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I don’t want him to hate me for what’s happened, and I definitely don’t want him to reject our child. But regardless of what he says, I grow more and more excited about being a mother by the day. It’s a nervous excitement. I’m absolutely in over my head. I pray I don’t have to do this all on my own.
“But we’re going to be just fine, aren’t we, baby?” I murmur.
From his place on the bed, Boris gives a low whine and lifts his head, cocking it like he thinks I’m talking to him.
“You’re right, Boris. I’m just being silly. I’ll never be alone because I have you.”
Boris sits up, his ears perking enthusiastically as his tongue lolls in anticipation. I laugh and rise from my chair, unable to resist that adorable puppy-dog face.
“Is it time for a study break?” I offer.
He yelps in response, hopping down from the bed as I collect several dog toys.
“Come on, you big ol’ beggar,” I tease.
Some fresh air will do us both good, and watching Boris play always helps take my mind off things. Even Mishka, who seems to plague my every thought these days.
The cocktail of emotions that come with thoughts of my Russian bad boy are almost more potent than I can bear. I wish I could see him, even briefly, because I’m starting to get this nagging fear that he might be avoiding me.
Normally, we might go a few days between secret rendezvous, sometimes even close to a week. But I generally get to see him briefly here and there as he and his captain drop in to speak with my father.
But I haven’t even seen him since Tammy’s birthday, and I’m starting to wonder if I didn’t scare him off by suggesting we run away together. Before I kissed him in the club, he seemed perfectly comfortable with my playful suggestions, but maybe putting the idea in the here and now made it too real. He might not actually want to be with me like that, when we get right down to it. Maybe he’s banking on our breaking up before I graduate.
I force the dark thought from my mind. “Come on, Boris,” I encourage as I pick up my pace and head down the stairs toward the front door.
My loyal dog follows jauntily, racing ahead of me as soon as we hit the landing and stopping at the front door. He sits, his caramel-brown eyes watching me intently until I stop in front of him to attach his leash.
“Ready?” Opening the door, I catch a brisk breeze and pull my sweater tighter around my body. “Maybe just a short one, right, bud?”
Boris yips excitedly, and we step outside.
“Going somewhere, Miss Sakharov?” Vlad asks from behind me, making me jump.
“Just down to the park for a bit of fetch,” I state imperiously. “You don’t need to come.”
He scowls, his expression reminding me of Mishka, only far less handsome. “Your father tasked me with your protection,” he states, as if that’s all the explanation I should need for his presence.
“Fine, then. If you’re coming…” I leave the statement hanging as I start down the front steps.
As I glance left to ensure I don’t step out in front of a jogger or some other passersby, my heart skips a beat. That’s Mishka’s white 4Runner. I would recognize it anywhere at this point. The driver’s seat is empty, and we haven’t crossed paths in the house, which means he must have come earlier and left with someone else.
It shouldn’t bother me.
It’s not out of the ordinary. My father’s house is a common meeting place for the Sakharov men. But typically, Mishka goes out of his way to make his presence known, to cross paths with me and spare a few moments to say hi—or simply give me a lingering look if a direct communication would be too obvious.
But today, he was in and out without a sound.
And that fact brings with it a fresh wave of anxiety. My heart sinks to know he was here and didn’t seek me out. Maybe he really has been avoiding me after the way I behaved at the club. I’d hoped he was just busy, but suddenly, my concern seems to hold more merit.
“Are we going?” Vlad asks, startling me again from his sudden proximity to my elbow.
I hadn’t heard him coming down the steps.
“Actually,” I say, my heart somewhere beneath my shoes and draining me of my enthusiasm, “I hadn’t realized how close the sun was to setting. I think I’ll just sit out here for a bit.”
I settle onto the bottom step of the porch, and Boris plops down willingly beside me. Good thing he’s up for just about anything because I can’t picture myself throwing around a ball right now.
Vlad seems less than pleased with my wishy-washy behavior, and I swear I catch the lowest of grumbles that issues from his chest. “Fine. But if you change your mind, come get me. I’ll be keeping an eye on you from inside.”
