Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
The tests sit on the edge of the tub. I can see the little blue marks through the doorway.
All four are positive.
And I’m spiraling into panic mode.
No, I’m hurtling past panic into something worse.
I’m firmly into desperation territory.
“Alisa! I can hear you walking around. Will you just talk to me, please?”
I don’t respond. Even though Orin’s my only friend here, I’m also very aware that he’s Liam’s personal assistant, and ultimately his loyalty is with the Crowley family.
My life is over. When Liam finds out about this baby, he’s going to freak. The guy’s been avoiding me like the plague for weeks now, and when he realizes that he’s stuck with me, that I’ve trapped him into this marriage with a baby, I’m terrified of what he’ll do.
I don’t know who I can turn to for help. I have friends, but I’ve been keeping them at arm’s length for the last month, making up excuse after excuse for why I can’t hang out. I’m already pushing them away, but that’s for their own good. I don’t want to get anyone involved in this mess.
Which leaves me with nothing. I don’t know a single person that’s aware of my situation and who knows Liam and Rustik, or at least is aware of what they can do.
I’m trapped in this house at the mercy of my husband.
At least until I realize there’s one person I can call.
It’s a huge mistake. I know it the second I huddle in the shower with my phone pressed to my ear, getting as far from the door as I can to be sure Orin won’t overhear. If I weren’t so desperate and terrified, I would never, ever make this call, but I don’t see how I have any other choice.
“Hello? Alisa?”
“Papa.” I say the name and feel so small and defenseless, like a little girl again.
“Are you okay?” He sounds relieved. I halfway expected him not to answer. We didn’t exactly leave things in a good place the last time we spoke in that cafe.
“I’m okay. I mean, I think I’m okay. I just—can we meet up and talk?”
He pauses and I hear him let out a long breath. “Yes, of course we can. Where are you?”
“I’m at Liam’s place. I can meet you at the same cafe like last time?”
He grunts his assent. “When?”
“An hour. Can you meet me?”
“I’ll be there. But are you safe? Is he hurting you?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s not like that. Just meet me at the cafe.” I hang up the phone.
This is a mistake. But I pull on my running clothes anyway, still trying to think of someone that could possibly help me. Papa is the only one short of Rustik, and I’d never turn to that psychopath for anything. I don’t care how desperate I feel, Rustik murdered my sister.
I push past Orin as I storm out of the bedroom.
“Well?” he asks, keeping pace, practically fluttering around me like a moth. “What did it say?”
“I’m going for a run.”
“A run? Alisa, are you insane? Liam’s away and you might be—” He snaps his mouth shut when I stare at him. “A run’s a bad idea. What did the tests say?”
“I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”
“Alisa!”
I shove the front door open and hop down the stoop. I halfway expect Orin to chase after me, but instead I sprint off, heading in the opposite direction of where I need to go.
Losing the cars isn’t that hard. They tend to circle around me since they can’t crawl along at my pace. I wait for them to get out of sight before ducking into a shoe store. I wait a while, sprint a few blocks, duck into a stationary store, wait a little while, and repeat that for a half hour. Then I double back, take alleys and side streets, before finally reaching the cafe right on time.
Papa’s sitting up front near the windows this time. He looks skinny and haggard, but more or less healthy as I head inside, feeling like a sweaty mess. He gives me a quick hug, which I don’t feel great about, and ushers me to a seat.
“I was very surprised when you called,” he says. “You sounded like you’re in trouble.”
“That’s not it,” I say, trying to find a way to break the news, but now that I’m sitting across from him in this cafe all over again, I find I can’t make myself speak the words. “I’ve just been thinking about things.”
“About what?” he asks, glancing at the door. He seems nervous. Slightly agitated.
“When you learned that you were going to be a father, how did you feel?”
He looks surprised by the question and sits still for a moment. His face goes distant as he recalls the past, and he shrugs. “It was the happiest day of my life. Your mother and I had been trying for a while, and when Liliya came along—” He stops himself. Papa rarely ever talks about Mama. She died when I was only seven from breast cancer that spread into her lungs. He was a mess after it happened. I have a distinct memory of him sitting on her side of the bed, weeping into her pillow.