37. Viviana

"Why can't Daddy be here, too?" Dante whines. It's been his constant refrain since we left the house an hour ago.

I thought he was having a good time at the park, so the reminder that we're here without Mikhail takes me by surprise. I have to turn away quickly so I don't turn into a sobbing mess in front of all the other parents at the park.

"Your dad is busy today," Anatoly chimes in easily. "Hey, go climb the rock wall over there and I'll take a picture of you and send it to him."

"Okay!" Dante chirps back.

As soon as Dante is out of earshot, Anatoly drops down onto the bench next to me. "He's busy being a grouchy asshole."

When I told Mikhail that Dante was asking to go to the park, he turned away from me like I didn't even speak. Like I wasn't there. Five minutes later, Anatoly strolled in with his keys and offered. Apparently, I'm the only one Mikhail is icing out.

I sniffle and swipe at my cheeks. "At least he's talking to you."

"You say that like it's a good thing. I think the silent treatment would be better."

"Don't be so sure," I mumble under my breath. "Where did he even sleep last night? Because it wasn't in bed with me."

I know because I was awake tossing and turning all night.

The days we spent at the cabin were a bright spot in a long stretch of darkness. Now, Mikhail thinks all of it was some manipulation. I look back on our time there and see how great we can be together. What does he see? How badly is he twisting those memories in his own head and will I be able to twist them back?

Anatoly turns to me. "What even happened with you two? You guys were the picture of wedded fucking bliss a few days ago. I've never seen Mikhail like that before. He was… happy."

A few days ago. It feels like a lifetime.

"I probably shouldn't say…"

If Mikhail wanted Anatoly to know what is going on, then he would have told him. But there's no one else for me to talk to. I've been sitting with this secret—with this shame—for days and I can't carry it anymore.

"Come on, Viv." Anatoly rubs a hand on my back. "What's going on?"

It's all the encouragement I need. The truth rushes out of me. "I'm not pregnant," I blurt.

Anatoly frowns. "Are you supposed to be?"

"He didn't tell you that, either?" I can tell from the blank look on Anatoly's face that Mikhail didn't. Anatoly has no clue. "Well, great… Now, he can be mad at me about that, too."

"Wait." Anatoly shakes his head. "Are you—You were—What?"

"I thought I was pregnant," I explain in a stop-and-start stutter. "I took a test before Trofim kidnapped me. It was positive, but I guess i-it was a false positive or something. I don't know."

"And now, Mikhail is mad at you?" Anatoly's brows pinch together. "He's mad at you for a false pregnancy test?"

I sigh, sinking down on the bench. "It's complicated."

Anatoly opens his mouth to say something, but Dante's voice rings out across the park. "Look at me, Uncle Nat!" He's standing on the ledge on top of the small rock wall, his fists raised over his head in triumph. "Take a picture."

Anatoly stands up and snaps a few shots, giving Dante an air high five. When he's done, he sits down next to me, sliding a little closer and lowering his voice. "You're going to have to make sense of this for me, Viv. Because even my hard-headed brother isn't unreasonable enough to be pissed at you and, by extension, me, over something like this. This isn't your fault. It was a shitty test."

"It's not just the test; it's the timing of all of it. The fact that I didn't tell him right away." I drop my face in my hands. "I knew for a couple days. I suspected for even longer. But things were going so well that I didn't want to ruin it."

He lays a hand on my shoulder. "You didn't ruin anything."

I choke on a laugh and gesture around wildly. "Look around, Nat. It's ruined. Mikhail won't even speak to me."

"For now. He isn't speaking to you for now. But give him time. He always comes around."

I want to believe him, but I know better than to hope for the best. "Every time things start going well for me, they have a habit of falling apart. Maybe Mikhail and I have run our course." The words lodge in my throat. I can barely force them out without sobbing. "We could make it work out in the middle of nowhere, but when we're back in the real world, there's too much baggage."

"Baggage." Anatoly groans. "That's what it is, you know? Between our useless father and Trofim and then Pyotr… Mikhail has a hard time knowing who to trust."

Anatoly isn't saying I'm like any of those men, but that's what it feels like. That's what I'm afraid of: Mikhail sitting in his office, imagining me as some conniving liar who used him.

I'd give anything to rewind time a few days. I'd tell him the first time I noticed I didn't have pregnancy symptoms. I'd bring up the fact that I only took one test and never had it confirmed. All of the little doubts that were swirling around in my head, I'd say them out loud. I'd confess everything to Mikhail.

