Declan told me about the party on Thursday. He didn't ask. He informed.
"Saturday night. SoHo loft. Wear something nice."
I was folding laundry. The baby kicked against my ribs. Eight months now. Everything hurt.
"I'm tired," I said. "Can I skip this one?"
"No." He scrolled through his phone. "Selena will be there. It'll look weird if you don't come."
Selena. The woman from the Instagram photo. The one with the sharp white smile.
I pressed my thumb into my left wrist. Counted to ten. "Okay."
Friday night, he laid a dress on the bed. Red. Tight. The fabric clung to every curve, every swell.
"I can't wear that," I said.
"Why not?"
"Look at me." I gestured to my belly. "I'm huge."
"You look fine."
"Declan—"
"Don't be boring, Charlee." He walked out. "Wear the dress."
I held it up to the mirror. The neckline plunged. The hem barely covered my thighs. I looked like someone playing dress-up in the wrong costume.
But I wore it.
---
The loft was all exposed brick and Edison bulbs. People held champagne flutes and spoke in low, important voices. I walked behind Declan, one hand on my belly, the other clutching my purse.
Selena found us within minutes.
"Declan!" She kissed both his cheeks. European style. Her perfume was expensive. Jasmine and something darker.
She looked at me. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "You must be Charlee."
"Hi."
"Congratulations." She gestured to my belly. "When are you due?"
"Four weeks."
"How exciting." She touched Declan's arm. Her nails were painted deep red. "Come. I want to show you the installation."
We followed her through the crowd. People stared. Not at Declan. At me. At the dress that didn't fit. At the belly that didn't belong.
The installation was in the center of the loft. A glass-walled atrium, maybe fifteen feet across. Inside, the floor was covered in white foam. Thick, decorative clouds of it. Overhead lights turned it blue, then pink, then gold.
"It's an interactive piece," Selena explained. "You're supposed to walk through it. Feel the texture. Become part of the art."
Declan grinned. "Charlee should do it."
I looked at him. "What?"
"Go inside. Dance a little." He raised his voice. People turned. "Come on, babe. Don't be shy."
Marcus appeared beside us, beer in hand. "Do it! Pregnancy dance!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
I shook my head. "The floor's slippery. I'll fall."
"You won't fall," Declan said. His smile was tight. "Don't embarrass me."
Selena leaned in, her voice soft. "It's perfectly safe. I walked through it earlier."
I looked at the foam. The glass walls. The faces pressed close, watching.
"Declan, please—"
"Just do it." His hand gripped my elbow. Not hard. But firm. "Two minutes. Then we can go."
I stepped toward the atrium. The glass door swung open. The foam smelled chemical. Sweet and wrong.
I took off my heels. Held them in one hand. Stepped inside.
The foam was cold. It shifted under my feet. I took another step. The door swung shut behind me.
Outside the glass, people clapped. Phones came up. Flashes went off.
"Dance!" someone shouted.
I swayed. Barely. My hand stayed on my belly, steadying.
The baby kicked. Hard. I winced.
I took another step. My foot slipped. I caught myself. Breathed.
Then I saw it.
A glint of light in the foam. Something metallic. I looked up.
Selena stood at the edge of the atrium. Her hand was at the glass. Her fingers open. Empty.
I looked down again. A ring. Diamond. Cocktail-style. Half-buried in the foam directly in my path.
I tried to step around it.
My foot slipped.
I went down hard. Hip first. Then shoulder. My head cracked against the glass wall.
The world tilted.
I heard shouting. Muffled. Far away.
Warmth spread between my legs. Not foam. Something else. Something wet and wrong.
I tried to stand. Couldn't. My hands slipped in the foam. My belly cramped. A fist closing inside me.
"Help," I whispered.
Outside the glass, Declan stood with his arms crossed. He was talking to Marcus. Laughing.
I screamed. "Declan!"
He glanced at me. Shook his head. Turned back to Marcus.
The cramp came again. Harder. I doubled over. Blood mixed with foam. Pink swirls in white clouds.
Someone finally opened the door.
A woman I didn't know. She knelt beside me. Her face was pale. "Oh my God. Someone call an ambulance."
I looked past her. Through the glass.
Selena was gone.
Declan was on his phone.
The baby wasn't moving anymore.
I closed my eyes and held my wrist and counted and counted and counted.
