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Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to her feet, holding on to the bed frame for support. Long experience had taught her she had to wait for the ceiling to stop spinning and the nausea to subside. Then she made her way to the living room.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Pedro spun around, his eyes rimmed in red. The reason became clear when she registered who was standing behind him.
“Having a cat is a violation of your lease!” Hannah Cho crowed, the vindication on her face out of proportion with her petite features.
Garrett Chapman was standing next to her, unable to hide his stunned dismay as he took in the stacks of broken outdated computer equipment, magazines, and stacked boxes of new household appliances.
“But this building allows pets.” Emma turned toward Hannah, her head beginning to pound. “I know I’ve seen Mrs. Moore on the first floor carrying a Maltese in her purse. And the big, bearded man on the floor above us had that huge German shepherd. We can hear it barking sometimes. The building must allow pets.”
Hannah pointed at Pedro, her head wagging side to side. “Not for him it doesn’t. The updated lease you signed last March explicitly forbade you from having any sort of animal.”
“It did?” Pedro frowned. “But you can’t have separate rules for one person and another set for everyone else.”
Hannah put her hands on her hips. “We can for problem tenants like you.”
The sick feeling in Emma’s stomach grew with Hannah’s jubilation. The landlord’s daughter was almost dancing, she was so excited.
Unlike most of the buildings owned by faceless corporations, Pedro’s apartment building was owned by a single family.
Her cousin made some comments about the Chos notbeing fans when she moved in, but Emma hadn’t realized they were actively gunning to get him out.
“Look at this place,” Hannah yelled. She waved at the crowded stacks with a frenetic air. “This is notnormal. Letting you introduce animals into this mess would be criminal.”
Emma’s head was killing her at this point. “But it’s not his cat,” she said, her voice far weaker than intended.
“Emmy, what’s wrong?” Garrett was suddenly in front of her. She recognized him by his size—she could barely make out details now, her headache was so bad.
“Migraine,” she whispered, bile rising in her throat as she struggled not to throw up. No other words were possible. She couldn’t even speak to chastise him for getting her name wrong again.
“Christ, this is bad,” he muttered before his voice grew distant.
She knew he was speaking to Pedro and Hannah, but her world was pain. Staying upright required every ounce of energy.
Emma stifled a cry as she went horizontal. For a second, she thought she’d lost the ability to stand. It took her too long to realize she was being carried.
Garrett set her down on her bed, turning off the light and crouching next to her head. “Close your eyes and rest. I’m going to get someone over here right away.”
“What?” Who was he going to call?
“Just rest.”
The words were kind, but the tone was an order.
“But Hannah is going to kick us out…” Emma had to do something.
She jerked when a heavy hand touched her forehead. “Shh. That’s my fault for pointing out the cat. I clean up my messes. So rest. I’m going to take care of everything.”
The door closed behind him.
On some level, Emma must have believed him because she let go, closing her eyes until sleep finally claimed her.
Chapter Twelve
EMMA
Dr. Saha, a neurologist who’d driven down from Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles, was there when she woke up.