Preg-Not

23

As Maksim played with her belly, no amount of tattoos could cover his innocence. He was so simple in his joy that he seemed like a baby himself.

The intimate moment smelled like rain. Cold, refreshing, distracting rain that made you stare at it and reminisce about the past. As she watched Maksim, she remembered why she fell in love with him.

When they were together, he was static to the world– loud, confusing, alarming. But to her, he was a light. He was straightforward, warm and comforting. The world saw glares where she saw pouting, grumpiness where she saw shyness, arrogance where she saw solitude. Once she stopped questioning his differences, they grew on her.

"Maksim..."

"Hmm?"

"I..."

Her hesitation made him look up. "What?" he looked over his shoulder and palmed his holstered gun. "Did I miss something? Did they hurt you?"

"How did you even jump to that conclusion? Of course didn't!"

He pulled his hand from the weapon to reach for her and then frowned at it. He mumbled something about his hand being contaminated and needing to wash his hands to touch the bump. It made no sense to her.

"What is wrong, then?" he sat next to her but kept his hands to himself.

"I need you to understand why I left. I know the letter was convincing. I needed it to be, but Mak, none of that was true. I'm sorry for throwing you overboard just so I could keep on floating."

His hands fisted, but his face gave away nothing.

"I... I... I know you're in the mafia, and I saw you kill Snake."

That got a reaction. He grit his jaw, but she couldn't tell if he was angry at her for seeing what she wasn't supposed to, or at the dead man.

"God, the way his skull smashed..." she covered her face, as if that would protect her from the trauma. "My dad died the same way. Bloody and violently. Because of gangs. I promised I wouldn't go back to that life. I got a criminal record in high school. I didn't want to dishonor him in death, too. I didn't want you to make me, so I wrote the letter and I left. I'm really sorry. Am I rambling? I'm sorry. I'm nervous you'll still be mad, and nervous I'll have another PTSD episode. It happens sometimes, but I'm getting help. I don't like blood. Not after dad. I... I'll stop talking."

"It is alright," he interjected.

His hands remained fisted and his expression blank.

Finally, she popped the question. "Will you take away the baby?"

He paused before delivering, "no."

It was everything she wanted to hear, but it still wasn't enough. There was no confidence in him, no reassurance in his stony expression. It terrified her.

I can't tell him there's two. Not yet. Not until I'm sure he won't take them.

Feeling a surge of emotions, she mumbled something to excuse herself, and went to the bathroom where she breathed heavily to ward off the tears. She wasn't sure how long she was in there, but the sound of clattering made her peek outside.

There were two men in jumpsuits there, moving boxes into the room. They were out as soon as they were in.

"Your belongings," Maksim explained as he propped open a box.

She sighed. "Do I really have to stay here?"

"Choose, Raelynn. Do you want to live in a crime-ridden town, climbing four flights of stairs in a pest-infested building, pregnant with the baby of a man that has plenty of enemies that would love to snatch you off the street?"