Chapter Thirty-Two
In which we find… well, shit.
Ava…
It doesn't hit me until I see a bit of blood in my underwear.
"Oh, good," I say sourly, "another one of my spotty periods." Surely they have feminine hygiene supplies here. My periods are so irregular that I didn't think to bring any. Dmitri's already gone for another interminable round of meetings, so I'm on my own here.
I search through the four bathrooms in this wing of the almost offensively enormous Morozov mansion, then give up. I don't feel comfortable chasing down one of the maids or Magda, the housekeeper, asking if they have an extra tampon in their purse.
Rurik is downstairs in the kitchen, tearing into what looks like a turkey leg. "Hey, could you drive me to a nearby drugstore?" I ask. "Once you're done consuming… that?"
Magda hurries over, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Is there something that I can get you Mrs. Morozova?
" she asks. The entire staff switched flawlessly into addressing me as Mrs. Morozova the moment we returned home last night.
Somebody sent advance notice. Or, maybe everyone already knew. Everyone but me.
"Oh, I'm fine," I say. "It's a good excuse to get out, stretch my legs and look around.
" She smiles as if she can't imagine a lady of the house wanting to stretch their legs, but she nods dubiously.
Rurik has finished his turkey leg with impressive speed and is already putting the plate in the dishwasher by the time I turn around again.
"Look at you, tidying up after yourself!" I say approvingly.
"It is that or my wife will kill me with her cast-iron frying pan," he rumbles. It hits me then how little I know about the two men who are willing to give their lives for me.
"How long have you been married?" I ask, following him out the front door and to the car where Matvey is waiting.
"Eleven years,." He opens the door for me, checking our surroundings.
"You must've been so young," I say, putting my hand over my heart. "Were you childhood sweethearts?"
Matvey chuckles as he takes the wheel. "He frightened off all the girls in school after he picked up the headmaster and held him over his head."
"It was one time," grumbles Rurik.
"What about you, Matvey?" I ask.
His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "I am single. I can leave my dirty dishes scattered all over my apartment if I wish."
We spend the drive to the drugstore talking about children, nosy in-laws, and how to separate the Christmas holidays between the families. For a moment, it feels like I'm back in the cafeteria at the hospital, swapping stories with my coworkers. I've missed that more than I realized.
Rurik clears the area for me, an action that makes me feel like a pretentious asshole every time, and I hurry into the drugstore before he can clear the entire store of innocent shoppers.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to pick something up for you?
" he asks. "If you have any questions, I'm happy to ask them for you.
I don't know if the clerks here speak English. "
"Well, since you're a married man, I'll traumatize you and tell you that I'm getting feminine hygiene supplies," I say, watching him blush slightly. I didn't know Rurik was capable of a blush. This day is full of surprises.
"I will leave you to your shopping," he says, backing away a bit. "I will stay a few steps behind."
Maybe his wife has never made him do a late-night run for tampons and chocolate before.
I find a brand that looks essentially close to what I buy at home and as I take it off the shelf, it makes me think.
Have I ever used tampons while I've been staying with Dimitri?
Even with my erratic periods, surely I should've…
I grab hold of the shelf, instantly lightheaded.
It was only the one time without a condom and he pulled out and I thought I was close to my period anyway and what kind of medical professional bases birth control on idiot assumptions like that?
"Fuck me," I whisper, staring at the brightly colored boxes in front of me with pictures of smiling women holding pads, then I look back at Rurik.
He's scanning the entrance and the sidewalk outside.
I move down a few steps and grab a fistful of pregnancy tests, covering them in my basket with a large bag of what looks like the Russian version of peanut M&Ms. I'd originally asked if they could drive me to a nearby park or maybe an outdoor market.
Now, clutching my bag, all I can think about is getting the hell back and locking the master bathroom door.
***
"You are a medical professional, right?" Priya's dying to laugh, I can hear it. "Were you depending on the rhythm method? Or was it pulling out?" I wince at that last one. "Do I need to remind you about how this works?" Oh, she's on a roll now. "When a man and a woman love each other very much…"
I'm slumped on the bathroom floor, staring at three little plastic sticks that determine my future, lined up neatly in front of me on the marble tile.
"Did I mention that Dmitri's master bathroom has a fireplace in it?
