Page 16 of Don't Remind Me
As the third reporter settled on the couch across from Dani, I started to feel like maybe I had a reason to.
“He looks cutthroat,” Aubrey mumbled.
I’d witnessed the other sous chef at our last restaurant outwardly grin as the owner towered over Aubrey and screamed in her face about a misplaced box of rags she’d had nothing to do with. Her baseline for cutthroat was scaling the roof of the Comcast building.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
The reporter was a white guy at least my age, maybe older, though a frat-boy aura still clung to the lapels of his pin-striped blazer. His mouth quirked in a way that, combined with his narrowed eyes, seemed almost competitive. As if he was after something he knew Dani wouldn’t give up willingly, and it was his job to pry it out of her. A viper sensing its prey with a smug certainty that might have been intimidating if it weren’t for Dani’s easy confidence.
I hadn’t seen that confidence in her the first day we met, but the second she got in her element, it infused her like a vanilla bean did bourbon, and not even this reporter seemed to shake it.
He leaned back on the couch and crossed one leg over the other, resting his notepad on his knee. “Bill Sewick, theCitizen Daily. Miss Mills,” he began, false charm in his tone. “How do you justify using the money of well-meaning donors to throw an extravagant party in order to gain notoriety?”
My shoulders stiffened.
Dani just gave an easy smile. “The symposium is an educational event as much as a fundraiser. Some of the most notable experts in their fields are joining us to discuss possible solutions to the maternal health crisis we face in this country. With the money we hope to raise at the gala, we’ll be able to put some of those solutions into practice right here in our very own city. I believe that’s exactly the sort of impact our donors hope to make with their contributions.”
“By solutions, you mean this proposed health clinic the Healthy Birth Coalition intends to build in Colwyn? How exactly is a free clinic going to make more of an impact on maternal health than the numerous hospitals already in the area?”
Aubrey leaned in and murmured, “Jeez, what’s this guy got against health clinics?”
Beat me, but I wasn’t interested in finding out. A sour feeling wound its way around my gut.
“While hospitals provide crucial care for this city, not all have dedicated labor and delivery departments, and many are out of network or simply too far away for a large percentage of the population to access, especially those in lower-income areas,” Dani explained. “The HBC Prenatal Health Clinic and Birth Center will be dedicated to offering low- and no-cost prenatal, birthing, and infant care to an area currently lacking those services, so those who might not normally be able to afford access can have it.”
“Will abortions be one of thoseservices?” He dug into the last word like it was something he’d fished out of the trash.
Aubrey sucked a breath through her teeth, seeing as clearly as I did where this was headed.
The slightest tension pulled at Dani’s shoulders, but she kept her face composed as she answered. “Abortion is a medical intervention legal in the state of Pennsylvania. HBC believes all medical decisions should be left to a patient and their physician.”
“But will the physicians at your clinic be offering them?” the reporter asked. The snark in his tone grated my ears, and I was about two seconds from marching across the dining room and kindly inviting him to get the fuck out of my restaurant.
Why would Jillian agree to this interview? It wasn’t like it served some secret agenda of hers. She outwardly, loudly supported the right to choose.
“The entire licensed and certified medical staff of this clinic will provide our patients with the highest level of care,” Dani answered simply.
The reporter gritted his teeth, mouth twisting into a sneer. He either held genuine anger around the issue or wasn’t getting the response he was aiming for. My bet was on the latter. “The people funding your clinic deserve to know whether their money will be used to slaughter innocent babies. Will abortions be performed, yes or no?”
That was it.
I made it two steps toward the dining room before Dani’s voice stopped me in my tracks. The patient veneer she’d maintained until now shattered like glass, her new tone sharp enough to kill.
“Mr. Sewick, this clinic will be a full-service birthing center providing the same services as any labor and delivery department in this city. Go ask Philadelphia Memorial Hospital if they perform abortions, and you’ll have your answer. While you’re there, ask them how many pregnant patients they lose to heart conditions each year and how many complications they see from preeclampsia that went untreated due to lack of prenatal care. Ask them how many children in the state were born preterm due to iron deficiency anemia and how many mothers would still be alive if their depression had been diagnosed. And since I doubt you will, allow me to enlighten you.
“More than eighty percent of pregnancy-related deaths in the United States are preventable, with over half of those deaths happening up to one year after delivery. The prenatal and follow-up care that can prevent these deaths are exactly the kinds of services this clinic plans to provide. The mission—theonlymission—of this clinic is tosavelives, both the lives of those who are pregnant and of their babies, unborn or otherwise. And you and anyone who disagrees with our cause are welcome to not donate.”
Dani held herself straight in her seat, shoulders down and head high, like a fucking queen on her throne, calmly meeting the glare the reporter was trying to burn through her skull. I was ready to march over and kneel at her feet. Or maybe give her a high five and then shove my finger in the reporter’s face before tossing him out on his ass.
I didn’t get the chance. With one quirk of Dani’s brow, the reporter curled his lip with a huff, grumbling something as he gathered his things and stalked out.
Aubrey chuckled under her breath. “Right, so don’t mess with Dani. Noted.” She slapped me on the shoulder and headed back to the kitchen.
I couldn’t stop my smirk. I was smug andproudand impressed as hell.
Dani closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then stood from the couch and made her way to the bar. I pulled two pint glasses from the glass fridge and filled one with beer and one with the cider I’d seen her drinking the other night with Jillian.
When she reached the bar, she plopped into her usual end stool and slumped forward as if all the energy had drained out of her. She straightened as I approached, that defensive edge she sometimes had sharpening in her eye. It morphed to confusion as I placed the cider in front of her, then amusement as I tapped my glass against hers and raised it in cheers.
