3. Daphne
3
I haven’t been asleep for a while. I just want him to think I am. It’s probably the only way he’ll let me see him be real.
For once.
I was dreaming of labor and babies and dancing sheep when I felt like someone was near me. It pulled me out of my dreams until I was able to open my eyes.
Pasha crying and whispering over our baby is the last thing I expected to see.
My heart hurt watching him. I wanted to sit up and pull him to me, but I was too afraid of losing this moment. He was so, so angry with me when he left. Wouldn’t he return to being angry once he discovered I was awake?
When Mak leaves, Pasha moves from the chair to the bed and sits down next to me. I don’t know why… Oh. He’s stroking my hair.
That’s… fuck. I can’t fake it anymore.
I feign a sleepy yawn and peel open my eyes. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Pasha smiles at me. I’m… I’m not sure what to think about that. “How do you feel?”
I don’t know why I laugh. It’s an ugly snort that makes me regret moving because shit, my stitches hurt. “Like I just ripped myself in half. Worth it, though.”
It really was worth every second. She’s so beautiful. So perfect. I can hardly believe she came from me.
Pasha doesn’t stop caressing me. He’s all warmth and love and tenderness and I need to focus on something else before I break.
“When did you get in?” I ask.
He blows out a heavy breath. “I don’t even know. I was just… I was so focused on getting here. I wasn’t even paying attention to that.”
“You’re here now.”
“Yeah.” His smile wavers. “I’m here. Now.”
The air feels heavy around us. It’s thick with the thousand things we’re choosing to ignore, a thousand little and not-so-little things that need to be addressed at some point.
Like where we stand.
Like where the hell he was instead of here, with me, like he promised he would be.
Like why my last name isn’t exactly… accurate.
Speaking of names… “Are you mad?” I reach for Taty’s foot and squeeze the blankets wrapped around it. “That I named her without you?”
“Not even a little.” Pasha says it without hesitation. I actually believe him. “After everything you did to bring her into this world, it’s your right as her mother to name her whatever the hell you want.”
I give him a tight smile. I have to try to not fall apart under the warmth of his—especially when there is still the glistening of happy tears in the corners of his eyes.
Taty wriggles in her bundle, twisting unhappily until she scrunches her face and breaks into an ear-piercing wail. Before I can panic, Pasha stands.
“Is she okay? Is she hurt? Is something?—”
“She needs her diaper changed,” he interjects calmly. “I’ll take care of it. You rest.”
I slump back on the pillows and watch him get to work changing her diaper. How does he know all this? How does he know what to do and when to do it?
How come I don’t?
I rearrange the pillows behind me and struggle my way upright. Watching Pasha move is so strange and so natural at the same time that my brain nearly cracks in two trying to make sense of it. He’s the same man he’s always been—efficient, huge, calm as a glacier.
But he hums as he works. Songs. Music coming from his lips.
Wonders never cease.
I don’t think I ever doubted he’d be a capable father; I just didn’t expect to see him being a great dad. It’s endearing and doing all sorts of things to my insides. And my hormones. And my heart.
And I just can’t deal with it all right now.
He reassembles her onesie and swaddles her back up in her receiving blanket, cooing at her in response to her own tiny babbles. She’s not even a day old, and she’s already trying to hold conversations.
She looks so tiny in his massive arms as he carries her back over to me.
My hands are trembling as I reach to take her. This will be my first time attempting to breastfeed. This will also be my first attempt to tackle at least one of the issues standing between me and her father.
Pasha turns to leave us once he sees she’s settled into my arms, but I grab his hand. “No. Please… stay. We need to talk.”
He grimaces as he sits back down. Maybe I went too far, too soon? But the fact that he sits on the bed instead of the chair is a good sign, right?
Taty fits perfectly into the crook of my arm. She’s a welcome warmth, both to my body and my soul, and I don’t know if I could ever ask for more. I carefully ease my breast from behind the loose gown and guide her little mouth to my nipple. The nurse said it might take a few tries to get her to latch, so I figure diving into the conversation neither of us want to have is a decent distraction.
“I didn’t lie to you. Well, not more than the average person.” I already want to kick myself for how lame that sounds. “I’m not saying that’s any better. I’m just… What I’m trying to say is, I never went out of my way to deceive you. For me, it was like being in witness protection. Not a lie to harm anyone. Just a deception to protect people.”
His face is guarded, carefully neutral. “People like your parents?”
“At first. I mean, that’s what I told myself when I changed my name. Since you didn’t come after me when you went after Melanie, everyone realized you didn’t know there was another sister. And I didn’t know who you were. Like, at all. So changing my last name and distancing myself from them was—I told myself, anyway—the best thing I could do as their daughter.” I wince when Taty presses her gums particularly hard on my nipple. “But the more I think about it… I think I did it to protect myself.”
Pasha doesn’t say anything. Just nods for me to go on.
“I basically grew up in boarding school. We both did, Melanie and me. It’s why we’re so close. We were the only family we had. Even when we came back for the holidays, it was more like… like we were ornaments they brought out to show off to their friends. Once the show was over, it was back in the box we went.”
He tilts his head to one side and studies me. “Your father worked for me. For my father, too. It’s hard to believe we never crossed paths.”
I try to hide the wince of pain when Taty gums my nipple painfully. I need her to suck, not chew. “Maybe we did. I’m not sure. But I think by the time you became CEO, I was off to college. And honestly, I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. So was Melanie.” I glance up at him. “It’s why she doesn’t hate you for… you know. What you did. It gave her the perfect excuse to run. Be free.” Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “One time, she actually joked about sending you a thank-you card and a gift basket for doing her the favor. It was just icing on the cake when you ruined our parents, too.”
