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“Hey, Dom.” I scan the empty living room over his shoulder, straining to hear if there are any voices coming from upstairs. “I wanted to check in, see how the wife and kid are doing.”
He looks down at the gift with a raised brow and then turns the incredulous look on me. “Yours or mine?”
I should grab my gift and leave in return for that little crack alone, but I don’t want to give Dominik the satisfaction. Plus, no one else is going to get any use out of this personalized sterling silver baby rattle.
“Why would I come toyourhouse to seemywife and daughter?”
“Good question,” he fires back. “It does seem weird. Then again, Laila’s been over here a lot lately. And I’ve noticed you getting restless.”
“That has nothing to do with Laila.”
“So you admit it—you’ve been restless?”
“Shut up, Dom.” I poke my head down the hall, but it’s all silent that way, too. For a house with a newborn in it, the place is almost eerily quiet.
“She’s not here.”
Blyat’.
“Who?” I feign ignorance, turning back to him. “Kira?”
Dominik sighs. “Laila. She and Nina left a little while ago. Now, are you going to see this ruse through and stay for a drink or are you finished?”
“Whiskey,” I snap, stalking into the living room. “Pobeda whiskey.”
Dominik heads over to the bar cart in the corner and pours me a glass, but he doesn’t indulge himself. Instead, he makes himself a cup of tea with a ready kettle.
“Since when do you drink tea?”
“Kira cut out caffeine while she was pregnant, and I joined her.” He raises a fist. “Solidarity, brother.”
Son of a bitch.It’s like he’stryingto show me up at every turn.
I accept my glass of whiskey and knock it back in one go. Dominik eyes me cautiously, but he doesn’t comment. He takes a dainty sip of tea, his nose wrinkling like he’s ingesting lighter fluid.
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it. You can still have theWorld’s Best Husbandtrophy.”
“You joke, but I’d totally accept that trophy. I’d put it on the mantel, right under our family picture.”
My pulse thrums as I resist the urge to stomp over to the bar and pour myself another glass. “Well, if I can’t have that trophy, at least one of us can.”
“I take it things aren’t going the way you want them to at home?”
I snap my attention to him. “Has Laila said something?”
“Not a word. It’s my job to notice things.”
I don’t actually want to hear how visibly miserable my wife is to everyone in her life, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “Like what?”
“Probably the same things you’ve noticed. She’s here a lot. She’s quieter than usual.” He shrugs. “It seems like she’s trying to avoid going home.”
If Laila isn’t here with Kira and the baby, she’s at the academy working on her yoga certification. If she isn’t there, she’s holed up in her room with Nina.
Regardless of where she is, the message is clear:I’m not welcome.
I was prepared to take a big, humbling step backward and start talking to her through the closed door again, but every time I’ve stopped by her room, the sliver I can see under the crack in her door has been dark.
“This is all your fault,” I say.
