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“Never.” She drills her nails against the marble countertop. “Remember that promise we made to each other when we were teenagers?”
“No.”
“Dmitri.”
I scowl and set the tumbler down a little harder than I intended. “Why do you always bring that up?”
She smirks, her amber eyes flashing with mischief. “Because I like making you say it. Go on—you know you want to.”
“Blyat’, Bee. You realize we’re in our thirties now, right?”
“I’m waaaitiiing…” she sing-songs.
“Fucking pest,” I mumble under my breath half-heartedly. “We promised?—”
“Nuh-uh-uh. The whole thing. Spare no detail.”
My eyes roll with irritation. “We pinky promised—” Bee chuckles delightedly at my correction. “—that we were always going to have each other’s backs.”
“That’s right.” She nods in gleeful triumph, just like she always does when she coerces me into playing along with her. “You and me. Mafia mates for life. Bratva buddies forever.” She holds out her fist expectantly. “Come onnn, she’s waiting for a bump.”
I glare at her tiredly and graze my knuckles against hers. “I used to think that you’d tone down as you got older, but I stand corrected. You just get more annoying with age.”
Bee bats her eyelashes at me. “Aw, that kinda reminds me of the speech you made right before you proposed. I won’t make you recount that one, but just know that it lives in my heart forever. So tender. So vulnerable. So?—”
“For the love of fucking God, Bee, give it a rest. I’m not in the mood.”
Still grinning from ear to ear, she gives me a sympathetic look. “Then therapy is in session, baby. Tell me what’s going on and don’t sugar coat anything.”
“That bristly old fuck from the clinic called.”
“Dr. Saeder? Oh, such a gem. How’s his wife doing? Her arthritis was out of control the last time I—” I fix her with a glare that sends her trailing off wide-eyed. “Jeez, okay. We’re not talking about Dr. Saeder’s wife right now. Noted.”
“Not unless it’s about arranging a delivery of condolence flowers,” I growl. “Because I’m contemplating making a widow of her soon.”
Bee straightens up and starts chewing on her bottom lip. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
“My sample was mislabeled at the lab. It’s already been used on another client. And… the insemination took.”
Her jaw drops; her rapping nails go still—even her breath catches in the crook of her throat. I can only laugh miserably, because that pale-faced, wide-eyed, this-can’t-be-real expression must be exactly how I looked when I got the call from Saeder earlier today.
My God, was that really today? It’s been the longest day of my goddamned life.
But something tells me the days ahead are only going to feel longer.
“You’re fucking with me,” Bee breathes at last.
I down the dregs of my vodka. “I wish I was.”
Her eyes dilate. “Fuck. She doesn’t even know—Aw, goddammit, she has to be made aware of the situation she’s getting herself into. Contracts need to be drawn up; NDAs need to be signed!”
“I’m aware,” I growl. “Believe me, I’m very well aware.”
She peels her hand off mine, leaving behind only the imprint of her nails. “Okay,” she croaks, running her fingertips through her hair. “Okay. Oookay. This isn’t ideal, obviously, but…” She turns to me, her eyes brightening. “—this does mean there is going to be a baby.”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately, it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“Are you going to tell me what that means or am I supposed to just start guessing?”
