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All of this has been for work. Just business. Logistics. I want to point that out, but I bite my tongue. I’m too tired for a fight tonight. I don’t even know what we’d be fighting about.
Arsen sees me as a responsibility—another item on his long list of chores.
Fine. I’m not going to beg him for more.
“Goodnight, Arsen.”
I push the door closed, but his foot wedges into the crack. “I need to say something to you.”
“And you have to say it right now?”
Of course he does. Because my guard is down and I’m dead on my feet. He has a sense for his opponent’s weaknesses. When Arsen and I finally opened this can of dysfunctional worms, I wanted to have more than three hours of sleep under my belt. But things rarely go the way I hope they will.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“I want you to know that you can come to me for anything. You can count on me for anything. I’m here. I’m always going to be right here.”
“Always, starting now?” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Because you sure as hell haven’t been here the last week. Was that an exception? Should I expect a lot of those moving forward? Always meansalways. There’s no in-between.”
He sighs, his cheeks hollowing as he swallows. “I know I’ve been an asshole. You deserve better. So does Nina. But that’s going to change now.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”
I try to shut the door, his little piggies be damned, but apparently, his foot is just as dense as his head.
“Let me explain, Laila.”
“Oh, now, you want to explain?” I shove the door again, not minding if I snap a few of his toes in the process. “Well, I’ve been up with an infant all night, and I’m tired. It’s not like I have a husband to lean on or anything.”
“Tonight, you do.”
“Excuse me?”
Taking advantage of my surprise, he pushes his way into the room, taking me with him, and closes the door behind him. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of Nina.”
I snort through my nose. “Right. Like I’m letting you take care of my baby.”
“She’s mine, too, Laila.”
“Since when, Arsen?”
Anger burns in his eyes, but he blows out a breath and it disappears. To his very limited credit, he seems to know he has no right to be angry.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes fluttering over my face. “I got scared,” he explains softly, causing my heart to take off like a hummingbird on a mission. “I watched my mother die,roza. Weeks later, I watched my father die, too. It was the darkest time of my life.”
As hard as I try to remain detached, I find myself straining toward his words. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it. Don’t deserve it, really.” He tugs a hand through his hair, and I get the sense I’m witnessing an Arsen Adamov first: an actual, genuine apology.“I’m the one who’s sorry.I failed you when you needed me the most. But know that it had nothing to do with you. It was about me.”
I stare at him, wishing so badly that I could just sweep everything under the rug and give in. But when it comes to fear and heartbreak, there’s more than enough for the two of us. I won’t hand my heart over so easily.
“I appreciate the explanation,” I concede. “But you’re still not spending the night here.”
“You’re dead on your feet. You need help.”
“I’ll get Polina. Or my mom. Or, hey, you mentioned a nanny. Call one up and?—”
He grabs me and pirouettes me into his arms. Before I can fight, he buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in.
