Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult

acronym, as it was known.
    â€œRiz-dee,” Robert repeated coolly, staring at his wife. “Haven’t heard much about that one.”
    â€œNicholas,” Astrid said sharply, “how is Rachel?”
    Nicholas saw Paige’s face fall at the mention of another woman, one whose name she’d never heard before. He crumpled his napkin into a ball and stood up. “Why do you care, Mother?” he said. “You never have before.” He moved to Paige’s chair and pulled it out, lifting her by her shoulders until she was standing. “I’m sorry,” Nicholas said, “but I’m afraid we have to go.”
    In the car, they drove in circles. “What the hell was that all about?” Paige demanded when he’d finally reached a major highway. “Am I some kind of pawn or something?”
    Nicholas did not answer her. She stared at him for a few minutes with her arms crossed, but finally sank back against the seat.
    As soon as Nicholas reached the outskirts of Cambridge, she opened the door of the car. He came to a sudden stop. “What are you doing?” he asked, incredulous.
    â€œI’m getting out. I can walk the rest of the way.” She stood up, the moon looming behind her, soaking into the edge of the Charles River like a bloodstain. “You know, Nicholas,” Paige said, “you sure aren’t what I thought you were.”
    And as she walked away, a muscle throbbed along the edge of Nicholas’s jaw. She’s just like the rest of them, he thought, and just to prove her wrong, he sped past her on Route 2, screaming like a madman, shrieking until he thought his lungs would burst.

    The next day Nicholas was still seething. He met Rachel after her anatomy class and suggested they go for coffee. He knew a place, he said, where they do portraits of you while you eat. It was a bit of a hike, all the way across the river, but it was relatively close to his apartment, for afterward. And then he walked beside her to the car, counting the stares of other men as they took notice of Rachel’s honey hair, her soft curves. At the door of the diner, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard.
    â€œWell,” Rachel said, smiling. “Welcome back.”
    He led her to the booth he always took, and she almost immediately disappeared to the bathroom. He couldn’t see Paige, which made him angry. After all, why else had he come? He was still questioning himself when she came up behind him. She was as quiet as a breeze, and he would not have sensed her if not for the clean scent of pears and willows he had come to know her by. When she stood in front of him, her eyes were wide and tired. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
    â€œWho’s pissed?” Nicholas said, grinning, but he distinctly felt the pinching of his heart, and he began to wonder if this was what cardiac patients always tried to describe.
    At that point Rachel came out and slid into the booth across from Nicholas. “I’m sorry,” Paige said, “but this booth is taken.”
    â€œYes, I know,” Rachel said coolly. She looked at Nicholas and then glared at Paige. She reached across the table and took Nicholas’s hand, weaving her fingers through his with the quiet power of possession.
    Nicholas couldn’t have planned it better, but he didn’t expect it to hurt quite so much. It wasn’t that Paige stood rooted before him, her lips parted, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. It was that when she turned, Nicholas did not see disappointment or betrayal. Instead, he realized she was looking at him, still, as if he were mythic. “What did you come here for?” she asked.
    Nicholas cleared his throat, and Rachel kicked him under the table. “Rachel heard about the pictures and would like to have one done.”
    Paige nodded and left to get a pad. She sat at the front of the booth on