“You’ve been working on your art gala this week, right?” Constantino asked over the phone while at work. One week had passed since the night that Dr. Lin had told me I was pregnant. “Because I was thinking that we should move it forward.”
“Why?” I asked, dressing for the first time in several days.
“You’re pregnant, and the cops are on our asses. They don’t have much, but we need to keep our name out of any bad business,” he said. “Hide our s**t behind a charity, and we’ll be good.”
While I didn’t want to move the gala up, we didn’t have much of a choice.
“When are you thinking?” I asked.
“Next week.”
“Next week?!” I exclaimed, snapping on a necklace.
“Friday night. I’ve already scheduled the venue,” he said.
Someone knocked on our front door, and I hurried out of my closet to answ
