Chapter Twelve
Ryleigh
Alexei’s still at practice. I’ve showered, straightened the apartment, and am now sitting on the floor playing with Ella.
On one of his last shopping trips, Alexei picked up a couple of stuffed animals and a baby rattle, and I’m having a blast making this little baby smile, and getting such a kick out of the cute noises she makes as she plays.
Ella gets a grip on the pig, brings it to her face, and gnaws on its ear with a level of commitment I genuinely admire.
“That’s aggressive,” I tell her. “I respect it.”
She makes a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a growl, and I laugh—this real, full laugh that surprises me, because eight days ago I didn’t know how to hold her without panicking.
I’m getting better at this. I can make a bottle one-handed. I know her cries now—the hungry one, the tired one, the one that just means she dropped her pacifier and wants someone to know about it. I can get her changed and dressed in under three minutes, which feels like an Olympic achievement.
And I know, deep down, that the reason I feel steadier is Alexei. His confidence with her rubbed off on me—the easy way he handles her, the calm in his voice when she’s screaming, the way he just figured things out and made me believe I could too.
Ella releases the pig and it tumbles to the floor again. She stares at her empty hands, confused, like the pig betrayed her.
“Gravity, babe. It’s a whole thing. You’ll get used to it.”
I hand it back and she immediately starts gnawing again, and I lean back on my palms and let my mind wander.
Last night. Dinner. The chicken and the classical music and the wine, and then the part where he told me what his teammates said.
I’ve been turning it over all morning, that conversation. His teammates doubts about me. The underlying worry. I keep poking at it, testing for a bruise, and finding one every time.
But the fact that Alexei told me about it, that he didn’t hide it or smooth it over or pretend everything was fine, matters more than the words themselves. He was honest. He let me see the doubt instead of performing certainty, and I don’t know what to do with a man who does that.
The men in my life—the few who’ve been there—were either liars or leavers. Sometimes both. Alexei is neither of those things, and that should make me feel safe, except safety is the thing that scares me most, because I’ve never had it long enough to trust it.
I shake my head and refocus on Ella, who’s now trying to fit her entire fist in her mouth alongside the pig’s ear.
“One or the other, baby girl. You gotta pick.”
My phone chirps on the coffee table and I reach for it.
Alexei.
This morning was fun.
I chuckle, my whole mood lifting with five words.
He’s right—this morning was fun. He woke me up with his mouth on my shoulder and his hand on my hip, and what followed was unhurried and warm and a little bit lazy, and I didn’t feel self-conscious for a single second.
He has this way of making everything feel easy, like we’ve been doing this for months instead of days.
I don’t know . . .
I type, biting my lip as I think about what to write next.
Your technique could use a little work.
I sit back on my heels and tickle Ella’s belly with the rattle, satisfied with my delivery.
His reply comes fast.
Little—there’s a word I’ve never heard before.
I snort. The man is . . . not small. In any capacity. And he knows it. My cheeks go warm thinking about this morning, about last night, about the way he held my gaze and asked you sure? And meant it.
I wait for his next message, half expecting something that would make me blush even harder, but Alexei’s a gentleman. What comes instead is:
Let’s discuss it tonight – after Ella’s in bed.
I type back deal and set the phone down, grinning like an idiot.
Ella lets out a whimper—not one of her happy sounds. This one’s different. Tired. She’s been awake for a couple of hours, and ever since Alexei mentioned getting her on a real schedule, I’ve been paying more attention to her wake windows.
“Ready for your nap?”
I lift her to my shoulder and rock her gently, patting her back. She nuzzles into my neck, her breathing already slowing, one fist still gripping the pig’s ear.
As I carry her down the hall, I think about Andi.
I didn’t know her well. She was a roommate—respectful, quiet, paid her rent on time.
We weren’t friends exactly, more like two people who shared space and occasionally watched the same TV show from opposite ends of the couch.
It worked. And then it didn’t. She was late on rent a couple of months, and then one day she was just gone. Moved out without a word.
I didn’t know she was pregnant. Didn’t know why she left. She must have been at least a couple of months along by then.
When she showed back up months later with Ella, she looked thin. Too thin for someone who’d just had a baby. All she said was that they needed a place to crash for the night. I was so surprised to see her—surprised and maybe a little relieved that she was alive—that I said yes without thinking.
By morning, she was gone. Ella was crying, hungry, and there was a note on the kitchen counter. Two words. I’m sorry.
Where are you, Andi?
I can’t shake the feeling that she’s in trouble. Real trouble—the kind you don’t bring a baby into. Part of me is furious with her. Part of me understands, or tries to. And all of me aches for this little girl in my arms whose mother just walked away.
“You’re safe,” I whisper into Ella’s hair. “I promise.”
Ella’s already half-asleep, her body heavy and warm against my chest. I lay her down in the crib, tuck her blanket around her, and make sure the pig is within reach.
The apartment is quiet. Alexei’s room—our room, I guess, which still feels surreal—is dim with the curtains drawn. I lie down on his side of the bed because it smells like him, and I pull the covers up.
For the first time in a long time, I feel something close to peace. Not the loud, confident kind. The quiet kind. The kind that settles in when you stop fighting for five minutes and just let yourself be where you are.
My life is still a mess. Andi is still missing. I still work at a club I hate. Alexei’s teammates think I’m a liability, and maybe they’re right.
But Ella is napping in the next room, warm and fed and safe. And tonight Alexei will come home, and he’ll kiss my forehead, and we’ll eat dinner together, and after Ella’s down, we’ll discuss his technique, which—for the record—does not need any work at all.
I close my eyes and smile into his pillow.
Eight days. It’s not enough to know someone.
But it’s enough to know I want to stay.