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“Anton.” I try to call out, but it’s painful to raise my voice. “Where am I?”
He ignores me and strides out into the hallway. I hear voices nearby, but I can’t understand the whispered words. Sighing, my head falls back against the pillow as I close my eyes. As the shushing whispers of Russian continue to echo in the hallway, I start listing all the things I plan to do when I’m well enough to get out of bed.
Learning Russian is going to be the first thing on the list.
“Eden?”Nikolai’s voice prods me gently, and I open my eyes when he steps into the room.
The corners of his mouth turn up gradually into a smile of relief when he sees that I’m awake.
“Where am I?” My voice cracks from anxiety and pain.
“Home.” His smile grows bigger as he approaches the bed.
“This doesn’t look like the penthouse,” I reply, still confused. “This isn’t my room.”
“You’re at the Starukhin family mansion.” Nikolai’s smile disappears behind a mask of control. “This is where every generation of Starukhins is born and raised in this country. You’re in my old room. It would have been difficult to take you and the hospital bed up the spiral staircase in the penthouse.”
Shyly, I look around, pretending I’m not taking it all in. This room is plain compared to what I’ve come to expect from Nikolai. The walls are painted a pale gray that appears lavender where the sparse sunlight hits the walls. A few pieces of dark wood furniture occupy a corner, including a rolltop desk and an old-fashioned desk chair.
“No paintings on the wall?” I ask quietly. “I didn’t expect your room to have no art.”
“In my father’s house, I wasn’t allowed to indulge in what I wanted.” Nikolai nods and picks up two photos off the desk. “Besides, I don’t need to look at art when I have these.”
He hands the photos to me, and his grin turns into a beaming smile when I gasp.
“Is that …?” I ask, staring at the two separate sonograms in my hand.
“Yes.” Nikolai leans toward me, our foreheads touching as he points to the black-and-white image printed on thin, glossy paper. “That’s our child.” He looks at me in a way that makes my feet wiggle. “Safe and sound.” He reaches for my other hand and touches it against his lips. “You should have told me, Eden.”
I pull my hand away. “You confuse me sometimes, Nikolai.” I take a deep breath, relieved that I am finally speaking the truth. “I don’t always know how you feel about me.”
My gaze stays on the photos in my hand as tears fill my eyes, but not from the pain. And though the image is very small, the relief balloons inside me, making me happier than I was before.
Safe and sound.
My hand floats down to my stomach. I’m suddenly filled with an urge to hug something soft close to me and never let go.
“I want to love you,” I whisper to Nikolai after a moment. “But I’m not sure if you want me to.”
Nikolai’s hand touches my cheek and then moves to my chin, lifting it up until his lips meet mine. His gentle touch makes me sigh against his mouth as he takes small kisses from me. I lift my hand and place it on his neck, pulling him closer and pressing my lips harder against his. I’m feeling reassured that I can finally fall in love.
I pull back and stare into Nikolai’s piercing gaze, waiting for him to tell me his feelings. I know it, but I want to hear him say it. Nikolai has said so many things, but can he tell me he loves me? He keeps me waiting.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to end the silence.
Nikolai pulls back, but his hands stay on me, gently cradling my face. “Why are you apologizing, Eden?”
I hesitate because there are too many things to list, and I’m afraid that the look in his eyes will turn to ice if I tell him everything I’ve done to hurt him. But I didn’t mean to do those things. I grimace in pain as I try to sit up again. This could’ve easily been him and not me. It could have been so much worse.
Nikolai holds me until I stop trying to move. “Eden, don’t. You have to heal for the baby.”
I nod. “I should’ve told you. I should tell you the truth.”
Nikolai sits down in the chair beside my bed. He seems heavy with responsibility as he looks at the photos again before placing them on the bed.
“You were scared,” he says. “It’s like you said. You want to love me, but you don’t know if I want to love you. But things will be different now, Eden, especially after we marry.”
“Is that still happening?” I whisper.
