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I sit under the tree, the tall one I climbed last time. A couple of guards sit on the back porch, watching me as though they expect me to leap up and grab the shortest branch again. I can’t imagine running after what Leo and I did. It was only two hours ago. Even when Ididrun, it didn’t feel like I made a choice, more like I slipped into some crazed state that twisted my head upside down.
Now, my belly is so warm and fuzzy. I keep going over the lovemaking, the first tender moments, then the rush at the end, the passion erupting and claiming us both.
I lean forward when Rosa walks into the garden. There’s a pit in my throat the closer she gets. What if she has news about Leo? I keep thinking about him getting into a gunfight, but unlike in the forest and at the house, he won’t be lucky this time. The bullet will slip through a gap in his bulletproof vest. My heart shudders when I remember the sex, the bruises across his muscled ribs.
Rosa’s hands are clasped in front of her. Her hair is in disarray, and I’m sure there are tears in her eyes as she approaches. I jump to my feet, imagining the worst in a thousand different scenarios, all at once, all the ways they could’ve hurt my man.
“What is it?” I demand. “What happened?”
Rosa stops and says nothing. She’s not crying. It was the light dancing in her eyes. Her expression is difficult to read. She just watches me.
“Rosa?” I yell, knowing I should contain myself, but I can’t stop hearing Leo say the L-word over and over—thelovethat feels like the most certain thing in my life. God help me, but it feels even more certain than my oldest and closest friendship.
“Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay. Rosa, please…”
Finally, she nods. “That’s why I’m out here. The FBI beat them to it. Fyodor is going to jail. So are lots of the higher-ups in the Bratva.”
I almost stumble against the tree. It’s like whiplash, living in one reality where my man is dead and then suddenly, blessedly, emerging into this one.
“Okay, good. Oh, thank God.” I wince when I realize what I’m doing. “I’m sorry, Rosa.”
To my surprise, she lays her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. I did that on purpose. I waited before I told you what happened to him. I wanted to see if you really cared. I wanted to see howmuchyou cared. You’ve never been a very good actress. Do you remember when we joined the drama club in school?”
I laugh, but I’m also crying. She is too. It’s pure emotion bubbling up in us.
“Yeah, for one session,” I say, placing my hand atop hers, pressing down because even if she yanks it away in a second, at least we have this.
“You love him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I say because I’ve lied enough.
“He loves you too. When we were talking, I could tell that right away. I’ve always thought I knew how Dad sounded when he was in love or talking about love. In hindsight, I don’t think I ever did, but with you, it’s the real thing. I can tell.”
“Rosa, I’m so sorry. I wish it weren’t him.”
“Do you really?”
“Nothim, as in Leo, but I wish he wasn’t your dad. I wish this didn’t have to put our friendship at risk. It’s not fair.”
“Have you slept together?” she asks bluntly.
I hesitate, and she shakes her head.
“Honesty, Emma. Please.”
“Y-yes,” I whisper. “Right before he left to fight the Russians. We didn’t plan it. I didn’t even mean to, but that’s not fair. We did it. Wechoseto do it.”
She nods. “And you meant it before? About wanting children? A family?”
“As crazy as it sounds, yes. We both did. We both want to be together.Reallybe together. Like when we were in school and used to talk about our future husbands. How romantic it would be. Howcertainwe’d be. I’m sure, Rosa. I know you might hate me for it, but I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
“I could never hate you,” she whispers, pulling me into a hug.
I wrap my arms around her. We both burst into tears, gripped by the emotion, trembling together as we struggle to process everything we’ve just shared.
“You can’t ever break up,” Rosa cries in my ear. “Do you understand, Emma? Maybe I can somehow process all of this. Maybe I can accept that one day you’ll be my stepmom. I’ve thought about it alot, and I think I could. With some work, I could get my head around it, but if you broke up, and I had to choose…”
“That willneverhappen,” I tell her.
