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Chapter 42
Chapter 42
“Do I look ruined? That’s a rhetorical question–hell no, I don’t. Pasha didn’t ruin‘ me. He freed me. I ought to send the man a damn fruit basket.
“But-”
“Shush. No. I was suffocating in that world. Mom never let up on her criticisms and Dad was always trying to find a way to wed me off like it was a business transaction. Why do you think I started an OnlyFans in the first place? I wanted my freedom. My own money, my own terms, and for once, it was nice to have people appreciate how I look rather than pointing out every microscopic flaw.”
My fork feels heavy as I slowly stir the ramen. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Stop that. Don’t be. My only regret is that I didn’t do it myself. I just didn’t have the balls to tell them I was leaving–and quite honestly? I was convinced they’d hunt me down and drag me back in. So when Mr. Chekhov ‘exposed‘ my little side gig…” She sighs wistfully and rests her head on her hand. “I could have kissed him right on his arrogant lips.”
“Yo!” Jameson’s voice calls from their kitchen.
“I’m not gonna!” she calls back to him with a laugh. “Anyway, point is, I’m actually pretty fucking elated you’re with him. It’s so so… so poetic?”
“Well, I mean, we’re not ‘together‘ together-”
“Nah, you’re just having a baby together. Immaculate conception, right?” Mel sticks her tongue out at me as I do her, and giggles. “Really, I am living for the drama that must be unfolding at the Hamish estate. And what does Pasha think about all this Shakespearean madness?”
I busy myself with the noodles and use it as an excuse not to answer right away. “I, um… I don’t think he knows. Our connection, I mean. That you’re my sister.”
“Oh.” Mel blinks in confusion. “Really?”
“I may have changed my last name and just… not told him about it?”
Mel snorts. “I don’t blame you. On the name change, I mean. But really, you should tell him sooner rather than later. You don’t want that mess to blow up with a baby in the mix.”
“I will. Soon.” I sigh. “Maybe.”
“Well, if you do and it doesn’t go well, you know where we are. You always have a room here with your name on it. Fair warning, though: I’m gonna spoil my niece so disgustingly rotten…”
We share a laugh and I’m about to launch into the finer details of nursery design when I hear the front door open. Pasha’s familiar heavy footsteps make their way through the front room; I can hear him heading toward the kitchen.
“I gotta go. Love you! Bye!” I hang up.
“Who’s that?” Pasha asks when he enters the kitchen, a frown on his face and a round container of something in his hand. He eyes the tablet with suspicion.
“My sister. She says hi.”
“Hm.” He shrugs and sets the container down on the island counter. “How’s dinner?”
I show him my half–eaten bowl of ramen. “Delicious, as promised. I’m stuffed.”
Surprisingly, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Saving room for dessert?” When I nod, that smile grows a bit wider. “Good. Because my mother-” He lifts the lid off with a flourish. “-made this for you.”
“Oh. My. God.” I almost drop my fork at the sight of this multi–layered, powdery confection. “This thing is huge! What is it?”
“Honey cake.” Pasha rummages through the drawers and cabinets for a few small plates and cutlery. “She said it was specifically for you, but y allowed to share if you want.”
I can take a hint when I hear it. I flash him a playful smile between stuffing my face with the brothy noodles. “I guess I can share.”
- wi. Cide Chick Ruin Mu Painting Now He Regrets
36.3%
Chapter 42
He passes me a fork and we dig in together. The first bite is organic, the second the darkly is. “Tell me more bod your marker, I mantle through a mouthful of enger “Clearly, the biker
“Wakes, cooks, and drives me insane. But Vacha charkies when he says it. He lays a fork day cake on a place and defer to the courdertop to me. “She wants to meet you,” he adds.
“Does she?” I try not to choke on the spinach. “Why?”
“Because you’re the mother of her first grandchild, Kids are important to bey”
I watch him plate another dice for himself. He sits down on the other bar stool and seems to be waiting for me to finish my ramen. The way he’s so calm and casual and easy about it, I have to wonder “Just her?”
Pasha’s brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
Melanie’s voice still rings in my ears. Or do you just try to avoid conflict and confrontation? I slide the bowl of noodles aside and today the honey site plate in its place. “I don’t know. I think I’m just wondering, like how far this goes. For you. I mean, I get that it’s important for you to have an heir “1 poke at the cake with my fork, avoiding his gaze. “But is that it?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, I don’t know if he’s insulted, or if I’ve pissed him off, or what. I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer is “all of the above.” And when he slides off his seat, I’m pretty sure he’s too disgusted with me to stay here.
But then he’s right behind me.
His hands spread wide over my womb, his arms wrapping around me, God, he smells so fucking good. I feel the solid wall of his chest press against my back and when he speaks, I’m suddenly aware of how close his mouth is to my ear.
Is he aware of what he does to me?
“I’m right here, Daphne. And I’m going to be right here, with you, through everything. Every doctor’s appointment, every first word and first step, every dirty diaper. I’ll be here for soccer games and parent teacher conferences. I’m not going to miss a single recital or school play, or science fair, or driver’s ed.”
His lips lower to the pulse just behind my ear.
“I may be busy. I may be brutal. But nothing matters more to me than my family. Our daughter is my family. You are my family.”
I rest my hands on his so we can feel our baby flutter and kick together. When his fingers lace with mine, I can feel myself sink deeper into his warmth “You’re stuck with me, moya plamya,” he rasps. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”
I turn my face to look up at him. Fuck, he is so close. I could… if I wanted….
But I don’t. I don’t know where those lines are crossed.
Not that we had any lines at the start.
It’s good that I didn’t make a move, because he blinks, then steps away from me and leaves the room.
His honey cake isn’t even halfway finished.
