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The guard gestured at the computer. “The problem is, Miss Covington isn’t allowed to come in. I know who you are and I know that you’re one of Mr. Chekhov’s employees, but so am I. The best I can do is run this by the head of security when he comes in this afternoon. But right now, I’m sorry. Your name’s been removed from the approvals list.”
Viktor’s hand on my shoulder kept me from collapsing to the marble floor. I heard him mutter something in Russian under his breath as he turned us around and led me back to the car.
He didn’t say anything else. Not until we pulled up to an ice cream drive-thru and he ordered me my favorite Triple Chocolate Volcano sundae.
I don’t know if the fact that my guards are still flanking me every day is a sign that Pasha’s just thinking through things. Or if all four of them have decided to keep an eye on me because of my baby.
Either way, I’m grateful for their constant presence.
And I’m probably going to need at least one of them with me for my road trip.
“Are you sure you want to drive?” Melanie asks me over speakerphone. “It’s, like, five hours from here. That’s so long with your baby. And bladder.”
“I’m too far along to fly.” I sigh and toss another stack of folded tunic tops into the suitcase I have open on the bed. “I’ll take a lot of stops, I promise.”
“Do you have a backup plan? In case, you know, my niece decides to debut while you’re here?”
I feel a small smile tug at my face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. Baby isn’t due for another two, three weeks tops, and I’m not planning on overstaying my welcome.”
Mel scoffs. “As if. You know you’re always welcome here. Unlimited.” Her voice softens. “I’m sorry things aren’t turning out the way you wanted, boo. You deserve so much better.”
“I’m hoping—praying—that this is just a hiccup, or a misunderstanding, or something.” I swallow hard before I choke up again. “It can’t be over just like that. He wouldn’t do that to me. Or our baby.”
I rest a comforting hand on my stomach, hoping my daughter can feel me here. She’s been nervous, kicking and rolling more since her father left.
Can she feel his absence?
Can she feel my pain?
“If he does, he’s an asshole. A dumb, stupid asshole.” Melanie sighs. “And he doesn’t deserve you. I mean, he never deserved you, but like… If that man lets a singular omission destroy everything between the two of you, take it as a win. He’s not worthy of your time or tears if he’s that delicate.”
I echo her sigh. I wish it was that easy. I wish I could shake this feeling that we’re not done—and even if we are, I can’t stop myself from loving him.
And even if I could, with our daughter coming into this world, I’ll never be truly separated from him.
I don’t know if I can handle seeing Pasha all the time and yet not be allowed to touch him. He promised he’d always be there for our daughter, through every first, every high and low. He won’t abandon her.
Then again, he also promised he’d be by my side no matter what.
“I’m leaving in a few minutes,” I tell my sister. “We’ll be there by tonight.”
“‘We’?”
“My driver and I. He’s going to get a hotel nearby, so you don’t have to worry about hosting him, too.”
“At this point, Daph, I don’t care what we have to do. We just want you to get here safe.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep you posted.”
I’ll be honest—I don’t really know what to pack. Clothes, obviously, and some toiletries. But do I need to bring more for a longer stay? Should I pack a few things for the baby?
Should I be planning for a longer arrangement? Maybe a more permanent one?
I toss in a few newborn onesies just for peace of mind. Then diapers, wipes, receiving blankets…
By the time I’m done, it looks like there’s more packed for my baby girl than for me.
I zip up the suitcase and heave it to the floor. Navigating my body when it’s the size of a blimp is a challenge, so I’m careful not to smash my toes or throw my back out.