Pasha reaches out to caress Taty’s plump cheek. He only grunts, and again, nods for me to continue.
I don’t know what more there is to say… until I see a flash of metal in his coat pocket draped over the chair. “I have another secret. I don’t think I ever told you why I’m so afraid—was afraid—of guns.”
“Most people are.”
“To my extent?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Okay. Maybe not as much.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath and pray my milk will start flowing. Any minute now. I also pray this conversation is actually doing us some good, rather than him just humoring me until he leaves. “I was… held at gunpoint. When I was a kid.”
His fingertips on Taty’s face pause.
“It was one of those kidnappings purely for the money. Pay a certain amount, or the kid gets it. They grabbed me off my bike during a summer break and tied me to a chair. Pressed a gun to my head and recorded it all for my parents to watch.” I close my eyes at the memory. “The guy holding the gun shot and killed one of his accomplices just to prove how real the thing was.”
Fresh hot tears sting my eyes. I haven’t thought about this nightmare for years. I shake my head.
“My father refused to ‘negotiate with terrorists.’ Told them they could shoot me for all he cared; he wasn’t going to give them a single dime.” I gaze down at my baby’s face so I don’t have to look at her father’s. Even so, I can feel the fury rolling off of him in waves. “I was seven, at the time. And the amount was only seven million. One million for each year. They threatened to raise it by another million for each year they’d take from me, hour by hour, if my parents didn’t pay up. It didn’t matter. Stewart Hamish never gives in.”
Pasha has never been so still, so grave, or so silent.
“Eventually, they let me go.” Saying it out loud actually helps dry my tears. Because goddamn, it awakens something inside me I didn’t know has been sleeping this whole time. “Can you believe that? This band of kidnappers and thieves and, and, murderers… they felt bad for me. They felt bad for me. Said they’ve never seen a parent just give up on their kid like that. I was still tied up and thrown onto the front doorstep, but they let me go. And then Dad said, ‘See? This is why we don’t give in to demands. They’re never strong enough to go through with it.’”
Pasha doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to. I can sense how enraged he is just listening to this, and I get it. Holding Taty in my arms, feeling her at least try to nurse from my breast… I’d murder the man who tried to kidnap her. And I’d pay every cent, with interest, if anyone ever did.
“I’m telling you all this because I want you to know that I only lied about my name. Nothing else. I’m really, genuinely not close with my parents. At all. Did they tell me to get in your bed and get all your secrets for them? Yes.” When he whips his hard gaze to me, I shake my head again. “I didn’t even think about it. I refused. I wouldn’t have done it even if you were a stranger to me. But by then, you were… I mean, we were… We had…” I gesture to Taty.
We were pregnant.
What is there left to say? I’m tired. I can’t think of anything else. I’m grateful he let me speak my piece, and I’m hoping it at least smooths a few things over for Taty’s sake. She deserves a happy, healthy family, even if her parents aren’t together as a couple.
The longer he remains silent, the heavier my heart feels. I hoped for at least a follow-up question. Something. Taty has decided she doesn’t want to nurse, so I tuck my breast behind the gown and nestle her close to me. Focus on her perfect little features. Do what I can to ease the pain.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
I shove down the disappointment, the still very visceral memories of his absence, and wave him off. “It’s fine?—”
“It’s not fine. I intended to be here. I swore to you I’d be here.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I never wanted you to go through that alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.” For which I will be eternally grateful.
“You weren’t alone when we made her, either.” He strokes his finger over her soft cheek. His voice is thick with emotion, with sadness and regret. And guilt. So much fucking guilt. “We made her together, and we were supposed to birth her together. But I failed. And I lied.”
Of course he’s human. Of course he’s entitled to his emotions. I just… never thought I’d witness him having these. He’s always so tough and stoic and angry. Even his laughter usually has an edge to it.
I don’t want to push him. But I feel like knowing would help. A little. “Where were you? If I may ask.”
“You may always ask.” His eyes meet mine. “Always. I won’t hide from you.”
“Okay.”
And then he sighs. “I was arrested. And detained, literally. Across town at that shithole of a precinct.”
I can’t stifle my gasp. “What?! Why?”
“There’s what the special agent said and then there’s what my gut says.”
“‘Special agent’?!”
He nods. “Someone has an inside track to the feds. He had me arrested on suspicion of gunrunning.”
I let out my sigh of relief through my nose. “Okay. But you’re here, so obviously that means they’ve got nothing. But your gut…”
“My gut says it was your parents behind this. Using their connections to make my life hell.”
“Impeccable timing.” I shake my head. “They’re conniving, but they’re not that good.”
“You’re thinking it’s a coincidence?”
I bite my tongue. The way he’s looking at me, talking to me, it’s almost like he genuinely values my input. That would be… something. Something different. “You want my opinion?”
Pasha suddenly frowns at me like I’ve just slapped him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
I… I don’t actually know. Usually, people don’t care about my opinion unless it makes them money. This is different. This is about family. “I think it’s a wise move to assume nothing is a coincidence. Not until we can prove otherwise.”
Again, I bite my tongue, but only because I’m feeling a sudden surge of rage welling up inside me.
They stole this from us.
They stole something precious we’ll never, ever get back.
How could they?
How dare they?
“What are you going to do?” I ask him. I’m all fire and fury. No fear of what he could do. I know what he could do, and none of it scares me anymore.
Not if it will avenge our loss.
Pasha leans forward to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. And then he smiles, all wolfish teeth and dark promise.
“Don’t worry, moya plamya. I will make them pay.”