19. Viviana

I wake up to reminders of Mikhail everywhere.

There's a soft ache between my legs where he stretched me. My nipples are sensitive from his lips and his teeth. The possessive way he clung to me left bruises that are still blooming on my hips and my thighs.

I feel him everywhere except in the bed next to me, which is where I want him most.

After the phone call, he left in a hurry last night. He didn't have time to explain what was going on, but I could tell by the worry in his eyes that it was serious.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," he said before he left me in front of the door to his bedroom.

He still wants me to sleep in his bedroom, I thought. That has to be a good sign.

Before the poorly thought out pregnancy announcement I made, the entire night was one good sign after another. I mean, Mikhail named a star after me. I've spent my life looking up at the stars and trying to make sense of the universe. Now, tucked amongst the celestial landscape are three little dots. My family, together, forever.

My insides melt just thinking about him choosing those stars for us.

They melt even more when I remember how it felt to have his voice in my ear. The dirty things he whispered against my skin have absolutely ruined me for anyone else.

I want to see you pregnant with my child. I want everyone to know that you're mine.

After everything he said last night, I'm not worried that Mikhail is going to change his mind about me. I'm not tiptoeing around the mansion the way I was yesterday, worried that the slightest wrong move would get me tossed out on my ass.

But I hate that things are unresolved between us. I want to smooth this misunderstanding out and then, if I'm lucky, Mikhail will smooth me out, too.

I stretch my arms over my head and climb out of bed.

I could go down the hall and get my own clothes, but Mikhail's closet is too tempting. I pull on a pair of his athletic shorts. I have to tighten the string and roll the waistband an absurd amount of times. Plus, it looks ridiculous with his flannel shirt. But I don't care. I'm wrapped in the woodsy citrus scent of him as I pad downstairs.

I barely manage a single step into the kitchen before a small body slams against my legs.

"Mama!" Dante squeezes my knees together and jumps up and down. "You're here."

I scoop him up, feeling much steadier than I did the last time I held him. It's miraculous what a lot of rest and a love confession can do for your stability. "I'm going to be here every day, buddy. I'm not going anywhere."

I plop him back in front of his bowl of cereal.

"That's what Anatoly said. I wanted to come see you this morning, but he said you needed to sleep." Dante rolls his eyes. "He said you had a long, hard night, but you've been sleeping for, like, a million years."

I make a mental note to punch Anatoly in the arm later. Hard.

"Where is Uncle Nat, anyway?" I ask through gritted teeth.

There's a small bowl of cereal and half a banana on the island for Dante, but I don't see signs of anyone else's food. Before… everything, I'd come downstairs and find Stella in the kitchen with Dante. She always had French toast and freshly-squeezed juice for him.

The image of her crumpled on the cold garage floor, a gaping wound in her chest, flashes behind my eyes. My heart clenches hard, but I fight back the tears. Today is a happy day. My first day back in the mansion with Dante. I don't want to do anything to ruin it.

Dante climbs back into his barstool and shrugs. "He said he had somewhere to be. He told me to eat my breakfast and wait for school to start."

Weird.

The reason I've been able to let my guard down since Dante and I moved into the mansion is because everyone here is as protective of him as I am. I was hesitant to admit it right away, but it's so obvious that Raoul and Anatoly are just as concerned about Dante's safety as Mikhail and me.

If they left him here alone, there must have been a good reason. Maybe the same reason Mikhail rushed off last night and hasn't come back yet.

"Just the two of us, then," I say with forced cheer. My morning sickness has eased a lot the last couple days, but I still gravitate towards plain buttered toast just to be on the safe side. I push two slices down into the toaster and lean against the counter. "Are you still being tutored by Mrs. Steinman?"

He nods his head and talks around a big bite of banana. "Do you know how to subitize?"

"Scuba dive?" I ask, confused.

He swallows his bite. "No. Subitize. Here, look." He plucks a few pieces of cereal out of his bowl and lays them on the counter. "How many are there?"

I point to each one slowly, counting. "One, two, three, four?—"

"Wrong! You're not supposed to count them."

"But you asked me how many there were."

"Mrs. Steinman says that subitizing is when you know how many pieces of cereal there are without having to count them. But it doesn't have to be cereal. It can be anything."

I'm ninety-eight percent positive Dante is making all of this up or Mrs. Steinman is teaching him nonsense, but then I pull out my phone and Google it.

"Wow. It's a real thing," I exclaim.

Dante beams proudly. "I told you. I'm learning so much."

He really is. Mikhail and I haven't had time to talk about Dante going to boarding school again. We haven't had time to talk about much of anything except the pregnancy. Considering the nosedive that conversation took, I'm not exactly eager to talk about anything else. But we have to.

When Mikhail first wanted to send Dante away, it was out of a sense of desperation. He wanted to keep him safe. But a lot has changed since then.

Hopefully, he's had a change of heart. I mean, no one could look at his mop of golden brown hair and bright blue eyes and wish that he was halfway around the world in boarding school, right? I'm sure Mikhail will agree.

Once we talk through the pregnancy, I'll bring up boarding school.

"Dante?" Mrs. Steinman pops her head into the kitchen. If his tutor is surprised to see me standing there, she doesn't show it. She just smiles and then turns her attention to Dante. "Are you ready to start the day?"

Yesterday, Dante wanted to skip his lesson to spend time with me, but today, he hops out of his chair and bounds over to Mrs. Steinman. He takes her hand and they walk to the schoolroom together.

Just me for breakfast, then.

I butter my toast, make a cup of coffee, and retreat upstairs. If I have to eat alone, I might as well do it from the comfort of a king-sized bed.

Mikhail's bedroom door is cracked open. I twist around and push it open with my back, balancing my plate in one hand and trying not to splash myself with steaming coffee. I scoot backward into the room and kick the door closed, triumphant.

Then I turn around and drop everything in my hands on the floor.

The coffee soaks into the carpet and the bottom of my socks, burning the soles of my feet. But I barely feel it. Because all of my attention is locked on the end of the bed…

Where my father sits, staring back at me.

Agostino clicks his tongue and sighs bitterly. "Look at the mess you've made, Viviana."