Page 170 of Bride By Coronation

Kirill adds, "He was right. Running away might make some things easier, but it doesn't change them."

I blurt out, "Then our kids will be able to stand proud with the Petrov name."

"Our kids?" he says, pinning his eyebrows together.

My heart races faster. "Yes."

He grinds his molars and looks at his vodka glass, tapping it with his index finger.

Goose bumps race along my skin. I try to keep it light, but it comes out flat when I ask, "You don't want to have some babies?"

Time seems to stand still. He finally faces me, stating, "How would that work, Fiona?"

Confused, I question, "What do you mean?"

He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it. In a cool tone, he asks, "How would that be fair to them?"

I jerk my head back. "I'm not following."

He closes his eyes for a moment, then sighs. When he opens them again, he looks into my eyes and sadly says, "They'd always be afraid of me."

"What are you talking about?"

More silence ensues.

Then it hits me. Anger floods every cell I have. I accuse, "Stop using your scar as an excuse to not live."

"I'm not using it as an excuse."

"Yes, you are," I insist, my voice growing louder.

"Fiona—"

"No! That's the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard, Kirill!" I glare at him.

He grinds his molars, and I shake my head at him.

"Don't look at me like that," he orders.

I scoff. "Then stop being an idiot!"

He leans closer. "Calm down. You're getting loud."

I lower my voice. "Don't tell me to calm down. I want kids. I would be a good mom."

"I know you would."

"And you would be a good father."

He clenches his jaw, shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't. They'd fear me."

"No. They'd love you," I insist.

"They wouldn't," he says, then finishes his vodka and stares at the curtain.

"So I can't ever love you either, right? Because you have a scar?" I seethe.

His breath hitches. He slowly turns and pins a sad and fearful but knowing gaze on me.

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