She hasn’t been eating.Or sleeping.Like, at all.
Finally, she exhales. “It’s nothing to worry about. I just get nauseous sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Okay, fine,allthe time.” She points a finger at me. “And before you ask, no, it’s not just in the morning, and no, I’m definitely not pregnant.”
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She pulls a face. “Believe me, I’m missing some crucial equipment for that.”
Yep. Not getting any.“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve lived with cobwebs down there for five years.”
“In a weird way, it does make me feel better.”
I crouch and check the inside of her eyelids. “You’re anemic, too.”
“Hmm, pretty sure I’m agnostic.”
“Nik.”
“Sorry.” She throws her hands up. “Force of habit. I’m not good at talking about the real stuff.”
“Then I’ll do it.” I sit down beside her and reach for her hand. “Your life isn’t just your own, Nik. Everyone who loves you will suffer if you don’t look after yourself.”
She looks surprised to hear me say it. Frankly, I am, too. They’re Yulian’s words, not mine. I never thought I’d be borrowing them like this.
But Nikita’s family, too, and I don’t want to lose her.
“It’s not a very long list, you know,” she answers meekly. “People who love me.”
“Well, I’m on it, and so is Yulian.” I bite my lip, remembering the vicious fight they had after the shooting. “Even though he occasionally forgets how to show it.”
“Wow. You’re the queen of euphemisms tonight, aren’t you?”
I hit her with a pillow. “Just promise me you’ll eat something. And sleep.”
“Can I cross my fingers behind my back?”
“Now that you’ve told me, no.”
“Dammit.”
I throw another pillow. “I’m heating up some more mac and cheese.”
“Nooo,” she whines. “I can’t eat that. I’ll throw it all up.”
“Fine, you can have a smoothie. But I’m adding nutrients.”
“Make it strawberry, and we’ve got a deal.AndI get to pry into your life, too.”
Reluctantly, I accept the terms.
Within a few minutes, Nikita is sipping her smoothie. “So?” She blinks up at me with the fakest doe eyes I’ve ever seen. “How’s life in penthouse paradise?”
I fight the urge to throw myself face-down on the couch. “It’s… complicated.”
“Juicy. Tell me more.”
