His gaze drops briefly to my stomach before coming back to my face. He looks lost and unsure how to proceed.
“I know,” he answers with a small smile.
But his voice betrays him. He doesn’t believe me at all.
I step around him and go to the fridge, trying to find something to eat, but I’m too distracted by him to really see anything. My hands shake a little, so I curl my fingers tighter around the refrigerator door to steady them. I can feel him watching me. Waiting.
“You disappeared so fast after we got home,” he says quietly. “I didn’t have a chance to ask how it went with Anya.”
I pull out the first thing I can really see. It’s a container of leftover soup I made earlier. My throat feels too tight.
“It was good.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “She’s really sweet.”
“It seems like she liked you,” he says carefully. “Davýd was almost speechless.”
I shrug again, still facing the counter, still not ready to look at him.
“Kids usually do,” I tell him. “It’s the teacher effect, I think.”
“No,” he says, getting up and stepping closer to me. “She doesn’t respond to anyone. I don’t mean she doesn’t like people, I mean she’s usually completely shut down, from what Davýd tells me. You got through to her in a way no one has in a long time.”
I turn halfway toward him, realizing he’s closer than I thought.
“She’s a child, Samuil,” I say, moving to the microwave to get a little more space from him. “She just needed someone gentle today. Someone patient.”
“Maybe,” he concedes. “But I think you have a gift.”
The way he says it makes my breath catch. It’s like he sees me in a way that no one ever has. Like he sees the mother I’m going to be, and the person I’ve always wanted to become.
It physically hurts to finally be seen by someone, especially when I’m not sure he’s someone I want to see me so clearly.
“You’re going to be a good mother,” he continues, invading my space again.
My throat closes around a painful lump.
“Don’t do this,” I say quietly.
“Don’t do what?” he asks hoarsely.
“Don’t say things like that when…” I swallow hard. “When we’re like this.”
“Like what?”
I finally meet his eyes. “When I don’t feel safe with you. I’m not sure that I can trust you to keep our child safe without completely suffocating them.”
The words land like a blade. He flinches at them and takes a step back, inhaling sharply.
“Molly,” he says quietly, incredulous, “how can you think that?”
“How can I not?” I nearly scream. “You hurt people for a living. You make your money in blood. Don’t forget, Samuil, I saw you murder a man. You didn’t even flinch.”
“I would never hurt you,” he says, his voice breaking.
“I’m not worried about you hurting me,” I tell him honestly. “But how many people want you dead? How many people would kidnap our child or me without a second thought, just to get to you?”
His jaw flexes. Slowly. Controlled.
“I would never let that happen,” he says forcefully. “If you believe one thing about me, believe that I will always protect you.”
