I head down the hall and to the garage, grabbing a set of keys hanging. I hit the engine as I open the garage door.
The auto start is a nice feature, but I don’t give it ample time to warm the car up before climbing into the front seat and heading out. Every so often, I glance at the clock.
The twins will be getting out of preschool soon. I’m familiar with their routine, and it’s the perfect time to check up on Aleksandra.
Depending on if she’s becoming accompanied by a guard and who will determine if I intervene or watch.
But either way, I need to see her and know that she’s all right.
I hurry across town and pull up in a space near the back of the preschool where the playground is situated. There aren’t any children outside playing. It’s bone-chilling outside. Winter is brutal, and snow begins to fall and blanket the streets.
Snow is covering the windshield.
I pull on a beanie and gloves and step outside into the frigid air. It’s well below freezing, and the snow is light and fluffy. The sun crests along the sky. Soon it will be dark and the roads icy and slick.
Stepping outside, the black boots help keep my feet warm. I shut the car door and shove my hands into my coat pockets.
A plow rushes down the street, kicking up snow and sludge. I hurry to get away before it kicks up against my dress pants, but I’m not quick enough.
I fucking hate winter.
The grumble of discomfort vanishes when I catch sight of Aleksandra in a deep red coat. It’s long and thick. She has the wide hood pulled up over her head and winter boots to match.
She hurries across the street and then stalks along the slippery sidewalk in haste to get into the preschool.
“Aleksandra,” I say, calling out to her.
She glances from her intended destination to me. Her eyes widen.
Is she afraid of me?
She shakes her head no and glances back over her shoulder. The vehicle across the street is lit up, the headlights on, the windshield wipers clearing the snow from the window as the SUV is parked with a driver behind the wheel.
She’s being watched. I slowly head toward her and take a seat on the nearby bench. It’s dusted with snow, which doesn’t help me stay dry, but it’s right near the school’s sidewalk entrance.
I can no longer see the vehicle, which means they can’t see me. Hopefully, they don’t realize who I am. If they do, we’re both screwed.
She approaches me and places her foot on the bench like she’s lacing up her winter boots.
“I don’t have much time,” she says. “Mikhail’s men are watching me. What is it?”
“I just needed to see you, to know that you’re all right.” I want to pull her against me, wrap my arms around her, and crush her in a hug. It’s stupid and crazy, but she brings out something inside me that’s foreign and unfamiliar yet warm.
Dare I say I might love her. I love Sophia and Liam. It’s impossible not to love them. They’re perfect. And the fact that she carried my children, it’s my weakness, Aleksandra.
Her eyes are glassy and red. She has dark circles beneath them. Has she been getting enough sleep? Her cheeks are rosy, but that’s probably from the cold. There’s a scratch on her neck, but she wiggles her coat higher, and I can’t see it any longer.
“I’m—it’s complicated,” Aleksandra says. “Mikhail is hosting an engagement party for me two weeks from Friday.”
I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat. Is this what she wants? “You’re getting married?” I wish I’d heard her wrong, but I know what I heard, and it’s unsettling.
Does she even love the man she’ll be bound to?
She pulls her foot down from the bench and then lifts her other boot to do the same, retying her laces. They’re long and lace from the heel to halfway up her knee, biding her a few moments with me.
It isn’t enough.
I want to see the twins, hug them, tell them they can return home with me. But I’m not sure that’s what they want, and I expect it isn’t what Aleksandra desires, either.