I’m unable to answer him, so I nod as a response. The doctor watches us peculiarly for a second, then takes his leave.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I face Kyle, trying as hard as hell to hold on to my cool. A volcano is raging inside me with the intention of sweeping me under.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
His eyes meet mine, and I see it, the cunning, the fucking victory. If I had any doubt, it’s now eradicated.
The asshole.
The fucking asshole.
Kyle takes my hand in his and brings it to his face, but I yank it away before he can kiss it.
“Is something the matter?” he asks nonchalantly, almost innocently.
“Something the matter? Something the fucking matter? I was on the pill. I shouldn’t be pregnant.”
Kyle keeps his cool. “I’ve heard it’s only ninety-nine percent effective.”
“Or zero if you switched them out.”
“Possibly.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I jump up from the bed, ready to punch him, but the world spins, putting a halt to my plans.
Kyle clutches me by the arm, but I yank it back, facing away from him to grip the bedpost. I want to scratch and claw at his damn face. I want to kick and hit him, but I feel too physically weak to inflict any pain.
“Why are you so angry? It would’ve happened at one point or another.”
My lips part. He’s not even trying to deny it or defend himself. He’s openly confessing that he switched out my fucking pills.
“Wow. I really want to kill you right now.”
“That will leave you alone with our baby, so I vote against that option.”
I turn around and punch him across his slowly healing face. He doesn’t attempt to avoid it, even though he must’ve seen it coming. “It’s not our baby.”
“You and I made him or her, so that makes the baby ours.”
“You made this happen.”
“Fine, but don’t get too agitated. It’s not good for your health.”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Right, why wouldn’t you?” My voice rises with a sense of mockery that’s so close to rage. “You’re the one who plotted for this all along, and it’s simply working according to your plan. Now what? What’s next in your grand plan? Are you going to put a few other babies in me?”
“If you want to.”
“I don’t want to! That’s why I took the damn pills.”
“Are you done?”
“I’m not fucking done! You know, this is why I can’t trust you, Kyle. This is exactly why. One moment, you make me feel as if the world is at my fingertips, then you go and stab me in the damn back.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Dramatic? You think this is dramatic? Oh, I will show you what dramatic is really like.” I push at his chest. “You and I are no longer on speaking terms.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t talk to me!”
“I’m not, you are.”
Frustration bubbles in my veins, but I bottle it up and storm out of the room. I’m well aware of Kyle following right after me. I stand in front of the car because I have nothing on me, not even a phone to call Ruslan and Katia. As soon as he opens the door, I slide in the passenger seat and stare out the window.
I try to ignore the memories that come with being in this seat. Less than an hour ago, he made me feel over the moon. Now, he’s done it again in a completely different way.
A sigh leaves him and I feel his eyes watching me. “Do you feel nauseous? The doctor gave me a prescription.”
I don’t respond and continue staring at the other cars through the window.
“So this is how it’s going to be? Silent treatment?”
Exactly.
Until I figure out what to do with the life growing inside me and the man who put it there.
Because there’s no way we’ll ever be the same after this.
23
Kyle
The drive home is spent in utter silence—the suffocating type.
Rai erases me completely and focuses her entire attention on the world outside.
I clench my fist around the steering wheel to keep myself from grabbing her and knocking some sense into her. That will only escalate things for the worse, so I stop myself.
After all, it’s not like she’s mad for no reason. I may have played it down at the hospital so she didn’t pop a nerve, but even I know her anger is legitimate.
As soon as we arrive at the Russians’ compound, she barges outside. Katia and Ruslan greet her at the entrance, and she merely nods in their direction.
I walk beside her, keeping up with her angry strides. Anger is good sometimes. It means she cares enough to be angry. It’s the lack of reaction that grates on my nerves.
We’re only two steps inside when Anastasia jerks up from her position at the bottom of the stairs and quits clinking her nails against each other. Was she sitting there all along? She’s in her pajamas, her white-blonde hair is barely brushed, and the dark circles under her eyes hint at many sleepless nights.