His Pretend Baby

by Theodora Taylor

  “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay. Just breathe. Match what I’m doing.” She breathed deep, in and out through her nose. “Match my breath, honey. You can do it.”

  The boy did as she said, his breaths coming out short and too fast. But eventually they slowed and deepened, the panic fading from his expression. Which Back Up took as an invitation to trot forward and begin licking the tears off his face.

  “Back Up!” Pavel exclaimed with a laughing screech. “No, don’t lick me. Now isn’t the time for licking. Tell her, Mama.”

  Sam shook her finger at her overly affectionate bullie. “You heard him. Back off, Back Up.”

  Back Up whimpered, but her words sent Pavel into a fit of giggles, making him look his very young age.

  “Back off, Back Up,” he repeated, appreciating the goofy word play in a way that only a child could.

  She glanced at the hockey player who looked more than a little confused now, like he didn’t quite know what to make of the scene or how to handle it.

  “You name dog Back Up. What sort of name is this?” he asked her.

  Sam shook her head at him, truly disappointed. “You haven’t seen Veronica Mars either?!?! No wonder it got cancelled too soon.”

  More confused looks, then Nikolai’s mouth drew back into an impatient sneer. “Pack his bag,” he snarled at her. “He will come with me.”

  “No!” Pavel cried out. He clung to Sam’s neck. “Tell him he can’t take me from you, Mama!”

  Sam took his hands before he could start panicking again. “Do you trust me?” she asked the little boy.

  “But—” Pavel started.

  “Pavel, it’s a yes or no question,” she said. “Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

  A frown quivered on Pavel’s lips but nonetheless he answered, “Yes.”

  Right answer. She gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Okay, good. Then stand by my side while I talk with your uncle.”

  “Okay,” Pavel said, his voice still watery with tears.

  This time when she stood up to talk to Nikolai Rustanov, she kept her arm around Pavel’s shoulder and she didn’t let the dark scowl on his outrageously handsome face intimidate her. Pavel needed her and there was no way she was going to let him go home with a man who thought it was unmanly for a boy who just lost his father and had come close to being killed just a few minutes ago to cry.

  To his credit, Pavel stayed quiet this time, burying his face in her waist.

  As if to affirm her assessment of him, Nikolai said to Pavel. “Get your face out of her waist, boy. You are too old to hide in woman. I have much to teach you.” He said this with a sneer, like the sooner he got Pavel away from her, the better.

  To Sam’s surprise, Pavel actually did as he said, standing up straight beside her like a soldier.

  The whole situation made her want to cuss Nikolai out for being an insensitive bastard. But instead, she kept her hand on Pavel’s shoulder, letting him know he could lean on her whenever he needed.

  “Tell me more about your house,” she said to Nikolai. “I know about the ridiculous gates, but I’m assuming you’ve got a state-of-the-art security system, too.”

  “Da, I do. And you don’t,” he reminded her.

  She just nodded with approval, refusing to let him bait her into another argument.

  “And would you be willing to invest in a security guard, just until we can get the people who hurt Pavel’s father behind bars?”

  He crooked his head and eyed her like he was trying to decide if she was being over protective or naïve.

  But in the end he said, “Of course, I will hire security guard to keep him safe when I cannot.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said, flashing him a bright and happy smile.

  He did not smile back. In fact, there was a whole lot of suspicion in his eyes when he said, “So you agree? Pavel will come home with me now.”

  “Alright, alright” she said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, like she’d finally decided to give in. “You’ve made a strong case here today. We’ll all move in with you tonight, okay?” She rushed on before he could protest. “But before I start packing I need to know, do you have stuff like dog food and a water bowl at your place, or should I just bring what I have?”

  11

  THE woman in the emerald dress, the one whose name turned out to be Sam, was completely infuriating. Not only had she somehow brainwashed his nephew into calling her mama, she’d also invited herself along with her useless dog to move in with him—right before she insisted on calling the police to file an official report.

  And by the police, she’d meant her boyfriend. The cop who’d wanted her to get rid of Pavel in the first place.

  He’d come running to the scene after the rest of the black and whites arrived, grabbing Sam and gathering her up in his arms. Lovers reunited, Nikolai thought with a dark sneer as he watched them, now standing on her front porch. Her with her hands on his chest, him with his forehead resting against hers as he said something Nikolai couldn’t hear.

  They were a well-matched couple. Him just a few inches taller and attractive in the same way as she. Like the proverbial Latino boy and black girl next door had decided to start going together. He even had a matching set of dimples.

  Nikolai wanted to rip the guy away from her, shove him to the ground, and warn him off going anywhere near her ever again.

  She’s mine. The two words popped unbidden into his head, startling and untrue.

  Startling because he’d never felt possessive of a woman—especially one he hadn’t slept with—before. And untrue, because obviously she was with the cop.

  No wonder she hadn’t taken him up on his balcony invitation. No wonder she’d run away, despite the passionate kiss they’d shared.

  “You should go.”

  Nikolai looked down. Pavel was staring straight ahead at the woman he called ‘mama’ and her cop boyfriend, but he was talking to Nikolai.

