Page 28 of Nine Months to Love
“You’re right. He did.” Rather than look suspicious, Elena looks amused by my presumption. “He never liked feeling weak. And Natalia certainly rubbed it in every chance she got.”
“She was around then? When he went through his brain surgery?”
“Oh, certainly. On the outside, she was the perfect wife. Always at his bedside, constantly fussing over his food and his meds,asking all the right questions. Even I couldn’t fault her. I actually had hope that maybe his tumor had forced her to step up, actually be his partner.”
I tense and pull one of the throw cushions to my chest. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“She saw it only as a way to emasculate him. And for some reason, Matvey put up with it. Maybe because he felt like he had no other choice. Or, who knows? Perhaps because he was grateful she was there at all. I can’t tell you.”
“Is there a possibility that maybe she was doing her best to take care of him?”
Elena’s sharp blue eyes find mine. “I told you his surgery took sixteen hours. Do you know where she was for ten of them? With Vasily. Holed up in a hotel room two blocks away from the hospital.”
I hug the cushion tighter. “I’m sorry, Elena. It can’t have been easy for you, watching your child suffer like that.”
“It wasn’t easy.” She looks down at her wrinkled hands. “You raise your children with so much care and so much hope. Only to watch them struggle and fall and make mistakes and become people you barely recognize. At least Matvey evolved. He grew. He learned from his mistakes.”
Part of me wants to ask exactly what mistakes he made, but it feels cruel to force Elena to tell me.
All I can do is sit there with her and share the sad silence. And hope that one day, it might heal her.
11
OLIVIA
The one time I open the door without checking the peephole, I come face to face with the person I’m most desperate to avoid.
“Oh.” My face falls. “It’s you.”
The frown lines on Stefan’s forehead deepen, carving shadows into his skin. Outside, the morning sun backlights him in gold, making him look like some avenging angel sent specifically to torment me.
“Thanks for that,” he drawls. “Really makes a man feel special.”
“If you feel any particular way about the situation between us, it’s on you, not me.”
I’m about to slam the door in his face—want to feel the satisfying percussion of wood meeting frame, or, preferably, wood meeting his smug nose—but he stops me by shoving his foot in the doorway.
“Move your foot,” I snap.
“No can do. We have an appointment to get to.”
I shove the door harder against his foot, putting my weight into it. It’s gotta hurt, but he doesn’t flinch. Those slate-grey eyes just hold mine with infuriating steadiness.
“What appointment?” I ask.
“A check-up for the baby. You haven’t had a single doctor’s appointment yet and it’s past time you did.”
With a casual push of his palm—barely any effort at all, damn him—he forces the door open and I retreat into the room. The morning light floods in behind him, and suddenly, my sanctuary feels invaded.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Do you have to be so damn stubborn?”
“Please.” I hiss the word through clenched teeth. “If I’m stubborn, then you’re the… king of... stubborn.”
He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement he’s not even trying to hide. “Very clever.”
“Shut up. I’ve been throwing up all morning.” My stomach still feels like it’s been wrung out like a dishcloth, twisted and sour.
