Chapter 17
BOGDAN
Ican't stop smiling.
Tessa watches my mouth before she looks into my eyes, and the grip on my hand eases.
Only then do I understand how hard she's been holding on.
There are dried tear tracks beside her nose.
I want to wipe them away, but my fingers hesitate against her cheek because everything I do seems to matter more than it did a moment ago.
“You're pleased,” she says.
“Very. Come here.”
She steps into my arms with a small sound that turns into laughter against my shirt. I hold her so close that the buttons of her dress press through the fabric. Her hair brushes my mouth when I lower my face to hers, and I kiss the damp place beside her eye before finding her lips.
Salt touches my tongue. I think of her carrying this news through the city while I sat over freight accounts. I want the whole journey back so I can be beside her for it.
Then her arms tighten around my neck, and I have her here.
A child. The thought comes with such force that I have to take a breath against her hair. I've pictured her staying for breakfast, leaving a dress upstairs, coming home to me when she's tired of making other people beautiful. Those wants seemed large while I kept them to myself.
Now there's somebody else to imagine.
“How long have you known?” I ask.
“Just this evening. Peggy was with me.” She draws back to look at me. “I've got the test in my bag, if you want to see it.”
“I do.”
She opens the bag on the table and takes out the little box. I stand beside her while she lifts the test from it, holding it so I can read the display.
Tessa lets me take it.
My thumb rests along the plastic edge, carefully clear of the screen.
I've held papers at this table that changed what men could earn, where they could work, whether they would be able to come back to me.
I turn this little test toward the lamp and want to keep it somewhere nobody will clear it away.
“Are you happy?” I ask her.
She nods, then laughs again, wiping beneath her eye with a fingertip. “I'm getting there. I was sick over Peggy's dinner, so she's going to mention that for the rest of my life.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Some toast. Please don't order a feast. Even the thought of garlic makes me want to die.”
I put the test back in its box and close the lid. Then I sit in the chair beside her, drawing her between my knees. She rests her hands on my shoulders. From here I can look up at her without making her tip her head back to find my face.
The burgundy dress is soft beneath my hands. I keep them at her waist, where I've touched her before, trying to understand that I can hold her in exactly the same place and have so much more to lose.
“Stay with me,” I say. “I want you here when I wake up. Bring your clothes. Bring the things you leave all over your worktable.”
Her fingers move against my collar. “You've seen my worktable.”
“I've been considering the risk.”
She smiles, but there's still a crease between her brows. I wait while she runs her thumb over a shirt button.
“I don't want you to ask because you feel you have to.”
“I wanted you to leave your boots under my bench on Friday. I wanted your crown to stay among my cuff links. I was trying to think of another reason to bring you back before you'd even gone downstairs.”
She looks toward the ceiling, where the dressing room is above us. The crown is still there. I haven't let anyone move it.
“You could've asked,” she says.
“I'm asking now.”
Her hands slide to the back of my neck, and she bends to kiss me. I let her take her time. The hard edge of the chair presses against my legs, but I don't move until she lifts her mouth from mine.
“Yes,” she says. “I want to stay.”
I pull her onto my lap. She settles sideways, laughing as she catches the arm of the chair, then rests her head beneath my chin. Her weight changes the way I sit in a room I've used for years. I can't reach my folder without disturbing her. It can stay closed.
For a while I hold her and let the pleasure catch up with me.
I've filled this house with people who know how I want it kept.
They bring meals without needing to ask where I intend to eat.
My shirts return to the same shelves. When I leave a room, someone makes it ready for my return.
Tessa has left a crown where I put my cuff links.
I want to come upstairs and find something of hers in my way every night.
She shifts to reach her bag, then stops with her hand against my wrist.
“Peggy's waiting for me to call.”
I lift the bag from the table. Tessa takes out her phone, still on my lap, and calls her. The speaker stays off, so I hear only Tessa's side of it.
“He smiled. Yes, immediately.” She looks up at me. “I'm staying here. Could you pack a bag for tonight? My washbag, some clothes. I'll come for the rest.”
Peggy's answer makes her laugh.
“Bring the necklace too. It's on my dresser. I'll send Matvei back for you.”
She thanks her more softly before ending the call. I send Matvei back with a car. Peggy's escort will stay with her for the trip to her own flat after the bag is dropped here. Tessa leaves her phone on top of her handbag.
The boxed test goes inside the bag. Nobody else needs to find our news on a library table.
I call the kitchen for plain soup and bread, then take Tessa into the dining room while it's prepared.
The candles from Friday have been replaced.
Miniature pumpkins still fill the bowl beside the window, pale orange against its dark glaze.
She brings one to the table as I pull out a chair, putting her handbag on the floor beside her.
“Peggy will tell the pumpkins before she tells anyone else,” she says. “I've sworn her to secrecy.”
I smile and pour her water from the carafe on the sideboard. The glass gives a small click against the table when I set it down. My hand has been steady through everything except this ordinary attempt to look after her.
“We'll keep it to ourselves,” I tell her.
She takes a drink, watching me over the rim. I want to know what she's thinking about the baby, what she hopes it will look like, whether there's a name she already loves. Each question seems to presume a whole life before she's finished this evening. I sit beside her instead of across the table.
A knock comes at the open doorway.
Klim stands in the hall with his phone in his hand. He looks at Tessa, then at me. I recognize the pause. He has something he would usually bring into the library with the door shut.
