Dima makes a noise that might be approval.
We end up at a small place three blocks from the penthouse. Private booth in the back. Lev and Dima positioned so they can see the entire restaurant.
I order pasta. Garlic bread. A side salad I probably won’t eat.
My phone sits on the table. Face up. Screen on.
Lev notices. “You’ve been checking that every thirty seconds.”
“Have not.”
“Have too.”
“It’s been five days since—” I stop. Can’t finish the sentence without my voice breaking.
“I know,” Lev says quietly. “But he’s working. When he’s working, he doesn’t check in. That’s protocol.”
“I hate protocol.”
“Yeah. Me too, sometimes.”
The food arrives. I eat mechanically. Pasta’s good. Bread’s warm. I barely taste any of it.
After lunch, we go back to the penthouse. I’m exhausted. One hour in a pool shouldn’t tire me out this much, but apparently pregnancy has other ideas.
“I’m taking a nap,” I announce.
“Good,” Dima says. “You need rest.”
“I’m not a toddler.”
“You’re acting like one.”
I flip him off. He almost smiles.
In the bedroom, I change into Anton’s T-shirt. Climb into bed. Set my phone on his pillow.
Close my eyes.
And for the first time in days, I actually fall asleep.
I wake up to voices.
Low. Urgent. Just outside the bedroom door.
My eyes snap open. The room’s darker, late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains.
First instinct—my phone. I reach for it on the nightstand, thumb brushing the screen. No missed calls. No new messages. Just a few unread texts from Jasper and a reminder about Grandma’s meds.
4:47 PM. I slept for almost three hours.
The voices continue. I can make out Lev and Dima. Arguing? No. Discussing something.
Something serious.
I slide out of bed. Move to the door. Press my ear against it.
“—can’t tell her yet,” Lev’s saying.
