“Julian and I think so, but we’re biased.”
“I think so as well,” Rosa says, grinning. “But I’m probably biased, too.”
“Do you have any children of your own?” I ask her, and she shakes her head, her smile fading.
“No, unfortunately not.” She comes up to me and reaches for the baby. “Come here, Lizzie, sweetie. You want to come to Aunt Rosa, don’t you?”
I’m not quite ready to give up the baby, but I have no choice. Lizzie goes into Rosa’s arms with a happy gurgle, and right away, the spot where I held her pressed against me feels cold and empty, my chest hollow in some strange new way.
This must be what it feels like to want a child—truly want one. I’ve handled babies before and enjoyed it, but I’ve never felt anything remotely like this.
Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant. Nature is preparing me to be a mother, releasing the hormones to make sure I welcome the child when it comes.
My hand goes to my stomach on autopilot as I watch Rosa carefully place the baby into her stroller, and when I look up, Nora’s eyes are trained on me in wide-eyed comprehension.
“How far along are you?” she asks quietly, and Rosa gasps, spinning around to stare at me.
“You’re pregnant?”
I bite my lip. It’s still too early to be telling everyone, but there’s no point in lying. “Yes,” I admit. “Six weeks along.”
“Wow, congratulations,” Rosa exclaims, staring at my stomach.
“Yes, congratulations,” Nora echoes with a warm smile. “I’m so happy for you and Peter.”
“Thank you,” I say, smiling back.
My old life is gone, but maybe this is the start of a new one, complete with new friendships.
Maybe over time, I’ll regain some of what was lost.
61
Peter
I approach the house just as the front door swings open and a small, dark-haired woman backs out with a stroller, saying, “—and while Dr. Goldberg is no OB-GYN, he does have an ultrasound machine. Julian ordered it for me when I was pregnant. So he can definitely take a look, make sure you and the baby are fine.” She turns and stops short. “Oh, hello, Peter.”
“Hi, Nora,” I say. Then I see her friend, the young maid from the house, standing behind her in the doorway, with Sara at her side. “Hello, Rosa,” I greet the maid before turning my attention to the only person who matters to me. “Ptichka, are you okay?”
Sara nods. “I’m perfectly fine. Nora was just telling me about their resident doctor, in case I want to get checked out after everything. But I don’t think—”
“That’s an excellent idea,” I say firmly. “Let’s have him check you out today.” I remember Goldberg from my time here, and while I’d rather have Sara seen by an obstetrician, Esguerra’s trauma surgeon is as brilliant as they come.
“Fine,” Sara says. “But he should check you out too.”
I shrug. “If you want.” When we arrived yesterday, she changed all my bandages and put in some new stitches, and I’m more than confident in her work. But if she’d feel better with another doctor seeing me as well, I don’t mind.
Anything to keep my pregnant wife calm and content.
Nora clears her throat, and I realize I completely forgot that she and Rosa are standing there.
“Pardon me,” I say, stepping back to let them pass, and as the stroller rolls past me, I catch a glimpse of a tiny face with bright blue eyes.
Lizzie Esguerra.
My chest squeezes with a sudden fierce ache. Fuck, I miss Pasha. After all this time, it still hits me like a wrecking ball, the knowledge that he’s gone, that the dimple-cheeked baby who grew into a clever toddler will never go to school, never grow up and have children of his own. Nothing can fill that gaping void, yet as my gaze falls on Sara, I feel the worst of the pain easing, a healing warmth replacing the clawing agony of grief.
I may never hold Pasha again, but I will hold my child with Sara. I can picture it already. If it’s a girl, she’ll be sweet and graceful, like a little ballerina, and if it’s a boy… Well, he won’t be Pasha, but I will love him just as much.
“Thank you again,” Sara calls out, waving at Nora and Rosa as they head down the road to Esguerra’s mansion, and they wave back with smiles as I enter the house and close the door behind me.
62
Henderson
I rub my neck as I stare out the window at the icy landscape.
The cabin is as isolated as can be, far out of the way of the hordes of tourists invading Iceland in the hopes of seeing the Northern Lights.
My enemies won’t find us here, though I know they’re going to do their best to try. For now, my family and I are safe, but I don’t delude myself that we can stay here for any measurable length of time.