"She’s pregnant," Artem said, arriving at the conclusion. "Our omega is pregnant. With our—"
"Don’t finish that sentence until we have confirmation."
Artem turned to me, his pale blue eyes alight with hope. Something I hadn’t seen in months. "Ivan, she disappeared nearly nine months ago. She’s buying a cot. What other confirmation do you need, a birth announcement in The Times?"
From the back seat, Gregor spoke. "He’s right."
Artem turned around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Did you just say I was right? Gregor, did you just agree with me? Ivan, did you hear that? Mark the date. Write it down. Gregor said I was right."
"I said the timeline is right," Gregor clarified. "Not that you’re right as a general principle."
"Still counting it."
I drove.
The rain hammered against the windshield, the wipers working overtime.
The city faded behind us, replaced by the open road.
The M1 stretched out ahead, a ribbon of wet tarmac disappearing into the mist.
Artem leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming against the door. "Nine months. She’s been gone for nine months, and she used the card."
"She knew we’d find her," Gregor said.
I smiled. "She wanted us to find her."
Gregor hummed in the back seat. A low, tuneless sound. I glanced at the rearview mirror. He was staring out the window, his face unreadable, but his fingers were tapping against his thigh in time with the hum.
Artem frowned. "Gregor, what are you humming?"
“Nothing.” Gregor started again.
"It’s not nothing," Artem insisted. "That’s—" He listened for a second, then his eyes widened. "No."
I grinned. "Is it Taylor Swift?"
Artem groaned. "It is Taylor Swift."
Gregor’s humming didn’t falter.
"Love Story," I said, horrified. "You’re humming Taylor Swift."
Artem burst out laughing. "Oh my God. Gregor, you secretly love pop music."
Gregor sighed. "It’s catchy. I heard it in the hotel in Prague."
Artem was still staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. "You remember the music in the hotel from nine months ago?"
Gregor didn’t answer, but the humming stopped.
I shook my head, still laughing. "This is the best day of my life."
Artem rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Focus, Ivan. We’re this close. We don’t want to crash the car now."
That was never going to happen. We were so close I could feel her. I could already smell her.
The air in the car was electric, charged with anticipation and made my skin prickle. Nine months of silence. Nine months of missing. And now she was so close I wanted to taste her. To hold her. And she was also pregnant with our child.
