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5
PAIGE
It feels strange to wake up without him next to me. His arms were starting to feel like an extension of my body. Now that they’re gone, it’s like I’m missing a part of myself.
“Mrs. Paige?” I sit up and realize Rada is hovering at the foot of my bed. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just a little lightheaded.”
She rushes over to me. “Let me help you to the bathroom.”
I hold up a hand to slow her down. “Where’s Misha?” I look around the room, hoping that he’ll walk out of the bathroom or the closet, gather me up, and pull me back into a dreamless sleep.
But I know that if Misha was here, Rada wouldn’t be.
“He’s downstairs in his office, Mrs. Paige. With Mr. Konstantin.”
I nod. “I can get myself to the bathroom alone. Thank you.”
Rada doesn’t look sure, but she releases my arm. “I’ll get breakfast set up for you by the window.”
“There’s no need, Rada. I can go downstairs to eat.”
She glances at me nervously and shuffles from one foot to the other.
“Is that a problem, Rada?”
“Mr. Orlov told me specifically to bring breakfast up here for you.”
I suppress a sigh. “Well, I’m saying it’s no longer necessary. I feel strong enough to come downstairs. I think I’m capable of deciding that for myself.”
Rada nods quickly and slips out of the room without further argument. I feel guilty when she’s gone. I was harsh with her, but it’s only because the person I’m actually annoyed with isn’t here. It crosses my mind that if I’d woken up next to Misha, I wouldn’t have minded having breakfast in the room.
At a few points over the last couple days, I thought I'd be content to stay in this room forever so long as he was with me.
The way he took care of me, trailing warm washcloths over my bare skin, cuddling me to his strong chest like I was a fragile creature in need of shelter… I could tell that the accident scared Misha as much as it had terrified me. But we were gentle with one another, pulling ourselves and each other back from the brink of despair with a silent touch or a single word.
After all that, I didn't expect to wake up to an empty bed.
I get dressed carefully, easing my bruised body into soft, loose clothes. Then I make my way gingerly downstairs to the kitchen.
There are pancakes on the table in the breakfast nook alongside a pitcher of fresh orange juice that glows in a beam of morning sun. I’m pouring myself a glass when Misha enters the kitchen. He looks distracted. When he sees me, his frown tightens. “What are you doing down here? You should be resting.”
“I didn’t feel like staying in my room. Besides, I’m sitting down, which is restful, and I’ve spent the last two days lying down, which is more of the same. You should know—you were with me.” I didn’t plan to say anything else to him, but the words slip out anyway: “Until you weren’t.”
He grimaces, but then exhales all the tension away. “I’ll have Simone come check on you in the evening.”
“She was here yesterday.”
“And she’ll be here today,” he growls. “Tomorrow, too. As well as the day after. She’ll be here every fucking day and every fucking night until those bruises have healed and I’m confident that you and our babies are out of harm’s way. Is that going to be a problem,moya zhena?”
It’s pathetic how much I love his protectiveness. How much I cling to it like a lifeline, hoping that maybe it’ll translate to love.
The feeling I have that something is off persists, though, niggling at the back of my mind. I get the sense that he doesn’t want to stick around. Like he’s waiting for an excuse to leave me.
“Have you spoken to Rose’s family?” I ask finally.
“The funeral is being held tomorrow. I’ll tell them you send your condolences.”
