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“I know it doesn’t make any sense now?—”
“No, it doesn’t. It sounds like you were just trying to keep me out of your life.”
“Moya devushka, I married you because I wanted you in my life. Forever.”
“Why?”
I blink, confused. “Why what?”
“Why did you even ask me to marry you?” she explains. “Was it some twisted attempt at controlling me? At making sure I could never leave you?”
I hate that she’s even gone there. That she’s questioning our marriage now, too. But I’m the one who’s brought this on by lying to her in the first place. I have only myself to blame.
“No, it was not.”
“Then why?” she presses softly. “You could have proposed, yes. But we didn’t need to get married immediately. We could have waited until the baby was born. Until I knew about Bee. But you insisted it all happened right away.”
At that, I stop the car in the middle of traffic. Horns blare as cars swerve around me, furious, but I don’t give a fuck. This needs a moment.
I turn in my seat to face Wren in person.
“Yes, I did. Because that night in the hospital, for the first time in my adult life, I was fucking terrified. I didn’t know what was going on and I was convinced that I was going to lose you.” Wren’s face is frozen, not certain yet which way to crack. I keep going. “That fear made everything clear to me. I realized that what I felt for you went so far beyond love. I realized that you were the most important person in the world to me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of living my life without you. And I figured, if by some cruel twist of fate, life took you from me or me from you, I wanted you to be my wife first.”
What I would give to reach out and touch her now. It feels like forever since I last held her in my arms. If space weren’t what she needed, it would be intolerable.
“As I said before, Wren, I’ll give you the time you’re asking for. As much of it as you need. But I also need you to understand that I’m not giving up on us. Not now. Not ever. We are a family. You and Mischa, you’re the only things in the world that matter to me.”
“What about your Bratva?”
“I would give up my Bratva in an instant if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me.”
I hold her eyes. She holds mine. More cars honk in fury, but I still couldn’t care less. This break in time is for my wife and me.
This is healing.
This is hoping.
This is forgiving.
At least, that’s what I want it to be.
In the end, she blinks first, breaking our hypnotic eye contact. “We should go inside,” she says quietly, reaching for the baby bag.
“Leave it. I’ll get it.”
She nods, allowing herself to give me a small smile that flutters at the corners of her mouth like a ghost and disappears too soon. “Okay. Thank you.”
It’s not progress. Not exactly.
But it’s something.
44
WREN
The rattle falls out of my new friend Jessica’s hand and clatters to the floor, rolling to a stop a few inches shy of Mischa’s head.
“Shit!” Jessica exclaims, rushing to retrieve it. “I’m so sorry, Wren.”