" I say. "Unsurprising since that was the primary source of heat when this building was originally built back in-"
"Take a breath," Priya says crisply. "Say the word."
I'm still staring at the pregnancy tests as I clear my throat. "Focus."
"Atta girl!" she says.
"Did you just say 'atta girl'?" I ask. "When has that ever come out of your mouth before?"
"Shut up," she snaps. "I'm trying to be supportive here." There's a short silence and then she says, not without sympathy, "You're going to have to tell Dmitri. Boy, that surprise wedding came at just the right time, huh?"
"Not yet." The words burst from me so quickly that I surprise myself. "I need a moment. I need to think about this."
"If your calculations about your irresponsible and unprotected sex are correct," she says dryly, "you're probably somewhere around three and a half to four months. Which means you're into the second trimester and it's time to make some decisions."
We both know what she means by decisions, but my mind rears back from it. Within seconds of realizing I was carrying this life I knew I was going to keep the baby, no matter what.
"Well, shit. This is a lot." I put my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle a sob.
"This year has been pretty fucked up for you," she agrees. "So, this tracks." She's silent for a moment. "I can't tell if you're happy crying or sad crying."
"It's mostly happy crying," I say. "I don't know if there's stunned crying but if there is, I'm doing some of that too."
"When are you coming home?" she asks.
"In two days. We have a funeral to attend tomorrow. Three of the Morozov guards were killed a few days ago. Dmitri will represent the family as the almost-Pakhan and-"
Oh, shit. Does that mean they expect me to act as the Pakhan's wife? Is there a title for that?
"That's sad," she commiserates. "Don't worry about the spotting, that's not particularly unusual at this stage in the pregnancy, unless it becomes heavy enough to require a pad, and then you'll need a doctor. One other than yourself."
"I'm a Physician's Assistant," I correct automatically.
"What do you need from me right now? I can overnight you Cheez-Its and Pepsi."
My thoughts are circling each other madly and I take a deep breath. "I'm just going to focus for a while. On this one thing. Maybe make a list on my phone."
"I'm here for whatever you decide. You know that," she says. "But if you do decide to make the whole wedding thing permanent and move into the master bedroom in Dmitri's penthouse, could you ask him if my mother-in-law can have his guest room?"
I howl with laughter, remembering Dmitri's expression when I'd joked with him about sub-letting his extra bedrooms when I first moved in. "He would rather buy your mother-in-law her very own apartment building."
"Good to know. You're going to need to start prenatal vitamins right away," she says, suddenly business-like. "And you'll need a scan as soon as you come back."
"Thank you, Priya. I love you," I sniffle. "You're the sister I never had."
"You have three sisters," she says.
"Like I said, the sister I never had," I agree.
"I'm hanging up," she laughs. "I love you. Go focus."
I sit on the edge of the tub, putting my hand lightly on my stomach.
At four months, the fetus has a fully functioning nervous system. Eyelashes and ears, I think. Muscle development means the mother might feel the first flutters of movement.
"Hey, baby. I'm just as surprised as you are," I whisper. "I'm so happy, though, that you're here."
***
Dmitri insists on being extra charming that night at dinner.
"Here, you must try this." He loads some caviar on a cracker. "This is Golden Imperial Osetra caviar. See how the pearls are pale to dark?"
Leaning in, I open my mouth to take the bite and his eyes darken. The delicate little eggs explode on my tongue, smooth, a bit briny.
"I'm going to have to stop hand-feeding you," he says regretfully. "I'm so hard right now that I'm surprised I'm not lifting this corner of the table."
I almost spray fish eggs out my nose, trying to smother a laugh.
There's something animated about him tonight. He loves St. Petersburg, that's clear. He cares about his people here.
Would he care about a baby? Did he want children? Not in the abstract, "Oh, I must have heirs," but right now? He would be patient with a child, I think. He would never hit them or tell them they were stupid.
He tells me about Bratva funeral traditions, and coaches me on how to say "I'm sorry for your loss" in Russian. When he shifts, reaching for his glass, I see a big red mark on his left forearm.
"Wait! When did you get hurt?" I reach for his arm, and he covers the mark.
"It isn't important."
"It is to me as your personal P.A.," I smile, trying to take his hand.