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Nick’s response to my knock is in Russian. I know that means he’s not expecting me. I push the door open anyway.
He glances up, irritation transitioning into surprise. “Hi.”
“Hi. Are you busy?” I know it’s a stupid question as soon as I speak it.
Documents are spread across the desk, most with neat notes in the margins. His hair is messy from running his fingers through it.
“No, it’s fine.” Nick sets down the pen he was holding and leans back in his chair. “What’s going on?”
“It’s—forget it. I’ll let you get back to it.”
I turn around, intent on rushing back out the door.
“Lyla. Sit.”
Instead of leaving, I listen. I spin back toward him and take a seat in one of the two chairs that face the imposing desk.
Nick says nothing, just stares at me.
“I was just wondering, has there been any—”
“I would have told you.” He cuts me off before I can even get the whole question out.
I wasn’t going to ask about Dmitriy. I was curious if there had been a response to what Nick left to do last night. That, I don’t think he would tell me.
“Okay.” I chew on my bottom lip, choosing not to correct him. Bounce my knee and glance out the window. The floodlights are all on outside, suspending the yard in a twilight zone, where it’s dark but you can see everything.
I’m basically waiting around for Nick to kill someone—kill another person—which doesn’t sit well with me.
I feel dirty and complicit. I feel like I’m dragging Leo into a darker world I escaped and swore I’d never expose my own child to. There’s plenty I know I’m not able to offer Leo. But I thought, at the very least, I could provide a normal, stable life for a child. No corruption. No guns. No drugs. I’m failing at that now too.
But I have no other options as far as I can tell.
If I leave with Leo, I’m threatening his safety. No moral high ground is worth that consequence. I would never be able to forgive myself.
I have to trust that Nick has our son’s best interests in mind and deal with the consequences of that choice.
Leo is old enough to grasp some idea of what is going on, which is a good and a bad thing. He also knows Nick is his father now. This won’t be a chapter that’s easy or neat to close.
I sigh and meet Nick’s gaze. “I just…I’m bored. Leo has school, and you have…work, and I’m used to having an endless list of things to do. Can I help cook? Or clean? I’ve tried, but—”
Nick interrupts. “I can arrange for you to volunteer somewhere local, if you’d like. An orphanage or a women’s shelter. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”
“I told you, I never finished my degree. I’m not licensed to—”
“It won’t be an issue.” He sounds confident about it.
“Because of…” I’m not sure how to finish the sentence.Because of who you are? Because of what you do?
“It won’t be an issue,” Nick repeats.
“You get the red-carpet treatment everywhere, huh? Must be nice.”
There’s a beat of silence before he answers. “It’s easier to appreciate from a distance, I guess. If you don’t consider the cost.”
And suddenly, all I can picture is him standing in the bathroom, splashed with blood. So much red, none of it artificial. All I can hear are the words I said before I left.
Nick swirls the liquid in the glass set next to the documents he was reading, and we both watch as the liquor drips back down the sides.
