“What—”
“I caught her.” He points to his head and gives a half-sheepish smile. “She’s going to be fine. Both her and the baby.”
“She told you about the pregnancy?”
Demyan nods. “She needs less stress, more rest, and yeah, she told me. I think you’ll make a good father.”
“You do?” The compliment comes out of nowhere, and it’s all I’ve really got.
Anything pithy’s gone on vacation.
Demyan sighs and motions to the waiting room chairs. It’s the private wing of the hospital, which Demyan basically owns. The waiting area is lush.
But I don’t want to sit.
I shake my head. “This is nice, Demyan, but I?—”
“Orders from Alina are clear. Neither of us is to appear until we’ve sorted our shit. And by that, I’m pretty fucking sure she means me.”
“So you think I’ll be a good father?” I ask, switching to Russian.
“I do.” He motions again, and I sit in one of the seats.
He takes another.
I wait.
“You know I love her like both a sister and my kid. Speaking of kids, Sasha should have picked up his toy, but if she hadn’t been in such a hurry to get away from me, it wouldn’t have happened. And if I didn’t move fast enough, or didn’t catch her, then…”
He shakes his head, his shoulders bunching.
“Then,” he continues, “she might have lost the baby. Or worse, I might have lost her.”
His words floor me.
He saved her, but we came close to losing her.
I’m fucking both hot and cold inside.
“It’s a big fucking wake-up call,” he mutters.
“Okay,” I say. “But what does that mean for us? Where do we go from here?”
Demyan shrugs. “I don’t know. Our relationship doesn’t just go back to how it was.”
That hurts.
But his words are a start.
I guess I get it. In his eyes, I took his sister?—
“There’s a lot to rebuild, I know. And I also know it’s going to take time,” Demyan says. “But I’m willing to put in the effort if you are.”
I could kick pride to the ground and sweep these things under the rug, but I know Demyan. He needs to show me he’s putting in the work. The effort.
It touches me. But the only person to assuage him is him.
So I just nod.