“Here,” I tell him.
Tessa sets down her glass. Klim steps inside without closing the door.
“Devon called. A man he used to arrange Luka's loads with asked where Tessa spends the night. Whether your driver takes her home after you see her.”
Her fingers leave the stem of the pumpkin.
I keep my hand on the back of her chair while Klim shows me the message Devon forwarded.
It names the woman in the farm video, asks about her address and offers money for an answer.
Devon's reply sends the man away. The exchange is still open on Klim's screen, ugly and casual in the bright little rectangle.
Luka paid the freight loss two days ago. His money is back in our accounts, his escorted visit fixed for Saturday. Now one of his men is asking where Tessa sleeps.
I picture the stairs to her flat, the turns Matvei has to check before she can get inside. She came down them tonight with our child already beginning its life, and a man I've agreed to hear is trying to learn when she's alone.
“Send the exchange to Alison,” I say. “Put another car with the women when they're working. Keep the escort at Peggy's flat after she gets home. Tessa stays here.”
Klim nods. He doesn't ask why. He's been protecting her since before I could put a name to what I wanted from her.
“The shop and both clubs get the warning,” I continue. “No one gives out their movements. If Luka's people ask again, I want the request kept.”
Tessa turns toward Klim. “Peggy's at my flat now. Matvei's going back to collect her and a bag for me.”
“I'll speak to him.”
Klim leaves to make the calls. I watch until he's past the library door, then turn back to Tessa as she draws her chair nearer mine.
I cover her hand on the table. The impulse to get her upstairs, close the door and give her a version of the evening with no mention of Luka is almost painful.
She heard the report. I made sure she did.
Still, I wish I could've kept that man's curiosity out of the first hour of knowing I'm going to be a father.
“Does Luka know?” she asks.
“About the baby? There's no reason to think so. Devon's message is about the video and where you go afterward.”
She looks at the pumpkin beside her glass. “I was going to stay before Klim came in.”
“I know.”
I bring her hand to my mouth. She lets her shoulder rest against mine, and I kiss her fingers once before reaching for my phone. Klim's confirmation arrives while I type to Matvei. The additional car is being assigned. Peggy's escort has been told to remain with her.
Those are things I can put in place tonight. I do them, then put the phone away before Tessa has to ask for my attention back.
I collect the supper tray from the kitchen and set it between our places. The soup smells faintly of carrots. She tries a spoonful while I break a warm roll, waiting to see whether she'll push the bowl away.
She takes another. Only then do I taste the bread, its crust flaking against my thumb, butter melting into the soft middle.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much.” She glances at my bowl. “You can eat something with actual flavor.”
“Tomorrow.”
Her smile returns over the next spoonful. I don't think I've ever paid this much attention to somebody eating soup.
When she's finished, she finds Beacon Hill Women's Care on her phone.
I move the dishes aside while she calls the after-hours booking line, giving her details in a quieter voice.
The call is brief. An intake conversation is arranged for the morning, with the first scan booked for October twenty-fourth.
The confirmation arrives on her screen before she puts the phone down.
She shows me the date.
I open my calendar and clear that morning. There's a freight meeting in the space she needs. I send Kirill the changed time without an explanation, then close the calendar while she watches.
“You're coming?”
“Yes.”
She keeps her phone in her hand for another moment, looking at the appointment. I can see the little smile she tries to contain. We have a date to put beside this one, something to wait for that belongs to us.
Nearly an hour after Tessa's call, Matvei brings her overnight bag to the entrance hall.
Peggy has packed it and stayed in the waiting car with her escort.
Tessa phones her before I take the bag upstairs, promising to call again tomorrow.
Through the open front door I see Matvei speak to the other guard.
He stays on the steps as the car takes Peggy home.
Tessa comes upstairs beside me with her handbag. I take her into my bedroom through the passage beyond the dressing room. The bedside lamps are on, lighting the turned-back cover and the tall windows behind closed curtains. She stops just inside, looking at the space on either side of the bed.
I put her overnight bag on the bench in the dressing room. Her crown is still beside my cuff links, with the black metal roses facing the mirror. When she sees it, her mouth curves.
“You really left it there.”
“It belongs there.”
She opens the bag. Peggy has packed a folded nightshirt at the top and tucked the necklace case beside it. Tessa puts the case on the dressing table, then carries her washbag and nightshirt into the adjoining bathroom. I take her coat from downstairs and hang it in the wardrobe while she changes.
When she comes back, she's carrying the burgundy dress over one arm. I give her a hanger and make space for it beside my shirts. She smooths the skirt once after she hangs it, with the same care she gave the gown on Friday.
The ordinary movement makes me want to hold her again.
In the bedroom, she takes the test from her handbag and looks around for somewhere to put it. I move my watch away from the lamp. She lays the small box beside it, leaving the lid open, then turns toward me as I unbutton my shirt.
I draw her close and kiss her forehead. Her arms settle around my waist beneath my open shirt. For a moment we stand there with the bed waiting and the rest of the house below us.
“I keep looking at it,” she whispers.
“So do I.”
She lifts her face for another kiss, then lets me pull back the cover. I change for bed while she gets in. When I join her, she rests her head on my shoulder and draws my hand to her stomach. Through the soft cotton, I feel her breathing.
I hold my palm there while she settles against me. The lamp lights the open box beside my watch, the space I've made for the first thing that belongs to our child.