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As soon as he spots me, he races over. “What happened? Cyrille told me you were having pain.”
I shoot a glare at that traitor, Cyrille, who winks in return. “I was, but I’m fine now.”
“What do you mean?” Before I can answer him, he turns to Dr. Mathers. “What was it?”
“Braxton Hicks contractions. Completely standard. Painful but harmless. Both Paige and the babies are doing fine. Everyone’s healthy.”
“You’re sure of that?” Misha asks. “Absolutely certain?”
“She needs a stress-free environment,” Dr. Mathers says. “But yes, she’s fine. So fine, in fact, that I’m going to pack up and head off.”
Misha’s jaw ticks with the tension rippling through him. He walks Dr. Mathers to the door, murmuring to her under his breath all the while. Cyrille gives me a reassuring smile before she departs, too.
Once we’re alone, Misha stays close to the door. He doesn’t turn to me right away, and I wonder if he’s going to make a run for it.
“Planning your escape route?” I ask bluntly.
He sighs and turns to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’d be better if I knew you weren’t going to run for the hills the moment I say I’m fine.”
“I’d be better if I knew you and my children weren’t going to—That you’re fine.” He drags a hand through his hair, and I can see how scared he really is.
“You heard the doctor. I’m fine. So are the babies.”
Nothing I say seems to be connecting, though. He looks at me, but there’s a thread of uncertainty that I can’t quite understand.
“Misha,” I say softly, “talk to me. What’s going on with you?”
He gestures to the bed. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed. You want anything to eat? Drink?”
I feel my hopes dwindle. “I have a maid and a chef, Misha. You know that.”
I ignore the bed and go for the window seat instead. I curl my legs underneath me and stare unseeingly out the window. I expect him to slip out of the room and leave me to brood, but then I feel him standing behind me.
I turn around, eyebrow raised, waiting for whatever is coming next.
“You can ask me for something right now, and I won’t deny you.” His face is neutral, but his eyes burn. After the last few days, I know what he thinks I’m going to ask for.
“Anything?”
“Within reason,” he adds on quickly.
“Okay. I’ll keep it simple then.” I lift my chin and face him head-on. “I want you to take me out on a date.”
He blinks. “A date?”
I nod. “We don’t even have to leave the house. But you have to make it feel like a real date.”
He considers it for a moment and then exhales slowly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”
I’m happy, but he seems distracted by something on the table in front of me. I glance over and see that he’s looking at my phone.
“I haven’t texted Rowan,” I tell him before he can ask. “I promise.”
“You don’t have to promise. I know.”
I frown. “Have you had my phone tapped or something?”
