t want anyone to know. We found out last week and, with Ashley leaving, this is her party. I didn’t want . . .” Janie swallowed weakly and her eyes fluttered shut.

“You didn’t want to hijack her party with your news?”

“Exactly.” She tried to swallow, then made an involuntary gagging sound.

“Janie?” Quinn’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Kitten, are you okay?”

She tried to push to her elbows, but I placed a hand on her arm to keep her in place and responded for her. “She’s okay, but she needs those Saltines.”

“Ugh, I can’t eat.”

“You need to eat, otherwise the nausea will get worse. Elizabeth is bringing you lemonade and crackers. Citrus helped me with both Jack and Grace.”

“Elizabeth is here with the food. Fiona, let me in.” Quinn sounded appropriately concerned. His anxiety made me smile. Greg had been of a similar disposition for our first pregnancy—like I was made of both glass and plutonium.

I gave Janie one last smile of commiseration, then turned to the door, taking a deep breath before I opened it. I wasn’t surprised to see everyone—and I do mean everyone—hovering anxiously on the other side.

I addressed Quinn first. “She has to eat. If she doesn’t eat, she’ll keep getting sick.”

He nodded gravely, like I was giving him directions to save her life. “Okay. I’ll make sure she eats.”

“I will too,” Dan—Quinn’s second in command—chimed in, looking almost as anxious as Quinn.

Daniel O’Malley, six foot, stocky, brown eyes, brown hair; Quinn Sullivan’s childhood friend and now business partner; candid, loyal, and unrequitedly in love with Kat Tanner (aka Kathleen Tyson) . . . unrequited because she is in denial.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Elizabeth addressed this question to Quinn, as though she held him responsible.

Based on the way he was grinding his teeth, I surmised he was going to repeat his earlier answer, It’s none of your business.

Therefore, I interjected, “She’s not that far along, and they just found out last week. Plus, she didn’t want to be the focus of tonight, what with Ashley leaving on Wednesday.”

Ashley and Drew had arrived while I was in the bathroom; they were standing at the back of the gathered crowd, and she shook her head at this reasoning. “She is a nut. I don’t care about having a party—seeing y’all is enough for me. I wish we could cancel the whole darn thing and just hang out and knit.”

“And crochet,” Nico—Elizabeth’s husband—added with a grin. He and Janie were the crocheters in our group, though I suspected Nico did it primarily as a way to spend time with his wife, and secondarily to bond with her friends.

“Elizabeth, please take the food to Janie’s room.” I motioned with my chin down the hallway, then turned to Quinn. “It would be good for you to carry her, but lift her gently.”

He nodded solemnly and started for the bathroom, then stopped and turned to me. His typically glacial gaze was tempered with gratitude, but also something else.

“You’ll come back, right? You’ll come back and check on her?” he asked.

I frowned at him, confused, especially since Elizabeth was an ER physician and Ashley was a nurse.

I was about to point this out when Elizabeth said, “Maybe you should make a list of foods, the best kind for her . . . condition.”

“She doesn’t have a condition. You make it sound like she has gonorrhea.” Sandra shoved Elizabeth’s shoulder, grinning with gusto. “Janie and Quinn are going to have a baby! Why is no one doing cartwheels?”

“I agree,” Marie nodded enthusiastically. “This is a reason to celebrate. I’ll mix cocktails.”

“I’ll help,” Kat offered.

“Let’s all help.” Nico herded everyone toward the kitchen; he must’ve understood the strained expression on Quinn’s face and wisely decided to move the crowd.

Greg loitered behind, waiting for our friends to shuffle past, then came to my side.

Before Greg could speak, Quinn tugged me by the arm and turned me to face him again. “Listen, I need your help.”

I blinked at him blankly for two beats before I found my voice. “What do you need?” Quinn wasn’t the type to ask for help, ever.

“Janie has been sick for weeks, and the doctors keep saying it’s normal and everything is fine as long as she’s not dehydrated or doesn’t lose too much weight. It doesn’t seem normal to me. They gave her a prescription for Zofran, but she doesn’t want to take it.”