  “The detectives asked us all of their questions,” said the little boy who looked almost exactly like Fedya had at that age, despite his kinky hair and much darker skin. “Let Mama take me to your house. Then you can deal with the bad guy.”

  Nikolai nodded in solemn agreement with the little boy. He might look like Fedya, but Pavel had already proven himself to be way more sensible than his addict brother, from the moment Nikolai had pulled up behind Ruth’s House and seen the child running across the lawn like a bat out of hell.

  Contrary to what the social worker seemed to believe, the boy was no delicate flower. After filling him in quickly on what was happening after a brief moment of recognition, Pavel had observed silently while Nikolai dragged a stout Russian in a leather bomber jacket out of the cottage. And the boy hadn’t so much as flinched as he watched Nikolai chokehold the man into unconsciousness before dumping the Russian into the back of his Escalade.

  And now he was calmly giving him advice about dealing with “the bad guy” before he woke up, which made Nikolai wonder how much of the hysterical little boy act had been for Sam and how much of it was true. At that moment, Pavel reminded Nikolai less of Fedya, who’d always been the clingy sort and quick to tears, and more of himself as a young boy, watching Sergei do his dirty work with dead eyes.

  “You should go,” the boy said again, as he watched the cop talk to Sam, a disapproving frown on his face. “Before the bad guy wakes up. Before the cop starts asking more questions.”

  * * *

  “Are you sure about staying with Mount Nik, Sammy?” Marco asked her. All the other police officers had left by then after a set of detectives took their statements, but Marco had stayed behind to talk with Sam in an unofficial capacity—and because he was none too happy about her decision to move in with his favorite hockey player.

  He rubbed her arms and bent his forehead to touch hers. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses about sending Pavel on with his uncle, but I don’t understand why you have to go with them,” he said.


  How shocking, Sam thought. Marco was once again failing to understand how committed she was to Pavel getting the care and counseling he needed in the aftermath of not one, but two terrible events.

  She brought her hands up to his chest to push him away, and reiterate how potentially traumatizing these last few days could be for Pavel if she didn’t intervene. But then she decided to cut him some slack. If Marco hadn’t sent Nikolai to her door, she might be dead now.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said to Marco, resting her hands on his chest as she resisted the urge to put space between them. “And it’s just for a little while, until we get whoever came after us behind bars.”

  A skeptical look came over Marco’s face and to Sam’s relief, he drew back from her. “I’ll bring you down to the station tomorrow to look at some pictures, but I don’t know how far that’s going to get us with both the kid and Rustanov saying they didn’t see the guy’s face clearly.”

  Sam glanced at uncle and nephew, both standing a few feet away with their arms crossed in front of them. Pavel looked like a miniature version of his uncle, even though he was light brown and wearing a neon green anorak, while Nikolai was white and wearing a pea coat.

  Nikolai met her glance with a hard stare, as if waiting for her to finish her conversation with Marco was the most annoying thing that had happened to him all day. Even more annoying than having to chase away some criminal who was trying to hurt her and his nephew.

  His annoyed look made her feel annoyed in turn, yet she couldn’t look away from him. Why did he have to be so damn beautiful? There was something almost magnetic about his face, with all its chiseled angles and its long, sharp nose. Sam was surprised by how hard it was not to stare. Stare at him like he was currently staring at her.

  “You know you don’t have to stay with Mount Nik…” Marco’s words broke the spell Nikolai had somehow cast over her, and Sam broke from the stare to look at the cop she now only considered a friend. He took a deep breath and said, “If you’re worried about having a safe place to stay, you could come back to my apartment for as long as you need. Then you could arrange counseling sessions with Pavel until Mount Nik finds him a permanent therapist. You don’t have to follow the kid.”

  No, she didn’t, and there were plenty of places she could stay outside of Marco’s apartment. A hotel or even at Ruth’s House itself, since it had beds currently going unused. But she wasn’t naive. The system always tried to place children with their blood relatives when they could, and Nikolai Rustanov was a local sports hero. There was no way she’d be able to retain her temporary custody of Pavel. It was either move into Nikolai Rustanov’s place now or risk getting kicked out of Pavel’s life all together, because he was in his uncle’s physical custody.

  She gave Marco a weak half smile and said, “Don’t worry about me staying with Mount Nik, Marco. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can but…” Marco trailed off, and she sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her.

  “What, Marco? If there’s something you want me to know, tell me.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s probably nothing. It’s just that Rustanov’s and the kid’s stories are exactly the same. Like they made them up together. Just maybe, I don’t know… keep your eyes open for anything off, and if you feel like there’s something weird going on, call me.”

  “Sure. Okay, I can do that.”

  Her easy acquiescence to his request seemed to reassure him. He cupped her shoulders and drew her a little closer. “And even if there’s nothing shady going on, call me. Just because you’re living with him doesn’t mean we can’t hang out. And it’s your turn to pay for takeout at my place next time, remember?”

  Sam crooked her head, trying to figure out if Marco was seriously trying to finagle her into a sleepover date she really didn’t want—less than a few hours after she’d nearly been killed by some kind of Russian hit man.

  “Uncle says it’s time to go, Mama!” Pavel called out to her from where he and Nikolai were standing.

