Chapter 33
I’m second guessing myself every few minutes as I pace around the empty house. It doesn’t feel right to be here alone, even if I’m not really by myself. There are guards all over the place, but I don’t want them inside. I’ve told several of them to leave already, but they’re hanging around just outside, like something dangerous could spawn inside the house and kill me at any moment.
Ivan has his soldiers trained to the point of severe paranoia. That should make me feel safe, but I won’t feel a single positive emotion until Ivan returns from his mission.
I shouldn’t have let him go on his own. Even though there isn’t much I could do to help him, I feel like I should be there with him.
Oh, but the babies would be in danger. I couldn’t let that happen, either.
I’m pulling out my hair. Literally, I have found little clumps all over the floor where I’ve been pacing. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I’m just tearing them out and tossing them onto the floor as my feet erode grooves into the black marble.
What if Ivan is already dead? Then I would regret not having gone with him. Even if there wasn’t anything I could do to save him, what if I never got to say a proper goodbye?
I reprimand myself for thinking something so morbid, laying a light slap on my own cheek. Ivan is strong and capable. There’s no reason why he would be dead by now. He planned this mission down to the second. He’s going to come back home soon and chuckle at how anxious I’ve been.
I can hear his voice in the house already, calm and confident, deep and soothing. He’d pat me on the head like I’m a worried baby deer, bemused that I think there’s anything to be scared of at all.
Thinking of him makes me smile, but that smile turns into a bitter frown and an aching emptiness in my stomach when I remember he’s not actually here.
I don’t dare look at the clock. He never gave any return time, and if I start counting now it’ll only feel longer. I’ll start making up times when he must be back or something bad will have happened, and it’ll make me even more anxious.
It’s never good for a pregnant woman to worry like this. Ivan should know better than to leave me alone like this. It’s borderline cruel.
After a moment of anger toward him, I break from my pacing pathway to venture into the kitchen.
One good thing about being pregnant with triplets is that I’m always hungry, and Dr. Tracy told me I could eat as much as I wanted to at my current size whenever I’m hungry, and I’m hungry two times over. Hungry for food, and hungry for a distraction.
I throw together a sandwich and inhale it in half the time. Even with the amount of ingredients I used, I haven’t filled the void inside me. If anything, I only feel hungrier.
I finish off another sandwich and take a break from the food, worried about making myself sick. I did it before when I was stressed about Ivan spending so much time out of the house. I literally ate two tubs of ice cream and threw up in the toilet fifteen minutes later. I was too embarrassed to tell Ivan about it when he came home.
This time, I don’t really know when he’s going to arrive, so I don’t want to make myself sick again. Not only is it extremely unpleasant, but if he comes barging through the door as I’m vomiting on the carpet in the living room, I doubt he’s going to want to kiss me.
My stomach churns anyway, and I fear the worst, but just as I’m about to run to the bathroom, I hear an engine outside.
My stomach drops, and cold sweat forms on my forehead until I remember how many security guards there are outside. There’s no way this can be anything dangerous. In all likelihood, it’s Ivan.
But I’ll only believe it when I see his handsome smiling face again. Until then, all I can feel is fear and doubt.
As I rush to the front door, forgetting all about my nausea, it opens, and Ivan steps through into the lobby. I let out a squeal of excitement, coupled with uncontrollable tears as I jump into his arms.
His body smells like sweat and smoke, but he’s alive and that’s all that matters. I hug him so hard that he groans, but I refuse to let go until I’ve had enough. I need him close to me and I don’t want him to ever leave for so long again.
I look up at him, pressing my chin into his sternum. “How did it go?” I ask.
“It’s done,” he replies, a triumphant smile spreading over his face. “We’re never, ever doing that again.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, my dear,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Yes, I promise.”