I debated whether or not to put the necklace on at all. Putting it on is a message that I’m at least willing to entertain the idea of something between the two of us. I finally decided to wear it with the idea that, if it doesn’t work out, I can tell him no. That’s always an option.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Eliza emerges from behind me and clutches at my hand, pulling at it. “Mom, can we go? Please? I want some ice cream.”
I look out the window at the bright sunshine and the blue autumn sky and back at Viktor, who might possibly look hopeful. His expression hasn’t changed too much, so I could be imagining things.
“Okay, yeah. Sure. Let’s go. Why not?”
Eliza runs to get her jacket and her boots, and I do the same.
Iliya, of course, escorts us to the park and trails us around the food fair, which is more than just a few food trucks—it’s a full-on festival. We wander as Eliza runs from booth to booth, taking whatever sample she can and crashing through piles of crinkly leaves. The air is crisp, the breeze brisk, but it’s a beautiful day. Hot apple cider and a doughnut make it a perfect day.
What makes it even better? The man strolling by my side. We aren’t holding hands, but I feel comfortable with him. He doesn’t mind when I talk endlessly.
Viktor listens like few have before, certainly none of the guys I’ve dated. It’s like I have his full attention, and everything is focused on me and only me. Not only that, but I’m almost painfully aware of his small gestures of interest; the way his hand brushes mine when he wants to show something to me, the way his hand hovers at the small of my back to guide me through the crowds. He mirrors me and smiles that ghost of a smile that makes me think he’s enjoying himself, too.
Eliza keeps darting back to show us both something she’s found, or to ask Viktor to buy something else for her until I cut her off because she’s had so much sugar, she’s never going to be able to sleep.
Viktor is indulgent with her. Not in an obsequious way, like he’s trying to gain her approval, but in a way that speaks of someone trying to build a relationship with my daughter.
My only question is, what kind of relationship do I want them to have? What kind of relationship do I wantusto have?
“Thank you for the necklace, by the way.” My fingers hover over a piece of jewelry sold at one of the craft booths, a handmade stone on a leather cord. The stone catches the light and glitters in a way that grabs and holds my eye. “You didn’t have to do that. It’s way too much.”
“It is a gift.” He says it like that’s an end to the conversation, the only reason I need. “I thought of you when I saw it. You are doing something wonderful.”
Was the necklace a gift because I’m pregnant? Because I’m carrying his child?
“I’m not even sure where I would wear it. It’s not exactly something you would wear to the coffee shop.” I laughnervously, but cut the sound off when that sharp, blue-eyed gaze that seems to look through to my soul lands on me. I can’t read Viktor’s expression, and I’m usually good at reading people.
Viktor takes my hand, his long fingers twining through mine as he studies the point of our connection, tracing the line of my thumb to my wrist with a light touch that makes me shiver. He has my full attention when he meets my gaze again.
“Tell me you’ll wear it to the gala. Come with me so I can show the world what you mean to me.”
I swallow, grasp for a reply, and find none. I want to ask what he means, ask him what I truly mean to him. Am I just the woman carrying his child? Or does he have feelings for me beyond that?
The question gets stuck in my throat, and instead, I force a smile I don’t feel.
“Of course, I’ll go with you,” I tell him. “I’d be happy to.”
A slow, pleased smile grows on Viktor’s face, and he kisses my hand and squeezes it before letting it go. “Good. Very good.”
“But I need to talk with you. To clear some things up. Tonight.” I blurt out the words as if my mother’s ghost is forcing me to confront the uncomfortable.
Viktor’s smile disappears, and for a heartbeat, I’m afraid he’s going to be angry. But then he nods. “Of course. I understand. I’ll be over at eight.”
13
LEAH
The silence in the apartment is almost deafening, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of Eliza’s laughter or the food fair’s vibrant chaos. Tonight, it’s just me.
Eliza’s at Jade’s, who popped in after work to see if my daughter was available for one of their “bad butt women’s night,” a term coined by my neighbor because she knows “bad ass women’s night” is off-limits around my seven-year-old. They’re probably covered in glitter and some of Jade’s brightly colored makeup and watching some movie with a strong female lead, Jade braiding Eliza’s hair into a hundred tiny plaits. A small smile touches my lips, a fleeting moment of peace before the storm I know is brewing.
Viktor is coming, and my stomach churns with a mix of dread and a strange, undeniable anticipation. I know we need to have this conversation. My talk with Suzie the day before had made that quite clear. We have to figure out whatweare and what Viktor’s role will be. I’m afraid this won’t be an easy conversation, though. Certainly not a normal one, if Viktor is truly who I believe he is.
I trace the faint curve of my belly, a secret world growing within me, a world that connects me inextricably to a man who is both terrifying and alluring, a man I barely understand.
