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1
MEL
“Mama?”
Gabby’s anxious voice yanks me from the dark thoughts churning in my mind, the deep, aching turmoil roiling in my chest—eating me from the inside out. I turn my head toward the hall, putting down the blanket Gleb used last night and left rumpled on the couch where I sit.
As I do, I’m hit with the remnants of his comforting scent. It lingers around his makeshift bed—the one he preferred over sleeping with me on our wedding night.
I head toward the guest room, where Gabby and I will be staying. As I walk, my passionate encounter with Gleb flashes before my eyes, intensifying my hurt and confusion. Last night was so incredibly perfect. So profound. So filled with intimate pleasure. It washed away all my lingering anxiety over the pain involved with sex.
It solidified that Gleb is vastly different from the men who hurt and abused me in the past. And it felt as though Gleb and I might have finally overcome the barriers separating us.
I can’t believe that after our passionate encounter, he chose to move to the couch once I fell asleep. I didn’t even hear him go. It wasn’t until I woke up this morning that I realized he wasn’t in bed with me.
It stings to know he needed that distance from me. And the confusion it stirs in me leaves an anxious knot in my stomach.
Though the condo’s ceilings are vaulted, the short hall I enter is wide, matching the open concept of the chic living space, I still feel the walls closing in around me. The gloom of the clouds outside this morning turns the pristine, modern interior of Gleb’s home a dim gray that matches my heavy mood.
Because his rather cold and distant communication before he left for work this morning made it perfectly clear that I have a lot more effort to put in if I want to fix what I broke between us—if that’s even possible.
Forcing the tumultuous thoughts from my mind, I focus on my immediate concern, which I do know how to solve. “I’m right here, keiki,” I assure Gabby, using my Hawaiian term of endearment for her as I open the guest bedroom door.
She’s adorably rumpled, her dark hair in disarray as she looks at me with sleepy eyes. “We have pancakes with Auntie Kieri?”
“No, baby. Auntie Kieri is in Boston, and we came to New York. Remember? It’s too far to drive to see her today. But we’ll have breakfast with her again soon.”
My heart twinges as I fear how horribly I might have uprooted my daughter from her happy life. Kieri was like family—as close as a mother to me and most definitely a key person and caretaker in Gabby’s life.
It feels suddenly like a terrible sacrifice—to be without the woman who has supported me and shown us such kindness. My stomach knots as I consider the reason we fled Boston. The reason Gleb drove hundreds of miles to come get us and bring us to New York.
Vincent Kelly, cousin to Boston’s most ruthless Irish mafia boss.
I shudder at the memory of his hands on me—first lecherous, then violent when he caught me trying to run away. I made the right decision to leave. Because he didn’t just plan on possessing me—he would have made me put Gabby up for adoption. And just the thought of living without my daughter brings me intense agony.
Striding farther into the room, I settle onto the bed by Gabby’s feet, and she slips out from under the blankets to climb into my lap.
“What do you say we make pancakes, just the two of us?” I suggest, giving her a squeeze and kissing her temple.
“No Geb?” Her seafoam-green eyes—so much like her father’s—are wide with innocence, entirely unaware of the chaos her question unleashes inside of me. Even Gabby’s attempt to say Gleb’s name makes my heart pound.
Because Gabby’s newfound best friend is someone so much more to me—to her, too, though neither she nor Gleb knows just how significant their connection is. It’s yet another giant barrier that separates me and Gleb since I still haven’t worked up the courage to tell him Gabby’s his daughter.
In truth, I haven’t been so sure I should tell him. I don’t know that he’ll consider it a good thing. And even if he does, I’m confident he’ll be furious that I kept it from him for so long. He was mad enough about me running out on him three years ago. I can’t imagine he’ll take it well that I took his unborn child with me.
But if we’re going to live together under the same roof—regardless of whether something real comes out of our sham marriage or not—he deserves to know the truth. Right? The fact that he married me just to keep us safe should be proof that he deserves the opportunity to be a part of Gabby’s life.
“Gleb had to go to work, keiki,” I explain, forcing myself out of a reverie once again. “But I’m sure we can see him later. In the meantime, shall we explore his super-cool house?” I infuse my voice with enthusiasm to mask the lingering ache created by Gleb’s curt departure.
“Yeah!” Gabby says, trumping my excitement as she leaps off my lap.
And just like that, she’s wide awake.
“Maybe you can help me unpack our new things,” I suggest, opening the bag of clothes Silvia lent me. All of Gabby’s and my possessions are back in the destroyed Escalade just outside of New Haven.
“Okay!” Gabby joins me by the bag.
I pull out a small stack of toddler-size pants for her and place them carefully in her arms. As she carries them to the dresser, I follow with the bag and open the lowest drawer for her.
