Kyle’s already there when I walk in. He stands up the moment he sees me, relief flashing across his face.
“Hey,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug that’s both tender and protective. He pulls back after a beat, studying my face in the concerned way he used to when I’d had a bad day at school but tried to pretend I was fine. He’s always been good at reading me.
We sit. Coffee arrives. When I don’t touch mine, Kyle’s eyes flick to the mug, noticing.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he says. “After what happened at the gala.”
“I know.” I wrap my fingers around the mug, taking in the warmth. At least I can enjoy that. “That’s actually why I asked to meet.”
His jaw tightens. “That’s cryptic.”
I breathe deeply, exhaling slowly. Once. Twice.
I’d been on the fence about telling Kyle about my pregnancy. But sitting there across from him, knowing how much he cares about me, how much he just wants to keep me safe, and that he’s probably been losing sleep over my situation with Roman, I know what I have to do.
“I have to tell you something.”
He leans in, another concerned expression crossing his features. “What is it?”
“Don’t be mad.”
“Just for the record, telling someone not to be mad is the single worst way to lead into sharing big news.”
Another deep breath.Alright, here goes nothing.
“I’m pregnant.”
At first, he just stares at me. For a second, I wonder if he even heard me. Then he lets out awhooshof air and laughs a laugh of total disbelief. He rubs his hand over his face and shakes his head. His eyes are lit up with excitement, like he just got the best news of his life.
“Holy shit. You’re serious?”
“Trust me, this isn’t something I’d joke about.”
“Holy shit, Am.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I didn’t plan it. I swear. It just happened.”
He barely hears that. He’s on his feet in a second, helping me out of the booth and pulling me into another hug. “You’re going to be a mom,” he says. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
I half laugh, half sob into his jacket. “You’re not mad?”
His eyes flash like I just asked him a totally insane question. “Are you kidding? Mad?” He shakes his head. “Not even a little. I’m freaking thrilled. Maybe even a bit proud. And definitely excited.” He lists the emotions as if they’re occurring to him per second. They probably are. “Oh, and I’m already plotting how to murder anyone who tries to hurt you.”
“Thank you.” The relief hits me so hard my knees feel weak. After a moment, I say quietly, “It’s Roman’s.”
“Yeah, I figured. I doubt you’d have time for flings on the side while living with a Bratvapakhan.”
“I know what he is. I know what this looks like. But he’s not cruel, if that’s what you’re worried about.” My mind flashes back to last night, to the basement. “At least, not to me. And not to Sasha. He’s protective. And I know that sounds dangerous, but?—”
He raises his palm, interrupting me gently as we both sit back down. “I’ve seen dangerous, Am. I know what it looks like. Take a look at my case files sometime. Or, better yet, don’t.”
“So what are you saying?”
Kyle leans back, crosses his arms, and exhales through his nose. Then he looks off to the side in the way he does when he’s thinking something over. He always gives weight to his words—one of the reasons he’s so damn good at what he does.
“He’s dangerous, but he’s not psychotic. Big difference.” Another pause. “What I’m saying is, right now, I want you to stay with him.”
My breath catches. “What?”
