Gretchen regards me coolly. “No.” The finger comes back out into my face. “You fucked with her head. Now leave her alone. Unless you want the stress to harm the baby.”
I know she’s posturing, but the suggestion hits me in the solar plexus just the same. The idea of anything harming our sweet baby kills me. I can’t imagine how stressful today must’ve been for her.
“Where is she now?”
“She’s back at her place. Where she will stay. Leave her. The Fuck. Alone.”
I draw a breath and nod. Not because Gretchen’s threats scare me. Because it’s the right thing to do. I was wrong to force Lucy into my penthouse… not that I wouldn’t do it all over again if given the choice.
But I won’t force her again.
She’s paid her penance for trying to keep the baby from me. Now I have to pay mine and suffer the heartache of giving her up.
Even though it fucking guts me.
Lucy
I OPEN AND close the largest matryoshka doll. Staring at the gift leaves me feeling like a bomb exploded in my chest. Somehow I made it through the last few days. Ravil hasn’t called or come over. I didn’t call him, either. I’m too confused. Gretchen explained what she’d told him, and that he agreed to leave me alone.
Part of me didn’t believe he would. But the next day, Oleg showed up with all my things, which he brought in and left without a word. Well, of course, without a word. But also without a message. Which made me wonder if that’s why Ravil sent him and him alone.
He barely looked at me when he brought the stuff in. I caught his arm as he was leaving. “Mne zhal’,” I said. I’m sorry. I’d been practicing that one.
He just shook his head and left. Left me with even more angst.
If it had been one of the twins, I might have asked how Ravil was. Apologized for their arrest.
Although-what do I really have to apologize for? They were accomplices to Ravil’s kidnapping. And he did abduct me.
I can’t forget that.
Maybe I do have Stockholm Syndrome. I find myself missing them-all of them. I miss the massages and the food. I miss the easy banter between the guys. The warmth they all showed me despite the fact that I was a prisoner.
And mostly I miss the hell out of Ravil.
Guilt eats at me. This gnawing sensation that I’ve done something wrong. That I screwed Ravil.
But that’s not right.
He’s the one who abducted me. He held me prisoner and threatened to send me to Russia.
But was it really so bad? a little voice keeps whispering.
Dammit, if I don’t want to be his prisoner, still.
I try to keep working from home. I keep up the farce that I’m still on bedrest, at least until I stop feeling like a zombie.
Sarah wrote me a very groveling email which she copied all the partners on, so of course, she wasn’t fired. I find myself unable to give two fucks or even one fuck about her, the partner position, or the firm.
I can barely make it through the day. Barely feed myself or shower. I’ve been sitting on this couch in the same yoga pants since the night everything blew up.
I don’t even realize it’s Saturday until my mom calls and startles me. I must’ve dozed off. The dolls clatter to the floor and roll around.
“Honey? Are you coming today?”
I sit up with a sharp inhale and the room spins. “Oh, mom. I’m sorry, I was asleep, I’ve been having a hard time sleeping at night because of the hormones and having to get up and pee three times a night.”
“What’s this I heard about you being on bedrest?”
Gretchen had been smart enough not to put my mom on full alert when she’d called about my bedrest, so my mom still doesn’t know about the kidnapping situation.
“Yeah, it’s just for a week or two. I’m fine, though. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it next week. I miss you guys.”
“Well, should I come over there?”
“No, Mom. You have your hands full with Dad. Gretchen flew out to help me this week, not that I needed any help. I promise I’m fine. Give Dad a kiss for me, okay?”
“Lucy?”
“Yes?”
“What’s going on with you and Ravil? Are you two seeing each other?”
The heaviness in my chest grows even weightier. “No, Mom. We’re just going to figure out how to co-parent.”
“He doesn’t look like your type.” That’s my mom’s very polite way of saying he looks like a criminal.
“He’s not, Mom, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make a great dad.”
That much I believe. With my whole heart.
But does Ravil even still want to be part of the baby’s life?
How ironic that when I didn’t want him to be a part of it, he demanded his place, and now that I’m comfortable with it, he’s ghosting me.
Of course, Gretchen told him to ghost me.
And I haven’t called to say anything different.
I just can’t figure out if I want to call. If I should call.
Are things easier this way? He is a criminal, after all. The FBI are just waiting to take him down. Is that the kind of role model I want for our son?
Hell, no!
My eyes swim with tears. “I’m going to go, Mom. I love you.” I try to make my voice sound normal.
“I love you, too, dear. Let me know how you’re doing.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I look at the clock on my phone.
Birthing class.
It’s ridiculous. I don’t need to go to that class. I can now go back to my plan for a hospital birth with the epidural where I don’t have to worry about anything, the doctors take care of it all.