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Yakov looks towards the house, lost in thought. Then he blinks out of it. “You didn’t eat any lunch.”
I squint up at him. “Is that a question?”
“You’re eating for three now.”
“Tell them that,” I say, patting my stomach. “I’ve been nauseous all day.”
It could be the pregnancy. It might also have something more to do with me being on edge nonstop, twenty-four hours per day. It's almost like constant stress isn't good for the human body. But who can say?
Yakov bends down and scoops me into his arms before I can even try to resist.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"Bed.”
I’m instantly wet. But when we get upstairs, Yakov actually takes me to bed. He pulls one of his large shirts over my head and settles me under the blankets.
"I thought you might try to seduce me," I admit, sighing into the mattress.
His head is propped up on one arm, looking down at me. From this angle, he's all sharp lines and chiseled edges. "I considered it."
"What changed your mind?"
"You looked tired." He runs the pad of his finger under one of my eyes and then the other. "You haven't been sleeping very well."
I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I don't have under-eye bags; I have under-eye luggage. Under-eye moving trucks.
I press my palm to his cheek. "Neither have you. I know it's my fault."
He shakes his head. "It's mine."
My heart cracks a little. Is he ever going to forgive himself for not being there that night? He saved me. The only reason I'm here right now is because Yakov killed his way through Akim's house of horrors and got me out.
But for him, it all comes down to that one failure. The one time he wasn't there when I needed him.
"Yakov, it's not your?—"
"Go to sleep, Luna." He says it gently, but there's no misunderstanding what he means. This conversation is over.
I’m not ready for it to be over.
Any of it. Not this conversation. Or hours spent in bed with Yakov. I don’t want any of this to end, but it all feels so fragile. Like anything could rip it away.
“What happens next?” I ask suddenly.
“After sleep? Waking up, usually.”
“I mean, what does the future look like? For us?” He frowns and I’m struck with the realization that this was not the right time to casually bring up “the talk.” I ramble on, trying to salvage the situation. “Our relationship hasn’t exactly been conventional. We have a lot going on right now with the twins coming and managing the fallout from killing Akim and everything, so I don’t want to put any pressure on you. I just want to know what to expect.”
Yakov looks at me like I’m speaking in tongues. “We’re going to get married and raise our kids, Luna. What else would we do?”
He says it so simply that it takes my breath away.
I know Yakov cares about me. He’s made that clear. But marriage has never come up. I kind of assumed it was off the table. Nothing about Yakov says “traditional.”
Benjy and I dated for years and he still recoiled every time the M-word came up. I never would have been the first to say it to Yakov. Mostly because I would have been happy just to live in this house with him. But this…
"You want to marry me?" I breathe.
