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Silvia’s voice stops short as soon as it enters the hall, and a moment later, as Gabby sits up, I see why. She and Mel exited the nursery together, and they both stopped mid-stride to stare at me with stunned expressions.
Color creeps into Silvia’s cheeks as a warm smile stretches her lips.
But Mel is all I see.
Her reflective onyx eyes are wide, her lips parted in surprise, and the heartbreak that flashes across her face rips a fresh hole through my chest. Barefoot and dressed in pastel-striped sleep shorts and an oversized gray T-shirt, she’s tied in a knot at her waist; she looks as beautiful as always.
Slowly, reluctantly, I lower Gabby back to her feet, my gaze never leaving Mel’s. And adrenaline courses through my veins as I face the woman with the power to completely shatter my world.
“Can I…?” I swallow hard as my heart breaks into a sprint. “Would you be willing to take a walk with me?” I ask, my mouth suddenly parched.
“Sure,” Mel agrees, her voice soft but measured.
“I’ll get the kids some breakfast,” Silvia offers, bouncing little Nicolai on her hip.
“Thanks,” Mel breathes, tearing her eyes from me to look at Pyotr’s wife.
Gabby takes Silvia’s finger as she holds out a hand to the little girl, and all four head to the kitchen without another word. Pyotr clears his throat, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. Then, with a nod toward each of us, he follows his wife from the hall.
Tension hums through my muscles, and I shift my gaze back to Mel as she takes a reluctant step forward.
36
MEL
Air trapped in my lungs, I scarcely dare to trust myself alone with Gleb. I’m so torn between hurt and mad and sad and desperately in love, I don’t honestly know what might come out of my mouth. And that terrifies me.
Still, I follow his lithe, almost catlike strides down the hall, through the entry, and to the front door. And despite myself, I can’t help sneaking a peek at his broad shoulders, the trim contours of his back beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
He steps to the side to hold the door open for me, and heat creeps into my cheeks as he catches me looking. My heart skips a beat as I pass him to go outside.
The air is cool and crisp. Birds chirp merrily in the trees, and Vlad gives me a silent nod of greeting as I pass him.
But I can’t seem to find comfort in the early-morning peace. Adrenaline pounds through my veins, leaving my knees wobbly as I descend the paved steps. The course texture is like sandpaper against my palm as I run my hand along the cement railing to avoid collapsing.
Despite my heightened awareness of his presence, Gleb catches me by surprise as he appears by my side. I bite back a nervous squeak as he falls into stride with me. And trying to maintain my composure, I put one step determinedly before the other.
Still, I’m intensely aware of the fact that he refuses to touch me.
He hasn’t since we left Pearl’s.
We haven’t shared a word since our very brief and rather stiff exchange in Silvia’s hallway. And I’m too scared to look at him as we walk down the quiet and incredibly picturesque Brooklyn Heights street.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask when I can’t take the silence any longer. But the banality of my question is almost as painful as not talking at all. Cringing, I wish I knew how to behave in this moment. But I’ve honestly never been faced with such a challenging conversation.
It feels like the fate of my happiness—and Gabby’s—is on the line. And after seeing her with Gleb this morning, it makes my heart ache to consider her going through life without him.
She’s clearly attached to him.
And watching her give him a honi just about killed me. It means she must feel incredibly safe with him and connected in a deeper way than I knew.
Because she doesn’t do that with just anyone. In fact, as far as I know, she’s never done that with anyone but me before.
“No,” he says flatly, his voice low and so silky smooth despite the dark undercurrent.
My pulse quickens at the sound, and though my nerves are as tight as piano wire right about now, I can’t help but look at him. In the light of day, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. The pure exhaustion. His face—ever an impassive mask of serenity—looks paler than his typically fair complexion, and I suddenly worry that something’s gone terribly wrong. Something bigger than just my little world falling apart around me.
“Is… everything okay?” I ask, worried that while I was up half the night, tossing and turning, Gleb’s top-secret mission for Pyotr was blowing up in his face.
