20. Konstantin
20
KONSTANTIN
THREE WEEKS LATER
In the three weeks since she finally confessed her love for me, Emily has finally started feeling more at ease with her pregnancy.
Unfortunately, it also means that she’s starting to show some of the other symptoms. While she does her best to fight back the nausea in the mornings, I’ve had to hold her hair back more than once as she vomits upon waking.
Even in such a short time, she’s also starting to fill out some of her curves.
Her breasts have started growing heavier with milk, her hips seem to widen with each passing day, and there’s a new delicious thickness about her body that makes it almost impossible for me to take my eyes off her.
Her appetite has also grown voraciously—both for food and for me.
On the rare occasions when I can tear myself away from her, my mind turns towards the ever-pressing problem of keeping everyone here safe.
All of that is relegated to the back of my mind right now as I sit with Emily, waiting for the doctor to come for her scheduled appointment with a new obstetrician.
“Are you alright?” I lean down and whisper. “You seem nervous.”
“I am nervous,” she admits. “I’m always worried that there’s going to be bad news.”
“We won’t.” I press my lips to her forehead. “I’m sure of it.”
Emily will be the perfect mother. That much I know. She’s intelligent, caring, loving, and loyal. She’ll raise the children to be good people, who look out for others and try to do the right thing, just like Emily does.
Not like me.
I’m the one who brings darkness over us.
As long as I’m part of this baby’s world, there will always be a shadow hanging over him. I have no illusions about the kind of man I am. I deal in vengeance, greed, and death. My hands are so stained with blood, they’ll never be clean. No matter what I do, I’ll always carry my sins with me. Every dark, twisted thing I’ve ever done.
That kind of evil doesn’t just fade away. It leaves a mark on everyone who shares my blood, even my children.
One day, my sins will become theirs.
I look at Emily again, and notice her biting her lip nervously. Her leg shakes, betraying the nervous energy boiling under the surface.
I force myself to take slow deep breaths. I’m being selfish right now, I remind myself. She needs me to support her through this pregnancy.
“Mrs. Siderov?” The doctor, followed by several nurses bringing in a whole slew of different machines, greets us in a posh English accent the moment she walks in. “How are you doing today? I’m Dr. Beatrice Kahn. ”
Emily looks over at me with a questioning look in her eyes upon hearing the posh English accent and I grin at her. I had Sima find the most highly rated obstetrician in all of Europe. In addition to her professionalism and discretion, Beatrice Kahn is rumored to have personally delivered several princes and princesses, including at least one Prince of Wales.
Which makes her the exact person I want around my wife during her pregnancy.
Emily rolls her eyes playfully when she sees my grin and puts a pleasant smile on her face for Dr. Kahn. Relief seems to settle in her heart and she looks more at ease now.
“I’m doing wonderful, doctor. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course,” she replies. “Now let’s take some pictures of your baby.”
Emily leans back and unbuttons her jeans so a nurse can spread the ultrasound gel on her stomach. Once everything’s set up, the curtains are drawn and the lights are dimmed so that we can see the display more easily.
After a moment of pressing the wand against Emily’s belly, Dr. Kahn stops and points to the screen.
“There’s your baby,” she says. “Right there, that’s the head. And if we look here …” She maneuvers the wand. “We can even see the beginnings of a little limb.”
I squint at the image expecting to see something that looks more like a real baby. But the image on the screen still looks like a blob to me.
“Is everything okay? There’s nothing wrong with the baby?” Emily asks.
“Yes. Your baby is growing well,” Dr. Kahn says. She hits a few keys on the computer and maneuver the wand again. “In a few more weeks, you should be able to determine the gender. Would you want me to tell it to you when the time comes? Or would you prefer to be surprised?”
I meet Emily’s eyes.
“Boy or girl,” I say. “I’ll love them all the same.”
She grins. “Am I crazy if I want to be surprised?”
“Then we’ll keep it a surprise,” I say, squeezing her hand.
I don’t mind waiting. As long as the baby’s healthy, I’ll accept whatever else might come our way.
“Would you like to hear the baby’s heartbeat?” Dr. Kahn asks.
Emily’s eyes light up at the offer. “Already? I thought that comes later.”
“A common misconception, actually.” She laughs. “The heart is one of the first organs to develop. “And your husband was so kind to have personally purchased all of this equipment, so that is something we can do today.”
“He sure likes to spare no expenses,” Emily says and gives me an adoring look. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Very well, then. One moment, please.” She turns a dial on the machine and the telltale whoosh of ultrasound fills the room.
I find myself holding my breath as she shifts the wand over Emily’s belly.
Suddenly, I feel nervous. When I’m not buried between Emily’s legs or worrying about Domenico, I had been reading up on everything I can about child development.
What if something is wrong? What if our enthusiastic bouts of lovemaking these days has somehow managed to hurt our child in some irreparable way? What if Emily hasn’t been eating enough of what she’s supposed to be eating? What if we missed some crucial signs?
