I breathe. In. Hold. Out.
My hand drifts to my stomach.
“Hi, baby,” I whisper. Too quiet for anyone else to hear over the water. “We’re floating. Your dad would probably hate this class. Too slow. Too… peaceful.”
But would he come if I asked? Would he sit in those bleachers like Lev and Dima, watching me bounce and float and breathe?
The image makes me smile despite everything.
Anton. In swim trunks. Sitting in the pool bleachers. Probably scowling at Bethany’s excessive cheerfulness.
This is ridiculous, malyshka.
It’s good for the baby.
I could think of better ways to exercise.
Behave.
Make me.
My throat tightens.
God, I miss him. Miss his voice. His hands. The way he—
My stomach growls.
Loud.
Several women turn to look at me.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Apparently, swimming makes me hungry.”
Bethany laughs. “That’s completely normal! You’re burning calories, and Baby’s growing. Listen to your body.”
I look down at my still-flat stomach. “You hear that? You’re making me hungry. Already demanding things and you’re not even the size of a lime yet.”
Another growl.
“Okay, okay. Lunch. I hear you.”
After class, I change quickly. Lev and Dima are waiting outside the locker room.
“How was it?” Lev asks.
“Wet.”
“Helpful?”
“Actually… yeah. Kind of.” I adjust my bag. “My back feels better.”
“Good.” He’s already moving toward the exit. “Lunch?”
“Starving.”
“Italian or Thai?”
“Italian. Carbs. Lots of carbs.”
