11. April

11

APRIL

A few months ago, I started throwing up in the mornings.

I didn't think anything of it then. Honestly, I figured it was just stress. With everything that was going on, how could I not be stressed?

I stopped eating breakfast. It didn't solve a thing.

Then I started gaining weight.

It wasn't anything outrageous, just a couple of pounds here and there, but it was weird. I was throwing up half my fluids every morning—how could I be gaining anything? Then again, maybe I was compensating. Maybe I was stress-eating too much during the rest of the day.

I tightened my belt. It didn't solve a thing.

When I started missing my period, I thought for sure it must be stress. Because what else could it be? All my life, doctors told me it was unlikely I'd get pregnant. Back then, I thought it a blessing. What child could possibly want me as their mother? What child could possibly want the life I had to offer?

Even still, I made an OBGYN appointment.

This time, something came of it.

It was the day after the heist, bright and early. I was still shaken up by what I'd done to you, feeling queasy from my morning sickness and from shame. The shame of hurting you —my first friend.

That's what you were to me, April: not just a friend, but the first . Lena and Julia are my knights, but you… you were the queen on the other side of the board. You had every reason to want to eat me whole.

Instead, you made a friend of me. You knew I was a killer and you didn't care. You knew I wanted you gone and you didn't fucking care.

How could I not think of you as a friend in return?

Yuri offered to take me to the appointment. I said no. I could take care of myself. It was probably nothing.

But then it wasn't nothing.

Yuri… I never meant for that to happen, either. For us to happen. With the alliance and the wedding plans and everything else our Bratvas had going on, the last thing I needed was a complication.

But love is never simple.

That's right: I fell in love. Feel free to laugh, but I did. I fell in love with my intended's brother. What a cliché, right? Wake up, Jane Austen, ‘cause I have a new novel for you.

I could have handled being in love, though. I could have buried it in the same shallow grave my enemies shared back in Russia. I could have killed it in the snow.

But then he did the worst thing he could've done.

He loved me back.

He loved me first , actually. I could tell right away. He was respectful, distant—but he liked me. That's what I thought it was at the time: like. Not love. Another first I didn't see coming.

But it was never meant to go this far. To bring ruin to all our hopes and dreams.

They say a child is a blessing, regardless of the circumstances. Whoever "they" are, they never met Vlad.

I knew my father would kill me for this. That he'd bury me in the shallow grave of his enemies.

That he'd bury Yuri.

That he'd bury our child.

So I did the only thing I could think of: I turned to Matvey. I asked him to protect us. To protect us from everyone.

I'm sorry, April. If it's the last thing I get to say to you, I want it to be this: I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.

I never meant to harm you. I never meant to harm your baby. I don't know what I was thinking the day of the heist—maybe I wasn't thinking at all. And afterwards? I just didn't want us to die.

I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't expect to ever be your friend again. If you want to get one good swing in, I'll even hold the baby for you.

But can you at least understand why I did it?

I made the mistake of not listening once. When Matvey tried to tell me. Even if it was too little, too late, it might have saved something of us. Of the family we could have been.

So this time, I listen. This time, I let Petra get every single word out.

Then I give her my baby to hold.

"Oh, are you really going to—okay, wait, let me take out my contacts—April? April, what the hell are you doing?"

I wrap my arms around her. It's like trying to hug a jellyfish: all she does is squirm. "Shut up," I tell her. "Just shut up and take it."

For a few seconds, Petra stays frozen in shock. "That's not how you punch someone," she points out.

"I can't punch you, Petra."

An indignant huff. "What, because I'm pregnant?"

"Because I'd break my hand on that thick skull of yours. Now, shut up and let me hug you."

"… Why?" she whispers in the end.

And isn't that the question of the year: Why?

I could say it's because forgiveness is a virtue. Because Dominic sent me to Sunday school every week and some of it stuck. Or because I'm just that good of a person.

But the truth is, it's because I'm tired.

I can't hold another grudge. I just can't . It's exhausting, being angry with the people you love. It takes everything out of you. Matvey's already doing a stellar job of hollowing me out; I don't need to get any emptier.

And maybe I just want my friend back.

"That's for me to know and for you to wonder about forever," I answer with a sniffle.

"So it's torture you're choosing? Hell, we might make you Bratva yet," Petra sniffles back.

Jeez, look at us: tears, snot, and hormones. Such sexy ladies.

"Truth is, I really need a mannequin."

"I can do that. Just be warned, I've gained half a size."

"Oh, half a size. Boo-hoo, poor you."

We're separated by May protesting the lack of air.

"Sorry," I laugh, tickling my baby's cheek. "Don't like being squished, do you?"

Only then does Petra finally seem to realize what she's holding. "God, she's…"

"Beautiful? Perfect? Just like her mother?"

"A stink-bomb," she grimaces.

I take a whiff and realize she's right. Oh, well. "You get used to it."

Petra's eyes widen in terror. It's the most satisfying thing I've seen all day. "You most certainly do not."

"Guess we'll know soon enough, Mommy-To-Be."

We're interrupted by a panicked guard shouting: "Hey, all of you! You can't be?—"

"April!"

Three voices converge at the entrance. Three voices I would recognize anywhere.

My family.

June is on me in seconds, followed by Corey and Rob. I barely glimpse Petra making a quick getaway—God, she really hates crowds, doesn't she?

And displays of affection. I swear, she's more terrified by hugs than firearms.

"What are you three doing here?" I balk.

"We were worried!" June yells.

"You disappeared for a month!" Corey scolds.

"I heard you left with stitches!"

"I heard you got shot at!"

"Where did you hear all that?!" I yelp.

From the doorway, another familiar figure emerges. "Apologies, Ms. Flowers." Grisha bows. "I took the liberty of updating your friends and bringing them here. I hope you won't mind."

"She sure as hell better not," Corey harrumphs.

"She has a lot of explaining to do," June adds sternly. "Falling off the face of the Earth like— Oh my God, is that your baby?!"

"Let me see! Let me see!"

" Meow ."

I mouth a silent Thank you to Grisha over June's shoulder. Then: "Wait—who meowed?"

Rob raises his hands in protest. "Wasn't me."

Then I notice the carrier on the ground. "Is that… Mr. Buttons?!"

June grins. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up. Still no pets allowed here?"

"And no friends?" Corey asks with puppy eyes.

I think back to Matvey's draconian rules. No visits, no guests, no nothing.

Then I decide I don't give a damn.

"The rules have changed," I tell them. "Come on in. I want you all to meet someone." I hold out the bundle in my arms. "This… is May."

As the trio's eyes grow wet—June's especially—and my cat finally returns to me, sniffing suspiciously at the stink-bomb in my arms, all I can think of is one thing.

I still have a family after all.