But then, I hear it .
The slow, steady thump of a heartbeat.
And everything is no longer the same.
I’ve always been more reserved in the moment, choosing to have some quiet time for self-reflection before letting emotions register.
But this … this is something else. Emotions overwhelm me so suddenly and completely, that it’s as if a tidal wave is pulling me to the ocean. Staggering. Overwhelming. The rhythmic boom-doom-boom-doom of our child’s heartbeat sends mine racing.
It makes everything real in a way it wasn’t before.
Once upon a time, I thought that I would understand the desire to protect my child once I’m confronted with the reality of it. I know that conceptually, I’d do anything for my child.
Nothing has felt as visceral as this. It’s not just an urge or a desire. It’s a need.
I would burn down the world without hesitation to safeguard the precious baby whose heartbeat is filling the air around us.
And Emily is the one who made this happen.
My gaze softens when her eyes lock onto mine. Our hands find each other and squeeze softly. I know what her heart says even if there’s not a single word exchanged between us.
“This is real,” she murmurs to me, eyes shine with unshed tears of happiness.
“It is,” I echo, taking her hand.
Time goes by in a blur as the appointment ends. I can tell from Emily’s face, she’s just as dazed and overwhelmed as I am. I put my arm around her for support as we walk Dr. Kahn and her team out the makeshift examination room.
Then, I hand Emily over to Ivica standing beside the door, and continue walking with Dr. Kahn to the cars outside.
“One more thing, Mr. Siderov.” She hands me a piece of paper, smiling. “I thought the two of you might want some pictures.”
I look down at the strip of black-and-white photos. It still looks like an indistinguishable blob, but there’s no doubt that it is the tiny shape of life that I had just saw and heard.
Our baby.
I tuck it into my suit jacket, next to my heart.
“Thank you, Dr. Kahn.” I tell her.
“I’ve prescribed Mrs. Siderov with the usual course of prenatal vitamins,” she says. “So far, everything looks to be in proper order. But if you should have any questions, please feel free to reach out.”
“I will.”
When I arrive back inside, Emily is already upstairs resting.
I take this opportunity to sit down in my office in an attempt to catch up on all the other work awaiting me, as I have for the past three weeks.
I’ve fallen behind on overseeing our businesses. And Domenico is still nowhere to be found.
But as soon as I walk past the office door, none of those things feels important anymore.
Without taking a seat, I turn around, and walk out until I reach an oft-unused room instead, and push open the door.
As expected, the room hasn’t been used in quite some time. The staff has taken to storing general cleaning equipment and spare pieces of furniture in here. It’s well stocked with tools, wood, and paint .
The afternoon sun angles into the room, bathing it in golden light.
Mentally, I clear the room and imagine it with newfound purpose. Yes … I think, this would do nicely as a nursery.
“Ivica!” I call.
“Yes, Konstantin Yurevich?” She appears almost instantaneously.
“Find me the best carpenters in all of Dubrovnik,” I tell her. “And tell them that I have a very special project.”
An hour later, Emily and I dine on freshly made truffle risotto as we watch the sunset. I have a whiskey, and she opts to sip on sparkling apple juice. We’re not celebrating anything, but it still feels like a special occasion.
“Have you thought about a name?” she asks me.
“No,” I answer. Truthfully, before Emily, I hadn’t put much thought into fatherhood. I have no preconceived notions of how I intend to raise my child.
“Do you want something traditional?” she suggests.
“I prefer a name to have meaning for both of us,” I muse.
“How about Alisa?” Emily smiles. “She already sees me as more of a mother than a sister-in-law.”
“No.” I wrinkle my nose. “You know neither of us will ever hear the end of it from her if we do.”
“That’s true,” she giggles, arching a brow. “What about Midas?”
“I don’t love my horse that much,” I scoff.
Emily laughs, then purses her lips.
By now, I can read her face well enough to know that she’s trying to figure out a suggestion that will annoy me even more .
But that’s the moment the perfect name enters my mind.
“What about,” I say solemnly. “Olivia.”
“Olivia?” Emily’s smile drops, but from the quiver in her voice, I know that I’ve made the right choice.
“I once promised you that when this is all over, you can have whatever you wanted.” I take her hand in mine. “You told me that the only thing you wanted was to have your sister alive again. I can’t bring your sister back, but I can let her live on through our child. Is that something you’d want? To see little Olivia’s smile each morning when you wake up? To teach her to be kind and brave and selfless like you?”
“I do.” Tears shimmer in her impossibly blue eyes as she wraps her arms around me. “What if he’s a boy?”
“If he’s a boy,” I continue. “Then we’ll name him Oliver. But one way or another, your sister’s memory and sacrifices will live on through our child.”
“Yes,” Emily whispers. She takes my hand in hers, her fingers soft against mine.
She snuggles close to me and presses her lips against mine, breaking contact only to add. “That’s perfect.”