As my hand drifted toward Naomi’s stomach, I suddenly felt guilt at how I’d exploded at my own mother in St. Petersburg. For the first time, I understood the desperation she’d tried to convey to me. For the first time, I understood the animal desire to sacrifice everything in service of my child.
To do what was necessary. Even if those things were unspeakable.
I pulled Naomi closer to me, greedily drinking in her scent, and the shape of her body filled the space between us.
Nothing would harm our child.
Nothing would harm us.
I would do what was necessary.
I swore it.