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“Yes.”
He changes course as I grab my phone and pull up the picture that Emma sent me last week, the day I’d given her the Mercedes.
She looked so damn happy, smiling at me through the blurry corner of the picture. It’s amazing that she can smile so big when, most of the time, she’s pushing a giant boulder up a hill.
Maybe that’s why I’m so determined to fix that stupid car of hers. And buy her kids pizza and ice cream and new shoes. I just want to make her life a little easier.
Is that really why?asks a pesky voice in my head.Is that why you just changed destinations? For her?
Or for yourself?
I swipe out of the picture and put my phone away as unease spreads through me. I had wanted to be alone tonight. I had wanted peace and quiet. Part of me still does. But another part of me—a part that’s growing louder and louder by the day…
Wants Emma Carson instead.
41
RUSLAN
I hope the kids are still awake.
That’s the third shocking thought that I’ve had in the last half an hour. This shit is getting out of hand. I ought to put a stop to it before it spirals even further.
But apparently, that concern isn’t enough to stop me from darkening their doorstep at eight-thirty in the evening.
Emma looks stunned when she opens the door and comes face to face with me. “Ruslan?”
I can hear squeals coming from one of the rooms in the back of the apartment. So the little monstersarestill awake. I wish that didn’t put such a goofy smile on my face.
Cut that shit out, I snarl at myself.
“Busy?”
She glances back over her shoulder. The living room looks like a disaster zone. It’s covered in clothes and toys and scraps of cardboard and glitter.
“Always.” She manages a smile as she turns back to me. “Did I, uh… forget something at the office?”
I shake my head. “No, I just thought I’d take another look at the car.”
Her eyes scan my navy blue suit. “I’m not sure you can be a grease monkey in Tom Ford.”
“You can doanythingin Tom Ford.”
Her laugh is drowned out as the girls come squealing into the living room, some imaginary monster hot on their heels.
The imaginary monster turns out to be Josh. All three kids stop short when they see me.
Then—chaos.
“Ruslan! Ruslan! Ruslan!” Caroline cries, throwing herself at my waist and nearly kneeing me in the balls.
“Did you bring us pizza?” Reagan asks as she pulls on the corner of my suit jacket.
“Caroline! Reagan! Give Ruslan some room to breathe, for God’s sake.”
“But Auntie Em!” whines Caroline. “He came to seeus.”
Ah, the confidence of youth.Josh helps Emma disentangle the girls from me. “He came to seeAunt Em,”Josh scolds his sisters.
