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Confused, I glance at Michail, but he’s refusing to look at me.
“All right.” He stands and kisses Sarah’s forehead. “Give me a moment to speak with Alessandra, and then I’ll be back. We’ll talk.”
He turns and stalks past me, doesn’t even look at me. The chill I felt on the back of my neck when we first arrived pierces my skin, spreads through my veins like ice water.
I follow Michail out the front door and onto the porch, closing the door softly behind me. He’s standing at the railing, hands braced, shoulders bunched.
“You told her.”
“No, I—”
“You said something.”
“She made the connection. I wasn’t prepared for it.”
“So you told her.”
Irritation firms my voice. “No, I didn’t. I told her it wasn’t my story to tell.”
He whirls around so fast I take a few steps back. “But you didn’t deny. You didn’t tell her that everything was fine. Instead, you let her fall back into a past she has worked for decades to escape.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you blaming me for this?”
“Yes. She was happy, Alessandra. Happy. Content. Who knows what this will do to her?” He runs a hand through his hair. “This could set her back years, all because I trusted you, and obviously I shouldn’t have.”
My body goes numb. There’s one split second of the most intense, heartbreaking pain I’ve ever experienced. And then it’s gone, leaving behind a void where there’s no emotion, no anger, no heartbreak. Just nothingness I wrap about myself like a shield.
Michail stills. His breath comes out in a heavy rush.
“Alessandra—”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t. You said all you needed to say.”
He swears. “Look, I—”
“I know.” I drift over to the railing, stare out over a field of flowers clinging to the fading warmth of summer. “I’ve made a mistake.”
“What?”
“I mistook what we shared in the last week for something more.”
He grabs me by the shoulders and spins me around. “Don’t. Don’t erase what happened between us this week.”
“Why not? You did.”
Something that might be pain flashes in his eyes, tightens his jaw. But I don’t care. Eventually, when I crawl out of this numbness, I know the ache I will experience will be ten times what he’s feeling now.
“I thought maybe something could develop between us, something that would go beyond a year.” His eyes widen a fraction. “But I was wrong. You told me from the beginning that you struggle to trust, to let people in. You told me, and I should have listened.”
He reaches for me, but I step back.
“I’ll honor our agreement for a year. I still want you to be involved in the baby’s life. But I’m moving back into my apartment.”
His eyes blaze. “No.”
“Yes. Unless you want to explain why you locked a pregnant woman up in your penthouse, you’ll let me go. No more pretending. No more playing house. I have a job. My own apartment. You have your penthouse. I’ll accept help for the baby, but that’s it. Nothing unless it’s for the child.”
“Damn it, Alessandra, this isn’t a game. I care about you.”
