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But he isn’t.
I have no choice but to face this challenge head-on.
You’ve done damn good so far, Paige.
I try to stay calm and think rationally, but it’s almost impossible. Deep down inside, I’m howling hysterically. I walk slowly and painfully into the kitchen to get my phone.
I might have to call Emma after all.
Or I can call him.
No.
Once I call Andrei, he’ll swoop back into my life and control it. No. I’ve done too much and come too far on my own to go back.
Pain surges and flares through my body and I gasp out loud. My phone slips out of my hands, skates across the kitchen table, and clatters to the floor. I pant, waiting for the pain to pass before I can even move to pick it up.
Is my pride more important than my daughter’s life?
It’s not your pride, Paige. The man is a criminal that walks down a path of destruction. Do you want to lead him to your daughter?
This is wrong.I need someone. If Andrei knew I needed him … He wouldn’t want me to do this alone.
I wince and barely hang onto my phone with my fingertips. I have to call Andrei.
Then, as if answering my own prayers, his name lights up before I touch the screen.
“Hello?” I gasp into the phone.
“Paige, it’s Andrei.” His voice is urgent. “Paige, are you there? We have to talk.”
“I’m going into labor.” My voice is a terrified whisper. I can barely speak over the pain. “I can’t get to the hospital.”
I hear fumbling on the other end and then his voice—deep and familiar—comes through again. “I’m on my way. Hang on.”
The pain eases slightly at his promise, and I try to focus on my breathing like I was taught in class. I picture the teacher sitting cross-legged in front of us, her hands on her belly, breathing in, and exhaling each breath as if she savored the feel of the air in her lungs.Think of gratitude,she told the class.I imitate what I can remember and count each breath, but the pain is becoming more and more intense.
And buried within the layers of pain, a warmth is bubbling inside of me.Andrei is coming! He’s coming for me.
I’m thankful for the exercises I’ve done to prepare for this moment.I chant the mantra in my head, unable to bring the words to my lips.Thankful for the classes I’ve taken that taught me the techniques for coping with pain. I’m thankful ...
“OH FUCK!” I shriek as I grab my belly as another surge of painful contractions shreds through my body. “Where the fuck is he?!” I scream to no one.
I will breathe deeply. I will find my center and strength in knowing that I am capable of doing this on my own.
“No, no, no!” Tears dot my face. “It hurts! It hurts too much!” I scream again, fooling myself into thinking that it helps me feel a little better.
Slowly, I move from the kitchen to the living room couch. Tears form in my eyes as the contractions grow more frequent. My breathing is more labored. I scream out in pain as I stare at the front door, waiting for the moment he comes in.
And then he does, and relief floods through me again.
My husband. My pakhan. My beautiful monster. The father of our child.
His dark eyes are glimmering with concern when he kicks the door open to find me sprawled across the carpet, biting on a cushion. He scoops me up until I’m in his arms like I’m weightless. I squirm from the pain, but I know I’m safe.
He has me, and everything will be all right.
When we get outside, I stare at the Lamborghini as if it’s a clown car that’s too tiny to fit one more.
