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“Roman,” I snap. “Was that you?”
“I couldn’t let you continue sleeping in that flea-ridden hostel with no locks on the door,” he says. “Do you know why nobody in the prison ever wants the top bunk?”
“So, you arranged my job, my apartment, my food. What else?”
He stares at me, his lips pressed in a thin line. There’s more, but he doesn’t want to admit to further manipulation. I think back on every stroke of good fortune I had since leaving the hostel and remember the garage sale.
“Did you arrange for that couple down the road to sell their brand-new art supplies?”
His gaze wanders to the side.
“Roman,” I say. “Use your words.”
“Yes,” he mumbles.
I shake my head and sigh. “Some might call that unselfish, but I know you well enough to understand your ulterior motive.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak.
“You wanted me to be safe and happy because you thought I was carrying your baby.”
“No—”
“That’s okay. I’m not criticizing you for that, but I want you to cancel the food delivery.”
He rears back. “Why?”
I run a hand over my belly. “You’re not the father.”
Roman picks up another piece of wood from the pile and examines it for several heartbeats. Then he sets it down, picks up another piece, and slots it into the base.
My breath shallows as I wait for him to respond. I have no idea about the depth of his manipulations. If he’s in contact with my doctor and asks for my due date, he’ll know that the baby is his.
Finally, after screwing the wood in place, he raises his head.
“No,” he says.
“No to what?”
“Giving you the things you need is my way of showing love, as is taking care of the child.”
“Why?”
“I love you completely. Every single part of you, including your baby. If you want to hate me, fine. But I can never let you go.”
SIXTY-SEVEN
ROMAN
I meant every word of what I said. Emberly means so much to me that I even love her child. When she gazes at me through glistening eyes, I know I’ve finally reached her heart.
She places a hand on the armrest and tries to rise. “Roman, there’s something I need to tell you—” Her face contorts with pain. “Ouch!”
My stomach drops. I spring to my feet, rush to her side, and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
“Just a…” She grits her teeth. “Fucking twinge.”
“Should I call a doctor?”
