Twilight Sins: Chapter 63

Morning sickness is a bitch.

Life in general has been a series of bitches lately, but the morning sickness is the bitchiest.

Imagine being in unrequited love with someone, ashamed of yourself for a multitude of reasons, and confused about your future. Then add throwing up once per hour.

That’s called kicking a girl while she’s down, universe. Not cool.

I haul myself to my feet and brush dirt over the pile of vomit I discreetly deposited at the base of an oak tree. I only had a few seconds to decide where to hurl and the oak seemed more durable against stomach acid than the azalea bushes on the other side of the path.

Not that it matters. If things keep going like they have been, I’ll have piles under every plant and bush in the garden.

I thought some fresh air would help my stomach. Yakov’s personal chef, Sanya, has been in the kitchen for the last two days nonstop. Apparently, this is her quarterly deep freeze restock. She’s been simmering rich bone broths, pickling vegetables, and making Georgian dumplings in bulk. At least, that’s the rumor. I haven’t gotten close enough to the kitchen to confirm anything. It’s a vinegary, umami minefield. The moment I step out of my room, I have to run for the toilet.

Being out in the garden helps. Sort of.

If nothing else, being outside might help me keep this secret a little longer. Yakov’s staff would probably start to have questions if I walked around inside with a sick bucket just in case.

Yakov himself wouldn’t have any questions because I haven’t seen him since that night in the kitchen. Aside from our brief, drunken phone call, he’s been a ghost. But I’d like to minimize the amount of people who find out about our baby before he does.

Our baby.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

That’s the first time I’ve thought about it that way. Yakov and I will have a human in common. A flesh and blood person with his blue eyes and my blonde hair and a penchant for old movies and sweet treats and violent criminal homicide.

Okay, hopefully not the last one. I’m not sure homicidal tendencies are genetic.

But maybe the homicide comes with the “nurture” part of the “nature or nurture” territory. I don’t actually know. Growing up Bratva is obviously complicated.

My mind starts to careen towards the millions of things I still don’t know and can’t begin to decide before I blow out a deep breath and shake my head.

Today, I’m going to focus on keeping down at least one meal. Thinking about how Yakov and I are going to raise a child together should be reserved for after Yakov and I are talking again. If we ever talk again.

I walk down the path, out of the trees and into the sunshine. The sun warms my skin and I tip my head back and soak it in. Everything else may be shit, but I can still enjoy a beautiful day, right? That’s not illegal yet. That’s not ruined for me yet.

I take deep breaths, relaxing my body down to my toes. My limbs feel heavy and I think I could fall asleep standing up when someone says, “Your plants are growing.”

I shriek and slip on the stone path.

Hope scrambles to grab my arm and steady me. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I hear a mild heart attack is good for you every now and then.” I press a hand to my pounding chest. “Where did you come from?”

“The house. Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“I guess I was in my own little world.” How long has she been watching me? Did she see me get sick? “What brings you out here?”

“I was making coffee for Mr. Kulikov and wanted to see if you wanted any. You haven’t had any yet this morning. It’s not like you.”

Just the thought of coffee gives me heartburn. But that’s not what catches my attention. “Yakov is here?”

“He got in late last night.” Hope gives me a sad smile. “He went straight to his office and… He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

In other words, he doesn’t want to see you, Luna.

There goes any hope I had that the entire mansion wouldn’t need to learn that Yakov is icing me out. Hope is looking at me like I’m a puppy with a broken leg. It doesn’t help that I feel a bit like a puppy with a broken leg.

“Did you see your plants are growing?” Hope asks again, changing the subject before tears can well in my eyes.

In addition to heartburn and nausea, I also cry at the drop of a hat now. Ah, the magic of pregnancy. The fun truly never ends.

I follow her over to the garden bed Yakov gifted me. I’ve been watering it every day with no sign of growth. But today, there are dozens of tiny green sprouts peeking through the dirt.

“Wow,” I breathe. “That happened overnight. There was nothing there yesterday.”

“It can happen fast. Now, the real fun begins—weeding and fertilizing and trimming. You might need to enlist some help. I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up with it all on your own.”

Hope and my subconscious would be great friends. I’ve been thinking the same thing for days. I can’t do this on my own.

I blink back tears and grin. “Before I freak out about what comes next, I’m going to celebrate this for a second. I actually grew something. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Growing new life is exciting,” Hope says.

New life. When did Hope turn into a scarily accurate fortune cookie?

“‘Terrifying’ is more like it,” I mutter. Then I quickly laugh. “You know, in case I murder all these plants.”

Hope watches me for a second before she looks back to the garden. “Did you know I have seven younger siblings?

“Really? Wow. I had no idea.” There’s a lot I don’t know about Hope. I’ve been here for weeks, but I haven’t really gotten to know her on that level. My stomach churns with guilt. Turns out, I prefer the nausea. “What was that like?”

“Crazy.” She laughs. “I had to help take care of my younger siblings when my mom was pregnant. She had really horrible morning sickness every time. It lasted her entire pregnancy.”

The horror! I’m silently praying that my morning sickness will end by the second trimester when I realize what Hope is doing. All the little hints she’s been dropping. She isn’t a fortune cookie, just too astute for her own good.

I look down at my feet. “That sounds hard.”

“It was. But at least she had me to help her out. I’m sure it would have been worse if she was on her own.”

Tears sting in my eyes. I turn away so she doesn’t see them. “That was nice of you to help.”

“That’s what family does for one another. And friends,” she adds softly. “That’s what friends do for one another, too.”

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Hope grabs my hand.

“How did you figure it out?” I whisper, eyes closed.

“You stopped drinking coffee, your bathroom smelled like vomit when I cleaned it, and…” She pauses before the words rush out of her. “I swear I wasn’t snooping, but I dumped your bathroom trash can and the test fell out. It was hard to miss. I didn’t see the result, but I know what pregnancy tests look like. That with everything else, I just… I knew.”

“I guess I’m no good at keeping secrets.”

“Are you mad?” she asks.

“No. It’s okay. It’s actually nice to have one more person I’m not hiding it from.”

“Mr. Kulikov knows then?”

More guilt tightens the knot in my stomach. “No. Mariya does. She’s the one who realized it was even a possibility. I’d probably still be in denial if she didn’t force the test into my hand.”

“Sounds like Ms. Mariya,” Hope chuckles. “Are you going to tell Yakov soon?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea what I’m going to do. About any of it,” I admit. “Could you please not tell anyone? Especially not Yakov? I need time to figure this out.”

She zips her fingers across her lips. “It’s not my secret to share. I won’t breathe a word.”

I pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Hope.”

“Of course. You’re not in this alone,” she says.

She sounds so confident when she says that. I wish more than anything that I could believe her.