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“Your new clothes,” she says. “The shopping spree you went on with Don Orlov.”
I’m out of bed and charging across the room before I can fully process what I’m doing. I rush into my empty walk-in closet.
Only, it’s not so empty anymore. Now, both sides of the closet are absolutely filled to the brim with clothes. The racks are bursting and I’m legitimately concerned for the structural integrity of the place.
“Oh my God…”
I meander through the closet, noticing all the pieces that I secretly admired yesterday at the store. There’s an army green jumpsuit and the champagne evening gown I said was beautiful.
I finger the dress, taking note of the intricate beading. I’ll look like a life-sized Golden Globe statue in this thing.
“It’s so beautiful,” Rada observes from just behind me. “That’s my favorite piece.”
So much for “not snooping.” Not that I mind.
“Thanks for your help today, Rada. But I think I need to lie down again. I’m feeling a little queasy.”
“Of course. If you need me, just ring the bell. I placed it on your bedside table.”
“Oh God…”
“Pardon?” she asks.
I wave her away with a polite smile. “Nothing. Never mind.”
I don’t bother to tell her that the thought of ringing a bell for a human being, like she’s one of Pavlov’s dogs, makes me feel extra nauseous.
The moment Rada is gone, I collapse back onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Helplessness runs through my veins.
I can’t do anything about anything—but I’m starting to make my peace with that. What’s worse is that my emotions are a mess. I have no idea how to decipher what I’m feeling. Restlessness? Regret? Hurt?
I’ve replayed the dinner too many times now to pretend like my mood isn’t directly related to what happened between Misha and me last night. For a second, I thought we might actually get vulnerable with one another. Getrealwith each other. For a second, I thought this relationship could be something more than it is.
Misha shut down that possibility swiftly.
Looks like I’ll be alone in this relationship.
Well… not entirely alone.
My hand flutters over my stomach for perhaps the first time since Misha’s doctor told me I was pregnant. “Are you in there?” I ask softly. “Can you hear me?”
With my right hand on my belly, I raise the left one to my pendant. “I hope so. Because you’re the miracle I’ve been waiting for. Please don’t abandon me now.”
When the door clicks open, I feel his presence before I see him. I jerk upright, fighting the dizziness.
“Paige,” Misha says in a flat greeting. His eyes are dark and his expression is solemn.
I turn away so I don’t have to look at him. “I would thank you for the clothes, but I’m pretty sure they had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the image you want for your future wife.”
“Both things can be true.”
I roll my eyes and sit back down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not gonna wear half the things in there. It was a waste of money.”
“I had Noel check every piece of clothing that was purchased for you. They’re all sustainable, recyclable brands from companies with a history of giving back to the environment.”
That gets my attention. I twist around to face him. “Really?”
“I’ll have him show you proof if it eases your mind.”