But there's no going back now.

"I didn't even mean to keep it a secret from him. I was waiting for the right time. But it turns out, there isn't a right time to dump terrible news in someone's lap."

"Unless that someone is your husband," Anatoly says softly. "Mikhail wants to take care of you, Viviana. He doesn't need you to hide things from him. Whatever is going on with you, he can handle it."

The question was never whether Mikhail could handle the news.

It was whether I could handle it.

We stay at the park for another hour, letting Dante burn through the endless energy he seems to have. He climbs the rock wall so many times that he can literally do it with his eyes closed by the time we leave. On our way back to the car, he hangs limply over Anatoly's shoulder, pretending to snore.

That doesn't stop him from announcing, thirty seconds later, "I want to go swimming!"

Anatoly smiles through a groan. "Aren't you tired?"

"I want to go swimming," Dante repeats like that's answer enough.

Anatoly and I take turns tossing sedentary options at him—puzzles, movies, video games—but Dante is a boy who knows what he wants.

"Fine. I'll swim with you," Anatoly relents as we walk into the house through the garage. "But I'm lying on a float the entire time and you're definitely not going to tip me over into the water."

Dante giggles, his eyes sparking with the kind of mischief that used to make me wonder if urgent care centers offered frequent flyer miles. "Okay."

I ruffle his hair. "Go get changed into your swimsuit and then we can?—"

"Daddy!" Dante is a floppy-haired streak down the hall before he launches himself into Mikhail's arms.

I didn't even see Mikhail standing there. Probably because I wasn't looking. I can only get my hopes up so many times before I accept that Mikhail isn't going to show his face until he's good and ready.

But here he is.

He obviously heard us come in, and he didn't dissolve into the shadows like Batman. I try to take it as a good sign, but it's not like he greeted us at the door, either.

"Hey, kid." He bends down to hug him without looking at me or Anatoly.

Anatoly pads into the kitchen with an ease I couldn't fake if I wanted to. "Dante is dragging me to the swimming pool. You wanna come?"

"Please!" Dante pleads, yanking on Mikhail's pant leg. "Please swim with me!"

Mikhail sighs. "I have a lot to do, but I could?—"

Dante shrieks with excitement before Mikhail even finishes the sentence and whips those baby blues around to me. "You, too, Mama?"

"Oh." I glance at Mikhail and his jaw is set. His eyes are drilling into the top of Dante's head like he might be able to plant his own thoughts there. You don't want your Mama to come with us.

It doesn't work. Dante slips right back into shameless begging. "Please, Mama! Pleeeease!"

Dante will be so happy we're all together that he probably won't even notice his dad and I aren't talking. I can fight through the tension on Dante's behalf if Mikhail can. We're both adults, after all.

I manage a smile. "Sure, bud. I'd love to."

No sooner than the words are out of my mouth, Mikhail takes a step back and glances at his watch. "Actually, it's later than I thought it was. I have something to take care of. Sorry, Dante."

Dante's face falls, but the words rush out of me first. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," I growl.

Dante gasps. It's the first time he's ever heard me curse. I'd be worried about that if I wasn't infinitely more worried about grabbing the vase next to me and hurling it at Mikhail's head.

Sensing the dark turn things are about to take, Anatoly swoops in and ushers Dante towards the stairs. "Come on, amigo. Last one to the pool is a rotten banana."

"It"s a rotten egg," Dante laughs.

Anatoly scoops Dante up and balances him over his shoulder, fleeing the kitchen like it's on fire.

It might as well be.

My skin is hot and prickly with days' worth of frustration simmering under the surface. The intensity notches even higher when Mikhail finally deigns to look at me.

"You're really going to disappoint him because you're mad at me?" I snarl viciously. "Whatever is going on with us, I didn't think you'd let it affect your relationship with?—"

Before I can even finish, Mikhail turns… and walks away.

I gawk at his broad shoulders and long legs as he takes the stairs casually, pretending I don't even exist.

I'm stunned, but I'm not hurt.

No, I'm too angry to be sad.

I stand motionless for one second, five, ten. Then the sound of his office door snicking closed snaps me out of it.

Anatoly told me to give Mikhail time. He'll come around, he said.

I charge up the stairs, my hands in tight fists at my sides. If he doesn't want to come around, that's fine. I'll bring him around.

For the first time in his entire life, Mikhail Novikov doesn't get a choice.