Misha #2
Downing the rest of my now cold tea, I place it gently onto the table, fighting the urge to hurl it at the wall. Bile rises in my throat as I confront the feelings I’ve done my damnedest to tamp down, knowing that if I could just make it here, to Mila, she’d know what to do.
“I’m so fucking scared.”
My voice is small, which is just as well, because if I wake Thatcher and he’s grumpy, I’ll be on Mila’s shit list.
“I love her, and she deserves better than me. She deserves better than to be dragged into the life we live, threatened at every turn…Abby’s got so much spirit, and she should be free to flit about and not have to look over her shoulder every week.
As soon as I try to imagine our life together, I spiral into the worst-case scenarios, and it’s been increasingly impossible to sleep without her in my arms so I know she’s safe. ”
Hot tears spill from my eyes, and Mila reaches across to hold my hand, shifting Thatcher, whose cock flops out again.
With a huff, she adjusts his blanket and squeezes to signal me to continue.
I feel better, speaking all of this into the world instead of allowing it to fester, oozing more darkness into my already black soul.
“The nightmares…they’ve been gone for so long, but now they’re back. Not always just her. Sometimes the children, too. I just don’t understand how I can bring her into this.”
“You told her everything?”
Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Not everything. But plenty. Enough to make sure she understands that I’m not a good man—”
“False.”
“And that what we do to make a living isn’t redeemable—”
“Well, we have our moments.”
“But she just kissed me. She was as supportive as I could have ever hoped for, and the relief I felt when she didn’t run from me screaming was a high I thought would last forever.”
“Hmm,” Mila says, so I continue, keeping my voice low as I purge more and more.
“Then,” I whisper darkly, “the doubt hit. It’s already stressful to have Thatcher’s life in my hands, though I’m happy to do it for you, and you know I love him.
But to imagine anyone realizing she’s my weakness…
I don’t know how I’d ever let her out of my sight.
She’d resent me, eventually. It might not even take that long, once the honeymoon phase wears off.
If she wants to go to the mall or anywhere without her security detail, she can’t.
The freedom of her regular life would be over.
She can’t understand the full ramifications of that until she lives it, and then all it would take would be one slipup for her to be taken from me. ”
I leave the terror I feel for my future family unsaid, the tragic experience of Ellie’s family sitting like a bomb in my gut.
Obviously, we all felt for their loss, but now that I’ve become obsessed with the thought of a family of my own…
I was always just waiting for the right woman.
The joke’s on me, though. There’s no right woman for a man with so much blood on his hands.
“Can I tell you something and then ask you a question?”
Huffing a laugh at the classic phrase we’ve always used to call each other on our bullshit, I gesture for her to continue.
“You’re spiraling. I think deep down, you know that. But look at me. You’re spiraling. Can you try to take a couple of breaths and really listen to what I’m about to say?”
I nod, taking a few deep breaths and bracing myself for her verdict.
“You’re right—”
Fuck, I knew it.
“About the portion of this where you’ll always worry for her safety. You will. I know firsthand that what you say is true. If she’s not with you, you’ll feel it. But, moya sila, you’re missing the bigger point. It’s worth it.”
“I don’t know—”
“Nope! You told me you’d really listen. It. Is. Worth it. And you know that you’re catastrophizing, right? Worst-case scenario. I know that the Santori situation has been weighing on you, but other factors were at play there.”
Ignoring my questioning brow, she continues.
“Instead of thinking of the worst cases, can you agree with me that those are just some of the ways your life could pan out? And that there’s an entire spectrum of possibilities on the other side, any of which is better than the ones you’re so afraid of?”
“You’re in therapy too much.”
“You need to pick it back up, apparently. But I’m serious.
Of all the fears you have, we can’t erase them.
You’re right that it’s unrealistic to have her by your side every hour of every day, although she might surprise you when you suggest it and be more amiable than you expect.
As far as going places without security, have you asked her how she feels about it? ”
“No, there wasn’t much time before we left on this trip—”
“So she might not be bothered by it. Some women would kill to have security and a driver every time they leave the house. It might make her feel safe even without considering any additional threats beyond the regular crazies out there. And even if it’s not her preference, once you talk to her, she’ll understand. Ellie’s her friend, right?”
Ellie. I didn’t even think about having her do a Bratva 101 for Abby. They’ve been attached at the hip.
“They’re two peas in a pod lately.”
“Exactly. Ellie can answer questions, take her shopping, and show her how discreet the detail is. They can do self-defense lessons together, all that shit. Just plan to have the evening off the first time you take her to the range.”
“Why?”
Mila shrugs and goes back to scratching Thatcher’s scalp.
“It’s fucking hot.”
“Hmm, who’s fucking hot?” Thatcher’s sleepy mumble as he raises his head out of Mila’s lap interrupts us, but I can tell from her gaze that we’ll be revisiting this conversation later.
“Therapy,” Mila mouths at me as Thatcher sits up fully, blanket falling to the floor once again.
When he sees me, he squeaks and pops up, reaching me in two strides and sitting in my lap to hug me. Within seconds, his breathing slows again, and Mila comes to wrap a blanket around us both.
“He’s touch starved. I told you he would need cuddles!”
“Can I carry him to your bed so he can cuddle you?”
With a soft smile, she picks him up, blanket and all, and moves toward her bed.
“I can handle him, thank you. Just think about what I said, okay, moya sila? You’re thinking so much, it might as well be about more positive things.”
She’s right. I know she’s right.
“I’ll try, moya tsaritsa. You know how stubborn I am.”
“Will I see you for coffee and a sunrise?”
For a moment, I consider telling her how soundly I’ve been sleeping. How late I’ve been sleeping. That the demons that always woke me before the day could catch me unprepared have quieted in the past few weeks. But some things never change.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”