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10
Misha
Everything sort of ground to a halt.
I hadn’t known what Sadie was going to say, but I’d been pretty sure we’d be okay.
Now I wasn’t sure of anything.
“Misha?” Her hazel eyes were worried. “Say something. Please.”
But I didn’t know what to say. It was an odd feeling. Sergei had always schooled me and prepared me to be ready to react, no matter what happened. It could’ve been a business deal that was going south or an attempt on my life by a mugger or whoever had wanted my parents dead. I always knew what to do.
Until now.
I pushed myself up from the couch and took a couple of steps back from Sadie. I needed space. I needed air.
“Misha…”
“You’re going to have to repeat that,” I said, before abruptly giving her my back. “Ebat!”
“You’re the father of three beautiful children,” she said slowly. “I know that it’s something of a surprise, but it’s nothing to curse about.”
“Surprise?” I repeated, incredulous. “I would put this more as a shock. And an unwelcome one, at that.”
I pulled my clothes back into some kind of order. I was vulnerable enough. I didn’t need to feel even more naked than I already was.
“Are you really so shocked?” she asked defensively. I turned around to discover that she was doing the same thing as me — straightening her clothes and throwing her hair up in a bun, out of her flushed face. Just a few minutes ago, it had been flushed with desire. Now, it was anger.
Regret, maybe.
“Yes, I would certainly file it under shocking,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to. “To discover that I’m the father of three toddlers is quite shocking.”
“You know how babies are made,” she said, marching out of the living room and snagging the wine bottle as she went. Oh, fuck no. She wasn’t taking the booze with her after making that little announcement. I stalked after her and took the bottle from her to take a long swig directly from it.
“We had sex once back then,” I said, glaring as she took the bottle back and stared daggers at me as she chugged.
“Once is all it takes, Misha.”
“Are you sure it was me?”
She laughed. It was full of self-loathing. “Yes. I’m very sure it was you. You know how I know? Because I am — was — so in love with you that I never wanted to be with anyone ever again. So I wasn’t. You’re my one and only.”
In any other situation, that would’ve been romantic. Right now, however, I had a hard time seeing it that way.
“You were supposed to get the morning after pill,” I said. “You didn’t do it, did you?”
“Your parents died,” Sadie said, relinquishing the bottle of wine to me very reluctantly. “You left unexpectedly. I … went through some things.”
“It was a single fucking pill, Sadie.”
“We were supposed to go together to get it,” she said. “When you left, you took my heart with you. I couldn’t function. I was so sick with grief by the time I found out I was pregnant that my mom and brother had to take me to the hospital.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I demanded, my heart clenching at the thought of Sadie sick like that.
“You were gone, Misha. For four freaking years.”
“I mean afterward. As soon as I got back. The first time I saw you. You could’ve told me right then and there.”
