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My fingers tremble as I pull on my jeans and tank top.
I knew he’d be furious when he eventually found out about me sneaking out. But I had hoped that seeing the baby, our baby, would soften the blow, and he’d understand why I did it.
What I was not expecting is this coldness. At worst I thought we would fight and scream and yell until it was out of our system.
But Alexei can barely stand to even look at me, and now I have to go home with him. And know we both know that I’m carrying his child.
There’s no way I could sneak past him and make a run for it, and deep down, I don’t want to. I want to talk about this. I want us to get to a place where we can have a proper discussion about what we’re going to do, but it’s hard to do that when Alexei is giving me the silent treatment.
Wiping under my eyes and smoothing down my hair, I take a deep steadying breath and open the door to Dr. Waite’s office.
Alexei is leaning against the wall opposite, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes fixed on the floor.
His white shirt is covered in blood, and I spy dark purple bruising along the backs of his knuckles.
“What happened to you?”
He pushes away from the wall. “Let’s go.”
I hesitate, wanting to push him further, but then he reaches out a hand for me to take. The gesture is enough to shatter the last of the walls around my heart.
“I-I’m sorry.”
He takes my hand, pulling me along next to him as we walk down the corridor toward the reception desk.
His fingers are cold and there’s nothing tender in the touch.
I try to pull free, but he only tightens his grip.
“Alexei, you’re hurting me.”
“We’re done here.”
I don’t miss the way the blonde girl shrinks back as Alexei glances in her direction.
This is not the man I know.
This is not the man who built me an art studio and sat with me for hours while I painted.
This is not the man who made love to me in his bed for hours until we both fell asleep, tangled in each other's arms.
This man is nothing but a stranger.
“Alexei…”
He drags me outside to where the hummer is half abandoned on the sidewalk.
“I-I drove Zara’s car?—”
“I’ll deal with that later.” He throws open the passenger door, bundling me inside.
I can barely see through the tears as I climb into the seat.
Alexei reaches over and buckles me in, and I catch a waft of his scent.
It’s his usual musky smell, but there’s a coppery twang to it from the blood that almost makes me gag.
Is this who he’s been all along? Have I just been too blind to notice?
