A shiver goes down my spine.
Then I see Kashmere’s keys on the little entryway table.
If I ask to take her car, I’ll just get us both in trouble again.
But if she doesn’tknowI’m taking the car, she’s off the hook, right?
It’s not that long of a drive to the old apartment building on Magnolia, and I’ll just have to pop into the mail room on the first floor. If she’s cleaning upstairs or assembling something in the nursery, chances are she won’t even notice I’m gone.
Frozen with indecision, I stare out the narrow windows on either side of the front door. There, at the edge of the hedgerow near the drive, is a scuff mark. Small, maybe nothing, but fresh—the kind that comes from shoes dragged through gravel. The gravel bed was designed to be uniform, decorative. Someone has disturbed it.
I step closer to the front window.
Then footsteps sound from upstairs, followed by Kashmere’s humming.
I palm the keys, slip into the comfortable house slippers that Konstantin had sent over, and carefully open and close the door.
It’scoldout now that autumn is starting to shift into winter, and even with the heat that this baby is generating, I end up murmuring, “Should’ve grabbed a coat.”
As soon as I slide into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, my stomach twists with… what? Not morning sickness which, by the way, I wish someone would’ve warned me isnotjust reserved for mornings.
Guilt for knowing that I shouldn’t be slipping out, alone, like this?
It’s a deeper feeling though, a tremor. Kind of like intuition… before I can pin it down, my eyes catch sight of something on the shed.
A dark maroon smear.
…Blood?
“You’re losing it,” I whisper to myself, fumbling my cell phone. I could call Konstantin right now, or text Lev. But if I do that I definitely won’t be able to run out to the apartment.
And I’ve been feeling so claustrophobic lately—only going back and forth between the house and the satellite office on the edges of the city. I miss Sottovoce. I miss the cafes, the library. It suddenly hits me that as much as I love being Konstantin’s, there are people and places from my lifebeforehim that I miss, badly.
Squaring my shoulders, I decide to run out. It’ll be quick. And just to be safe—I shoot Chrissy a text:Hey, you didn’t send a package to my old place, did you?
Um, no?she texts back.Those pregnancy memory issues starting to kick in? How can I forget that gorgeous house your mob boss lover got you?
Rolling my eyes, I start the car—thankfully, it’s a hybrid, quiet and sleek—and back out.
In less than half an hour, I reach Magnolia Street and park about a block down, staring at my old building.
I haven’t stepped foot on these sidewalks since the night Sal tried to strangle me.
Since the first time Konstantin made me feelsafe.
There’s a little fluttery feeling in my belly, and I press a hand there. It reminds me that I’m not just living for myself anymore. And, yeah, after today I need to set down some ultimatums with Konstantin.
I want to see Chrissy more, go check out a book and chat with Emil—who will be shocked I’m pregnant, ugh—maybe go to my Nana’s grave.
A sadness sweeps over me like the frigid breeze, but it’s gone quick, replaced by determination. Tonight, I’ll grab my package (what are the chances it’s a “Mafia Nepo Baby” onesie ordered in a state of humorous delirium?), go home and hopefully pass out, get up eight times to pee in the middle of the night, and start fresh tomorrow.
Find meaning outside of being Konstantin Martynov’s surrogate.
Begin reclaiming my life.
Smiling softly to myself, I gather my things. Oversized sweater, a purse that I’d downsized since Konstantin insisted I carry a new security-coded wallet instead of cash. I’m halfway across the street when that uneasy feeling scoops out my belly again.
Frozen, I stare up at the floor I used to live on. It seems so long ago now.
