Sam shook her head, feeling the usual disappointment when it came to guys and relationships beginning to set in. No, she hadn’t expected a romance novel or anything when she told him the news. But she hadn’t expected him to ask if it was his either or whether she was still against aborting it, which would make his life a whole lot easier, she knew.
The whole situation made her feel dirty. But she stood her ground with him.
“I’m not happy about the circumstances, but I’m happy about being a mother,” she told him through gritted teeth. “And I’m keeping this baby, no matter what.”
She waited, giving him a chance to try to convince her otherwise, but he just stood there, with no expression whatsoever. Like a block of ice. Nope, this wasn’t a romance novel situation at all. She wasn’t that kind of girl and Nikolai wasn’t that kind of man. She’d known that about him from the start, so there was no reason for the piercing hurt now radiating through her body over his total lack of reaction.
Suddenly Sam felt exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted.
“I’m going back to work,” she said, having to put real effort into keeping her voice strong. “Like I said, I’m more than cool with doing this on my own.”
Then she walked away, disappointment in him and the situation and herself dogging her heels. And she wasn’t surprised when this time, he did nothing to stop her from leaving.
20
That day, Nikolai came home from work early. Not because he didn’t have plenty to do. The Polar were due to go out on the road at the end of the week, and though they were nowhere near contention for the Stanley Cup this year, it was imperative that Nikolai observe them on the road and off this season, so he could figure out how to make them great next season.
However, as the Polar’s new owner, he couldn’t just worry about the team, he had to worry about the entire franchise. So he had meetings with not just his coaches and general managers, but also with PR professionals and ad companies.
Maybe he was a Rustanov after all, because he didn’t mind the business aspects of the job as much as he’d thought he would. Nevertheless, not being able to play the game nearly every single day was beginning to take its own kind of toll. No longer could he take his troubles and thoughts down to the rink or take out his aggression on teammates and opposing hockey players. No longer could he “ice out”—playing and playing until all his cares froze away.
Paperwork and meetings just somehow didn’t provide the same release. Nor would he turn to drugs like his brother had. So that only left one thing: sex. In the past, he would have welcomed a road trip and the availability of women who only cared about who he was and didn’t mind letting him use them as stress relief.
But in this case, he couldn’t see himself employing that option on this next trip. First of all, he was the team owner now, no longer a player. And even if he had been in the position to pick up groupies, the thought of sleeping with one made him feel dead inside, even more numb than killing those Russians.
It was hard for him to admit this to himself, especially after what he’d seen on the porch of Ruth’s House, but he didn’t want any other woman. Not like he wanted Samantha.
And now she was pregnant. With his child. Unhappily so, he’d reminded himself the following day. Then he’d had to keep on reminding himself, over and over again, during the morning practice and the meetings he took that afternoon. But those harsh reminders hadn’t been enough to stop him from telling Isaac to cancel the rest of his meetings at five and leaving early for home.
He cursed himself all the way to the house. It was like the compulsion he kept having to check on Pavel every night before he went to bed, even though he knew the boy was fine, knew the threat of the Russians had been eliminated. Knowing Sam was pregnant with his baby made him want to be close to her. Physically close. And as foolish as he felt about the whole thing, he kept his foot firmly on the gas pedal, driving faster than he should to get to her.
When he arrived home, he followed the sounds of laughter to the kitchen, and what he found there stopped his heart.
Samantha sitting next to Pavel at the island counter. Their heads both bent over a textbook, Samantha’s arm resting across Pavel’s shoulders. They looked like… a mother and son. A real mother and son. The easy way they laughed together, not even a total stranger happening upon them would have doubted how close they were or known they weren’t family in every sense of the word.
Nikolai was not prepared for the ache of longing that hit him upon seeing Samantha like this. An ache followed by a piercing wish for her to stand up and come around the island to greet him. Like a wife. Like someone who was happy he was home.
And in that moment, he regretted, truly regretted what he’d said to her when he visited Ruth’s House the day before. Da, he’d had every right to ask the question, especially after the scene he’d witnessed between her and Marco. He’d still been angry about that when she told him the news, his mind reeling with the revelation that she hadn’t broken up with the cop. And he hadn’t been able to get past it. The sight of them together. The idea of Samantha letting the cop touch her. Maybe more.
At the time, he’d felt completely justified in lashing out. Had, in fact, been aiming to hurt her with his accusation.
But now, he felt like an idiot. Seeing her like this with Pavel, all he wanted was for her to be same way with him. A memory of Alexei’s parents came to him then. The way they would sometimes kiss, soft on the lips, if Alexei’s father had been away for a long time. The way his aunt’s eyes had glowed with tenderness when she looked across the room at his uncle.
He wanted Samantha to look at him that way.
He did not get his wish. Back Up came trotting over to get petted, alerting the boy and Samantha to Nikolai’s presence in the doorway. Upon seeing him there, Samantha’s smile went away, as if a dark storm cloud had suddenly rolled in on her perfect picnic with Pavel.
Pavel immediately stopped laughing, too. But at least he said, “Hi, Uncle. You’re home early.”
Pavel’s tone was pleased and Nikolai wished it wasn’t so hard for him to look directly at the boy. But he couldn’t make himself do that often. Even with the much darker skin and the hair texture difference, his nephew looked too much like Fedya at that age. For Nikolai, it was like looking directly into a sun made of memories. Impossible to do without feeling like your eyes were burning.
So instead of looking at Pavel, he bent down and patted Back Up, who immediately flipped over on her back. Samantha’s dog was the worst kind of manipulator, he was discovering. Give her even the smallest of strokes and she took you for a belly rub.