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“You know that's true,” he says.

“I do.”

“And he loves you too.”

New tears sting my eyes.

“And if you think Alexei wouldn't love this baby with the exact same intensity, you're out of your ever-lovin’ mind.”

A weak laugh escapes me. Deep down, I already know he's right.

“You don't have to solve the next twenty years tonight,” Jules continues. “You just found out.”

The words sink in deep because that's exactly what I've been trying to do. Solve everything. Fix everything. Protect everybody. All at once.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” I answer.

Neither of us says anything for a while. This time, the silence feels comforting instead of heavy.

Eventually, Jules speaks again. “You have to tell him.”

I close my eyes, and the full truth of it finally takes hold. Alexei is going to be a father again. Alexei… the man I love. The thought sends my heart into another tailspin because sooner or later, we're going to have that conversation, and I have no idea how to tell him that our lives just changed forever.

“I know.”

After we hang up, I remain sitting on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at the positive test and trying to wrap my head around it all.

Then my phone lights up. My breath catches when I see the screen.

Alexei. Incoming Call.

I stare at his name while my pulse thunders in my ears. And I freeze.

10

ALEXEI

Maggie doesn’t answer on the first ring. That alone is enough to make every instinct in me rise to the surface.

I stand beside the rear window of my office, looking down at the dark ribbon of road while the phone rings again. The call connects on the fourth ring, but for half a breath, Maggie doesn’t say anything.

“Maggie.”

“I’m here.” Her voice is uneven, as if she’s been crying or trying very hard not to.

My hand closes around the phone. “What happened?”

A small sound comes through the line. Not quite a laugh. Not relief either. “You really know how to make a girl feel calm.”

The sarcasm is there, but it doesn’t reach her voice. I know Maggie well enough now to hear the strain beneath her words. She’s trying to hide it. She always does. Usually, I have to push her before she admits something is wrong.

“I know I’m late,” I say, forcing my voice to remain even because she doesn’t need my temper. “Unexpected business came up.”

“You really need a less suspicious way of describin’ your evenings.”

“I’ll consider it.”