  Marco jerked a little, as if just now realizing Pavel was still there.

  “Yeah, uh, you better go, but…” He turned out his pinky and thumb, making the universal sign for phone as he mouthed, “Call me, okay?”

  Sam gave him a tight smile, saying, “Thanks for everything, Marco” before she walked away, unable to believe she’d ever been attracted to the self-absorbed cop, much less thought they’d be a good match.

  She shook her head. Just goes to show how silly she’d been to think she could find a great guy and start a family like Josie had. She was on the brink of moving in with a hockey idol who’d pretty much introduced himself as Mr. One Night Stand. And he—not she—was the true custodian of the boy who’d come to feel like a child to her in an impossibly short time.

  She’d never been farther away from realizing the dream she’d started spinning when she was Pavel’s age, blocking her ears from the sound of her stepfather’s yelling, and promising herself she’d never end up in an abusive relationship. It was as good of a time as any to accept some hard truths. She’d managed not to walk down the same path as her mother, but that didn’t mean she was slated for a happy ending. Vicious thoughts circled like sharks in her head as she walked toward Pavel. Women like Josie got happy endings. Women like her—the memory of her mother lying dead on the living room floor flashed across her mind, curdling her stomach—women like her had to settle for knowing when to get out of a bad relationship while the getting was good.

  12

  SAM had to give herself credit. She didn’t freak out. Not while arranging to stay with Nikolai, not while being questioned by the police, and not while talking to Marco. In fact, she not only got Pavel and herself packed up in record time, but she also called for another, larger pizza from her second favorite pizza joint and stopped to get it on their way to Nikolai’s house.

  “It’s probably a good thing your uncle had to go back to the rink to finish up some work,” she told Pavel after they’d used the code Nikolai had given her to get into his colonial-style mansion. “Not to judge, but he just doesn’t come across like the kind of guy who can appreciate a good pizza.”

  If Pavel sensed the false cheer in her voice he didn’t let on. In fact, he seemed more at home sitting at the tea-stained oak top island in Nikolai’s oversized kitchen than he had in her small cottage. As she ate across from him, she remembered the dirty little boy who had originally snuck into this grand house. Pavel had been showering regularly for the last few days, and she’d escorted him to a barber downtown to cut off the unruly mess on top of his head. So he’d cleaned up and he’d settled in well at her cottage. But that was nothing in comparison to finding out his uncle was his favorite hockey star and moving into his house.

  If she’d been a Hollywood producer, Sam imagined she might turn the story into a Great Expectations reboot. Judging from the way Pavel looked all around him as he ate, this was a dream come true for the boy. Even if his uncle was a total jerk who didn’t believe in love or little boys crying.

  “What kind of food do you think Uncle Nik eats?” Pavel asked her as they hunted through the cabinets for some kind of Ziploc bag to put the remaining pizza in.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Raw eggs, lots of protein, maybe wheat germ.”

  “What’s wheat germ?” Pavel asked, wrinkling his own nose as he checked another one of the lower cabinets.

  Sam laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I don’t want to find out!” Pavel said. “Please don’t let him feed me wheat germ. It sounds disgusting!”

  Pavel had a truly terrified look on his face as he proclaimed this, but his accompanying giggles proved him to be nothing less than thrilled to be living with a possible wheat germ drinker. Anything was better than living with an addict, she guessed.

  Eventually Pavel found some tin foil and they chatted as they packed up the pizza and climbed the steps to th
e large suite at the top of the stairs, one of five bedrooms on the second floor. Pavel’s new room was an homage to lavish taste, with crimson damask walls and heavy ebony wood furniture that looked like it was either antique or had been commissioned to look like it belonged in a home owned by Russian nobility. It was way too much for a boy Pavel’s age. Even Back Up seemed intimidated, sniffing suspiciously at what looked like a hand knotted red-and-gold Aubusson rug as Sam tucked Pavel into the room’s California king-sized bed.

  Yet Pavel seemed perfectly at peace as she smoothed the heavy down comforter over him, like he didn’t have a care in the world, even though a man had come after him with a gun just a few hours earlier.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened today?” she asked, taking a seat at the side of his bed. “If you’re afraid, you can come sleep with me.”

  Her temporary room, Sam suspected, had probably originally been intended for live-in help. It also had damask wallpaper and a comforter she suspected might cost more than most people’s rents. But it was on a much smaller scale since the room was maybe 100 square feet, 200 at most. Just large enough for a full-sized bed, a closet, and an overly intricate chest of drawers.

  However, Pavel just shook his head, like Sam was being silly to think he might be afraid to sleep alone tonight.

  “I’m not scared. Uncle Nik will make sure nobody tries to hurt us again. He said so.”

  Wow. Sam silently whistled inside her head. It must be nice to truly believe your sports heroes are gods. But if believing Uncle Nik was his ultimate protector was what got him through, who was she to argue?

  “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’ll be right across the hallway,” she told him.

  “May Back Up sleep in bed with me, please?” he asked in that overly polite way of his.

  “No, honey, we’ve talked about this. Back Up isn’t exactly going to help you get a good night’s sleep. That’s why we put her doggie bed downstairs.”