13

Lucy
I spend the morning working on my cases and communicating with the office-trying to make sure everyone understands I’m still available and working just as hard even though I’m not on site.
With the partner position being voted on soon, I can’t afford any slip-ups.
Despite the insanity of my present situation, feeling the baby kick buoys my spirits. I don’t get into the whole spiritual “it was meant to be” thing the way Gretchen, my best friend from law school does, but it did seem like a message from the universe that everything is okay.
Or not to sweat the small stuff, and it’s all small stuff. Because in the big picture-I’m having a baby, and that baby is healthy. And really, that’s all I can worry about at the moment. As for how I will get myself out of this prison or what will happen after the baby’s born… I can only take it one day at a time.
Learning Russian already makes me feel better about Ravil’s threat to send me to Russia. I have a penthouse full of people to practice the language with. Every word I learn frees me from his tyranny.
And I’m settling into the certainty that he won’t hurt me. He has looked after my physical needs with massive attentiveness. I have zero complaints other than wanting my freedom.
So maybe this happened for a reason. Some reason I can’t see yet. That’s what Gretchen would say.
As if Gretchen senses my thoughts, she chooses now to call. I stare at the screen. I’m dying to talk to her. She’s the one person who knows about Ravil. She knows how I met him and what he is. But that means talking to her and keeping my present situation a secret would be too difficult. I’d want to tell her everything.
I let it go to voicemail with a sigh.
I choose to dig into Adrian’s case since I’m here, wrapped in Ravil’s world. I open his file again. He lives in the Kremlin, too. What a surprise. I review our interaction, which had been brief. At the time, all I could think about was the fact that the father of my baby was in my office and knew my secret.
Now, I examine the few words we exchanged.
He spoke in Russian and Ravil corrected him. It sounded like something they’d discussed before-a reminder. I tap my lips with my index finger. That doesn’t fit with the man who told me no one here speaks English.
To me, it sounds like the opposite. Like he’s insisted they learn and use it. So my guess is that Ravil’s trying to put one over on me. Keep me helpless.
A little rush of smugness filters in at figuring it out. My instinct to learn Russian was dead on, but it may not even be necessary. I just need to trick one of them into answering me.
So Ravil is playing games with me. What else has he bluffed about? Sending me to Russia? That’s the only real threat he’s made. He hasn’t sworn to take our baby from me, only that our baby stays here. Does that mean I stay here, too? He’s left everything very nebulous.
I pick up my phone and call Sarah, the summer associate, to tell her to request a copy of all the evidence against Adrian, including search warrants and arrest records. I want to ask her to research Ravil’s arrest record, too, but I don’t dare. He said he’d be monitoring my communications. I’d be stupid if I assumed that was a bluff, too.
An email pops into my inbox from Jeffrey with the subject line, “Thinking about you.”
My stomach drops out a bit.
For God’s sake. I don’t need Jeffrey’s midlife crisis and post-breakup realizations on top of all this.
I open the email.
Hey Luce,
You’re looking great-pregnancy really suits you. Can we get together for lunch today? I miss you and I’d love to touch base.
No signature.
Something old and distressing coils in my solar plexus. The old familiar anxiety of wondering if things with Jeffrey are going to work out. If we could make it as a couple. If he’d be the dad I wanted him to be for the family I wanted us to create.
I would’ve welcomed this email four months ago. Before I hooked up with Ravil. Maybe even after I knew I was pregnant, when I realized how daunting it was going to be to do this thing on my own.
But now?
Now it’s damn inconvenient.
And still hurts, somehow.
Maybe hurt is the wrong word, but I don’t like the way it makes me feel. It opens old wounds. Me wondering why I’m not good enough for Jeffrey to want to put a ring on my finger. Wondering when he’d be ready. Bending and contorting myself to fit into his very long timeline for when things should happen. Wanting to make it all work perfectly for him, so there could be an us. And then finally realizing his timeline was never going to speed up to the pace I needed it to if I wanted to have a baby before my body got too old.
Eight years we were together. I grieved my decision when I made it, not because it was the wrong one but because I loved Jeffrey. I’d had all kinds of visions of a future with him as the stable, loving husband and father. But those were projections not a reality.
I hit reply.
Hey Jeffrey. I’m actually on bedrest, so I can’t meet today or any time in the near future, but I appreciate your thoughts.
-Luce
His reply is immediate.
Oh my God, is everything okay? Do you want me to come by? What do you need?
Well, crap. Not this. I definitely don’t need this. I blink back tears, thinking that if I really were on bedrest-if Ravil had never shown up, and if Jeffrey had circled back-I’d probably be so relieved to have him back in my life. But only because he’s familiar. Like family.
Not because I believe he’d actually show up the way I needed him to. I doubt he’d stick around and father the baby. He’d just make me hope and grasp at the idea that he would.
But what if it was his? Would he then?
Probably not.
Ugh. I give my head a quick shake. These thoughts aren’t useful in the least. It’s not Jeffrey’s baby, and he missed his chance. I’d thought he’d be a stable and secure kind of dad. The guy who looks good on paper. In reality, would he?
Or would I be the one still trying to orchestrate everything in our lives to make it work for him?
I think of the way Ravil crowded me back against the beach wall, his hand on my belly, his lips at my neck. Our son.
He sounded so awed. We shared the moment equally. If Jeffrey was the father, would he have felt the same reverence? I seriously doubt it. He isn’t uncaring, but he can’t seem to make himself feel much, either. Like he wants to care, knows he’s supposed to care but is ambivalent about everything in his life, especially me.
Ravil wants this baby.
Very much.
He’s not the man I want for my son, he’s not the father I pictured, but at least he cares.
That’s something.
I hit reply and type, No, thank you. I’m fine, just need to follow doctor’s orders for now. Thanks.
A few minutes later, Ravil opens the door without knocking. “Who’s Jeffrey?” he demands.
I frown at him, trying to hide the shiver that runs through my body. His monitoring was definitely not a bluff.
I look at him coolly. “My ex.”
“The man you came to Black Light to forget.”
He remembers. He guessed that night I was on a rebound. It was one of those moments of extraordinary perception that struck me.
I nod.
Ravil regards me, a shadow on his normally impassive face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the doorframe, his posture deceptively casual. “Get rid of him.”
I raise my brows. “You obviously read the emails. I did my best. I’m following your guidelines, Warden.”
Ravil shakes his head. “Get rid of him completely. Out of your life.”
“Or what?” I snap, annoyed.
“Or I will.” He’s the sort of man who lowers his voice when making a threat rather than raising it, and it sends icicles through my veins.
Genuine fear for Jeffrey makes me grip the edge of the desk. I don’t know much about Ravil, but I imagine he might be capable of terrible things. Including murder.
I stare back at him. “Fine.”
The idea of saying something that would completely cut Jeffrey out of my life turns my stomach sour. We left things amicable-we were kind to each other during the break up. He helped me move into my new apartment when I said I was moving out. There was no fight or hateful things said.
But it’s over. And I don’t want to endanger him.
“I’ll take care of it.” I narrow my gaze at him. “Get out.”
Ravil’s lips purse, and he leaves without comment.
I’m not surprised when he reneges on his plan to let me out for lunch and sends Valentina in with a tray of food instead.