"I never expected sex with an arranged husband to be good. But that man knows how to satisfy a woman. Sex was the first thing I enjoyed about my arranged marriage to Lorenzo, even before I fell in love." She looks at her baby bump. "Though lately, thebaby takes so much of my energy that this doctor-ordered break might be secretly welcome. Not that we'd ever tell Lorenzo that." She pauses. "Fee? Are you with us?" Moira asks when she sees me staring through the window.
"Sort of. I think a few of my neurons died in all this." I press my fingertips against my temples.
Eden gives me a reassuring smile. "It's an expected side effect of the drugs Kirill gave you. The fog will clear completely in the next two to three days."
"It was such a weird experience." I lean back against the chair, trying to piece together the fractured memories. "I was unconscious for some time, then woke up kind of...in a car, I think? Everything was blurry and spinning. I was worried about...what he might have done. I managed to feel that I had clothes on, or so I thought."
The memories shift and become sharper. "Next thing I know, Kirill was holding me against him, and the knife was—" My hand moves to the bandage on my neck where the blade had pressed.
Eden steps closer, gently moving my hand away from the wound. "Try not to touch it too much. The surgical tape will keep it together. It didn't need stitches, thankfully."
I look over at Moira, grateful she's safe, that my nephew is safe.
Moira reaches for my hand, her expression softening. "I'll be there for you through this, Fee. This has to be hard." She pauses, studying my face. "You're in love with him."
It's not a question.
"When I thought Anton had been shot at the docks, something in my chest just...stopped. It wasn't like worrying about Shane or Cillian. This was different. Bigger. Like losing him would break something fundamental."
Moira's expression softens. "That's what being in love feels like."
"It terrifies me," I admit quietly.
Eden stops gathering her supplies, her expression knowing. "Loving men like ours comes with special terrors."
"Come sit." Moira pats the space beside her on the hospital bed. "We're having girl talk."
Eden hesitates for a moment, glancing at her tablet, then sets it down with a smile. She sits next to Moira, like we're teenagers at a sleepover. The sight of Moira and Eden looking at me expectantly makes me smile.
"This might sound unrealistic, given our world and circumstances, but I was hoping to go on dates with him first," I say. "But we just jumped from cordial conversations, because Anton was definitely not a man of many words, straight to'Hi, I'm not a soldier but the Basov assassin and head of international ops, but I'd like to worship your body now.' And I just...went with it and...it was amazing."
Moira squeezes my hand, giving me space to talk, to process everything that's happened in the last six days.
"I love him," I continue. "That might sound a bit crazy or clingy, but that's how I feel." My voice softens. "Even though I don't know how to do this. How to love someone when every day he may not come home."
Eden nods, understanding in her eyes. "I get it. I fell for a stalker, torturer, Russian mobster." Her smile is wry. "And I wake up every morning grateful he made it through the night. That's just our reality now."
"Does it get easier?" I ask.
"No," Moira says honestly. "But you learn to live with it. Because the alternative is not having them at all."
I nod slowly, letting that truth settle. Then I squeeze Moira's hand back, needing to shift to something I can control, something concrete.
"I've decided something, Moira," I announce. "I'll go to Providence with you, help you, and stay until after the baby's born. I can be your personal servant while you're on bed rest."
"That's sweet of you, but you need to recover," Moira protests, her eyes scanning my face.
"We can be invalids together," I reply with a weak smile. "I'll read to you and the baby. My calculus textbook should put you both right to sleep."
The room fills with soft laughter, a strange, bright sound in the aftermath of so much darkness.
"I missed my calculus final," I suddenly remember.
"I can ask the doctor to write a valid excuse for a make-up test," Eden says.
"Seriously, Fee?" Moira shakes her head. "You were drugged and nearly lobotomized by a revenge-obsessed psychopath, and you're worried about a math test?"
"I even studied for it, sis."
