Blythe shifts, her expression unreadable. “I . . . don’t know.”

“No worries, we’ll take a look at it. Any nausea?”

“Some,” she responds at the same time I snort.

“What?” she glares at me.

“You keep puking your brains out, you can’t call that . . . some,” I state.

She rolls her eyes.

“Cravings?” Lydia ignores our exchange.

A pause. Then, quieter, “Orange soda.”

Lydia smiles. “Citrus tends to be a big craving. Try fresh oranges if you can find them at the market. I know it’s not the season, but . . .”

Blythe doesn’t return the smile. I make a mental note to have citrusy stuff around, even if it has to be shipped from wherever.

Lydia finishes writing down her notes, then gestures toward the gown folded on the chair. “Go ahead and change. Dr. Moreau will be in soon. I’ll bring the machine to see if we can find the little one while you’re visiting us.”

Blythe waits until the door closes behind her before she speaks. “What kind of machine is she bringing?”

I shrug. “I know as much as you do. Why don’t you change?” I step toward the door, but before I leave, I hesitate. “You don’t have to be afraid here.”

She doesn’t look at me. “That’s what they always say before everything falls apart.”

I don’t have an answer for that.

So I step out, leaving her with the only thing I can give her right now. Space.

“Atlas Timberbridge,” Simone says flatly as I step outside the room.

“Hey, Simone.” I try to look casual. “Long time no seeing you. It’s been like⁠—”

“Not enough time, and yet here we are, still having to deal with the Timberbridge brothers,” she growls. “It’s like all of you decided to visit the same week, isn’t it?”

“All of us?” I arch an eyebrow because I don’t know if I have the bandwidth to deal with Keir.

“Well, Ledger was here on Monday with his wife—” she pauses and smiles, “—she’s too lovely to be with one of you. I told her that if she was being held against her will, I would help her run away, but apparently, she’s happy—with a Timberbridge.”

“Okay, so you had to deal with him⁠—”

“Then there was Hopper with his adorable daughter,” she growls. “And I learned he has a fiancée? Like . . . what is with these women falling for Timberbridges?”

Should I tell her the fiancée is Nysa? Nah, I’ll let her figure that out soon.

“Let me guess, you had to deal with the sheriff too, huh?” I cross my arms trying not to smirk.

She nods. “Yep, he needed a physical. Why is he here? I recall him wanting to go into the FBI.” Then she glares at me. “Why are you here?”