Chapter 41

Forty-One

R uby

I can't get the possibility that I might be pregnant from my mind. It's plagued me for three days—since I first set eyes on the realtor who sold Kirill the house. I feel like I'm drowning in worry.

I need a firm yes or no.

Steeling myself against my fear, I take the stool next to Pavel. His head twists to the side, and his eyes roam up and then down my body.

"You look—" he pauses. "Put together today."

I huff, but I'm smiling. Pavel is a tough nut to crack, but when you do, I've found he's macadamia sweet. I give his shoulder a friendly pat. "Why, thank you, Mac."

His face screws up in confusion. "I don't know why you call me that."

"You likely never will," I singsong.

"I don't like it."

"Tough nuts, Mac."

He grunts, lifting his coffee and taking a long gulp. I cringe, because the man drinks it black. Coffee doesn't smell appealing on a sugary, creamy day. But his coffee is like sniffing glue. It's that strong.

Maxim takes that moment to enter the kitchen, his brows lifting as he takes me in. "Look who is all dressed up with nowhere to go. Feeling better?"

"Actually, I was hoping we would maybe head out today."

Pavel's head swivels to me. "What?"

"To—say—a drugstore or something."

His brows snap together. "You're not feeling better?"

I jump on the excuse. "Actually, no. My stomach is really bothering me. I was hoping to maybe speak with a pharmacist. I have a history of ulcers and I've been so stressed—the vomiting and?—"

"I get it." Pavel is still frowning at me as he barks, "We'll leave in fifteen. Maxim, you're coming."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm in the back seat next to Maxim smiling like a goof even as I wring my hands nervously in my lap.

Pavel peers at me in the rearview mirror. "You are nervous."

"I haven't been out without Kirill since—well…" I shrug. "You know."

He studies me even as he drives. "If this is a plan to escape, I should let you know I am an excellent hunter. And although I love a good chase, I very much dislike the idea of having to chase you."

I roll my eyes. "Don't get your nuts in a twist, Mac. I have no intention of running."

"Stop calling me Mac."

Maxim twists to me. "You're kind of obsessed with his nuts."

My mouth falls open. "Ew! Don't let Kirill hear you say that. It'll be the end of Mac, and I'm starting to kind of like him."

Pavel's teeth grind behind his jaw. I bite back a giggle as Maxim leans closer to me. "Why do you call him Mac?"

"He's a hard nut, but he's sweet on the inside." I lean closer to whisper, "Like a Macadamia nut."

Maxim is silent for a long minute. And then the man howls. He throws his head back and everything. "Mac. I like it." He claps Pavel on the shoulder. "Hey, Mac, it suits more than you know."

"Call me Mac again and I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to Rafiki."

I gasp. "Rafiki has more taste than that!"

"The cat is a lion in kitten fuzz. He would happily devour it."

"Honestly," I mutter more to myself than them. "You're all rubbing off on me if I'm not horrified by this conversation. Maybe I should try my hand at escape."

"Better not." Maxim shakes his head. "Pavel will catch you and feed you to Kirill."

I raise a brow. "Is that supposed to deter me?"

Maxim laughs. Even Pavel's lips twitch.

Maxim says affectionately, "You do belong with us."

"Yeah," I agree softly, feeling more emotion that I like to admit. "I think I do."

Pavel won't leave my side. I've even tried to sway him away by blubbering about really gross bodily fluid—the kind one expels when one is very, very ill. He simply gives me a shake of his head, his decision firm and unshakeable.

My eyes drift to where Maxim waits just inside the door. "Really, Mac, you can just go stand with him. I'll be quick."

"No."

"I'm asking for privacy." It's my last attempt. I've tried everything else. "Please."

"I was hired to keep you safe. I can't ensure your safety if you're on the other side of the store." His eyes are hard. "My answer is firm."

I huff. "Fine." I start for the aisle I need, hesitating.

Pavel touches a hand to the small of my back. "The pharmacy is that way."

My nose is beginning to burn, and my hands are trembling now. My feet—well, they're rooted to the floor.

Then, with a steely breath, I set my shoulders and march into the aisle with Pavel on my heel.

I stop in front of the wall of pregnancy tests, and pluck two double packs from the shelf. Pavel's eyes slide to me and stay there. I feel emotion swell behind my eyes and will myself not to cry.

Seeing it, Pavel softens. "Hey…"

"Don't tell him."

"Fuck, Ruby—I can't do that."

"I want to tell him—if—if it is positive. I want to do it, okay?"

He gives me a careful nod, and I spin on my heel and march back down the aisle. On my way to the register, I grab a tub of gummy bears and brick of white chocolate.

If it's positive, like I fear it will be, I'm going to need something to drown my sorrows in. Because as much as I've always wanted to be a mother—I'm not sure this is the kind of life I should be bringing a child into.

I suppose I should have thought of that before I slept with my husband.