He kisses me. Soft. Quick. “Finish eating. Get dressed. We leave in thirty minutes.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll carry you to the car in your pajamas.”
“You wouldn’t.”
His eyebrow raises. Challenge accepted.
“Fine.” I take another bite. “But you’re telling me in the car.”
“Maybe.”
“Anton—”
“Thirty minutes,malyshka. Clock’s ticking.”
Twenty-eight minutes later, we’re in the SUV.
I’m wearing jeans and one of Anton’s T-shirts because nothing else fits comfortably anymore. My hair’s in a messy bun. Minimal makeup.
I look like I’m going to brunch, not to see my grandmother for some mysterious, important conversation.
“You’re staring at me,” I say.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m in your T-shirt.”
“Exactly.” His hand finds mine. Laces our fingers together. “You look perfect.”
My chest warms despite my suspicion. “Flattery won’t distract me.”
“Worth a try.”
We drive in silence for a few minutes. Vegas morning traffic. Sun already brutal even at nine AM.
“Is this about the baby?” I try again. “Does Grandma want to talk about—?”
“No.”
“About us? About you being—?” I lower my voice even though we’re alone. “About your job?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He brings my hand to his lips. Kisses my knuckles. “Patience, my love.”
“I don’t have patience. I’m pregnant and curious, and you’re being deliberately mysterious.”
“I know.”
“You’re evil.”
“I know that too.”
I huff. Turn to look out the window.
