Page 28

That’s where Natalia finds me—crouched by the porcelain goddess in worship when she returns. She sets the white paper bag from the pharmacy down and rushes over to me, holding my hair as she gets some tissue for my mouth. The dribbling spit drips from my chin and snot from my nose. This is awful. I hate it already and I don’t know if I'm even pregnant. But if I'm only a few weeks pregnant and it’s this bad, God help me for the rest of the pregnancy.

"Oh, God," she mumbles as she ties my long hair up with a ponytail holder and hovers at my side. "Lana, this is awful. You need to see a doctor."

When the worst of the dry heaves subside, I dab my face and blink more tears out of my eyes. "For what? I'm not sick, Nat. When have you ever seen a sick person retch like this but not vomit?" Sitting back, I heave a sigh and grimace. My mouth is so dry, my nose stuffed up.

She scowls at me and reaches for the paper bag, thrusting it out toward me. "I got what you wanted, but now you owe me an explanation—a true one." Her eyebrow lifts in skepticism and accusation, and I wilt.

"That's not happening," I tell her, forcing myself to my feet. She rises too, and her scowl deepens. It's not anyone's business what's going on in my private life, but she's going to pry it out of me or blackmail me. If I don't fess up, she'll tell our parents, and though I'm an adult, they'll demand answers. If I don’t give them, they'll cut me off. How can I raise a baby if I’m cut off from my source?

That is… if I'm pregnant.

"Just go out and let me think," I tell her, so she slinks out the door, shutting it behind her, but I hear her moving around in my bedroom. She's probably snooping, hoping to find some evidence as to whom I've been with or where I've been going when I sneak out.

My hands shake as I tear open the box and pull out the foil pack containing the test. I've never taken one of these before so I read the directions carefully, much to Natalia's protest. She's at the door every two minutes with "what's going on?" and "did you do it yet?" When I finally take the test and set it on the sink, I think I may throw up again, but I manage to hold it down while I wash my hands and my face.

But nothing could prepare me for those two little pink lines. It doesn’t even take them long at all to form, either—certainly not the three full minutes I'm supposed to wait until I read them, and Natalia is sick of waiting. She knocks but she bursts through the door I should've locked just as I'm reading the results.

"My God, you're pregnant, aren't you?" she asks after one glance at my face. Her hand snatches the test out of mine and I sink to the edge of the tub in shock.

It's not that I don't want to be a mother. I do. I've always thought I'd find the right man, settle down, have two or three children, at least one of each. But not like this. And definitely not a Sokolov baby. If I thought sleeping with him complicated things, what the heck was I thinking having unprotected sex anyway?

"Holy shit, Lana. Dad's gonna flip," she says, but she's smiling as she says it. I'm the black sheep already, mostly because I oppose their little "wedding plan" and I won't stay silent about things. This will just make things so much worse for me.

"Shut up, Nat."

"Lana, you're having a baby. What the fuck." She snorts a laugh and tosses the test wand into the sink, then runs a hand through her mussed hair. She hasn't had her morning shower or eaten breakfast. She came right to my rescue when she heard me throwing up. Now this whole day will be overshadowed by all of this, and I'm never going to live this down.

And what the fuck will Dimitri think? He's already asking me shit like "can we have that future we dreamed of somewhere else?" He'll never accept my terminating the pregnancy, and adoption will be unthinkable to either of our fathers. The plan of keeping our families on separate sides of the fence is over now. There's no way to undo this.

"So, are you going to give me details?" she asks, nudging my bare foot with the toe of her shoe. I pull away, feeling tears welling up. I'm just a crybaby. I always have been. But lately, I’ve been more sensitive too, and now I just know I'll have stupid pregnancy hormones like every woman I've ever heard of and I'll be bawling nonstop.

"No," I hiss, covering my face. I'm embarrassed because my body wanted something my brain knew was wrong. I'm humiliated because I still want it—and not just the sex. I'm in love with fucking Dimitri Sokolov and I don't know what to do about it.

"Who is it?" she insists, nudging me again, and my cheeks burn. "Tell me, Lana. Do I know him?"

I lift my eyes up to look at her and see the curiosity there. She's my sister. She's going to find out anyway, and if I don't tell her, it'll seem like I don't trust her or want her to know. I do. I just don't want her to tell our parents. No one can know until I know how I'm going to handle it.

"Swear you won't tell," I grumble.

"Yeah, sure."

"No, Natalia. Tell me you give me your word that you won’t say anything to anyone, ever. Not until I break the news."

Her face pales and she closes the toilet lid and sits on it. "Yes, Alana. I swear. You know me. I won't tell anyone ever, not even Mamochka or Batya."

The bile in my throat threatens to come up again, belly churning, and I feel a sinking feeling in my gut, but there's no way in hell I'm going through this alone.

"It's Dimitri Sokolov," I tell her, and I watch her blanch.

This is not going to go well.

19

DIMITRI

I'm pacing the church foyer waiting for Alana to arrive and my brain is going too fast. We haven't spoken very much since the dinner that turned a little impulsive and sex in my car, so I don't know what she's thinking. I've been riding this emotional edge of anxious panic and tight control for too long now. Maksim says I'm losing it. But I'm not. I just need her.

Somewhere along the line, Alana got into my head and under my skin. I eat, sleep, and breathe obsession with her. I want her in my life, and I know I've damned the cost, thrown caution to the wind, and fucked up my entire future, but it's what I want. Nothing will make sense without the woman I've fallen for in my arms. Without her, there's no reason to stop this wedding—there is, but those reasons all seem too selfish now.