Page 55 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
She needs to know I can be more than the man who watched her from a distance, or the one who wouldn’t let her leave. I don’t know exactly how I’ll prove it, but I’m going to try, and being patient feels like the right place to start.
It’s late afternoon by the time I leave my office and find Mila curled up on the couch, where she hasn’t strayed far from the last few days. With a blanket draped over her lap and wearing slouchy clothes, she has the tv on, but from the glazed look in her eyes, I doubt she’s even really watching.
She looks tired, thoughtful, and fragile in a way that stirs the need in me to check up on her and to make sure she isn’t losing her mind on the inside.
When I come closer and join her on the other end of the sofa, she glances at me, keeping her expression carefully neutral.
“Have you been avoiding me?”
The question catches me off guard, but I shake my head faintly. “No, I’m not avoiding you.”
Mila holds my gaze for a moment, then murmurs, “You could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m trying to give you space,” I offer, keeping my words as calm and sensitive as possible. “I didn’t want to crowd you.”
I can’t tell if she believes me or not, but she huffs. “I didn’t ask for space.”
“I figured you needed it, given everything.”
Her gaze sharpens just enough for me to catch. “You shouldn’t just decide that.”
Pulling in a slow breath, I nod. Even if I’m in a bit of a corner, I won’t be the one to tell her she’s wrong. Not with this. “Noted.”
For a beat, she seems surprised by the lack of a fight, but fortunately, her shoulders relax a little more.
Allowing her to lower her guard and smooth those sharp edges, I give her a moment before asking, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Mila murmurs, adjusting the blanket in her lap. She exhales, letting more of the truth slip. “And like my body doesn’t really belong to me anymore.”
Her honesty hits the mark harder than anticipated, and my chest aches more for her. “I won’t pretend like I know what that feels like, but I’m here. If you need anything, tell me.”
She lets out a humorless chuckle, absently rubbing at her forearm. “Demanding ginger and tea won’t make that go away.”
“I know…but you’re allowed to be demanding. And I mean it.”
When Mila glances at me again, I can see the various thoughts passing in her eyes, but she doesn’t vocalize them. Instead, we sit in relative quiet for a moment, save the TV still playing. Though there’s nothing hostile about this. It’s just heavy instead, like we’re both trying to navigate it simultaneously.
Finally, she murmurs, “What happens now?”
I’ve been considering that question again and again in my mind ever since the test came back positive, allowing me tochoose my words carefully. “Now, we take care of you and the baby.”
She blinks back at me, and I swear she flinches a little.
“I’m not talking about anything between us, or anything you haven’t agreed to. I mean the practical things…seeing a doctor, nutrition, safety.”
“And what about everything else? The ‘business’ stuff?”
“Is not my concern right now. We’ll figure the details out as we go.”
Mila’s gaze doesn’t waver, and her brows stay lightly pinched together like she isn’t sure if she should believe me. “You sound very calm for someone whose life is about to change.”
“I am calm, but that doesn’t mean I’m not coming to terms with it too,” I say honestly, not wanting to close myself off from her, as easy as that would be.
She frowns. “Then why aren’t you freaking out?”
Because scaring her is the last thing I want. Because at least one of us needs to be steady right now.
“Because panicking doesn’t help you.”
