by Bethany-Kris
Demyan calmed the moment he could bury his tiny head into his mother’s neck. As was his favorite thing to do when he was overwhelmed, he grasped tightly to the free strands of his mother’s hair and turned silent.
“What about Anton?” Viviana asked, keeping her tone calm for her son’s sake.
“Ivan will be with him as much as he can. Arraignment will be in a day or so. The best we can hope for is a bond.”
“On murder charges,” Viviana said dimly.
With everything that had happened over the last night and day, Viviana didn’t want to see her husband behind bars. They had too much that needed to be said, whether it was from anger, or not. And no matter what, she loved Anton.
Always. Even if it fucking hurt.
“What am I going to do?”
Sasha nodded, sadness coloring up her familiar blue eyes. “Faith, Vine. You have to find it, sweetheart. I know you don’t pray, but you should now.”
Chapter Six
“Did you want me to be there for supper tonight?” Anton asked.
Viviana sighed into the phone as her son ran past the front counter of her bookstore. “Sure,” she replied after a long moment.
“Vine, if you don’t want me there …”
“No,” she rushed to say. “It’s not that, Anton. I’m just tired today is all and not in the mood to argue, all right?”
“All right, baby. Whatever you need.”
The rush of sadness that flooded her veins from the comforting sentiment didn’t help the ache burrowing deep in her chest. It had been two weeks since the arrest that literally turned their world and life upside down. The prosecuting attorney on the case had studiously argued Anton’s flight risk at his arraignment, but Ivan was just as strong in the courtroom.
Without a passport, no real means to leave the country as their bank accounts had been frozen, and Anton’s lack of leaving the state unless he needed to, flight risk was a bit of an exaggeration. As far as they knew.
Luckily, the judge agreed. For an eight-hundred-thousand dollar bond.
Anton was also forced to wear an ankle bracelet, just to keep track of him, apparently.
Any and all interview attempts with Viviana ended horribly. She all out refused to speak about her husband or any of his possible dealings with the officials. She wasn’t required to anyway, being his wife. That didn’t mean they were making it easy on her, though. Beyond that, there were reporters showing up outside their home, at her bookstore, and hell, even when she went to the grocery store. High profile was an understatement. Anton’s upcoming trial was being called the one to watch.
The stress was seriously eating away at Viviana one day at a time.
She was still refusing to allow Anton to come back home, too, and it killed her more and more. Anton insisted repeatedly that even though he couldn’t remember all the events of that night, there was no way he had slept with the woman. Natalie. Just thinking about it made Viviana sick to her stomach.
She loved her husband, but forgiveness was not as easy as it would seem.
“Come to dinner,” Viviana finally said. “We should talk, and we could put Demyan to bed. He’ll like that.”
“Okay. Five good?”
“Perfect, Anton.”
“I’ll see you at five, then, baby.”
“Five,” she agreed.
After hanging up the phone, Viviana rested up on the stool and willed away the heaviness settling in her stomach. Like a dead weight, it had been there for days it seemed. She was so tired, too, but that wasn’t anything new. The slight cramping she seemed to be experiencing was worrisome, also, but because she’d also had a similar issue early in Demyan’s pregnancy, Viviana assumed this was the same thing. It would pass.
At least the morning sickness had yet to begin.
“Ma,” Demyan said, making another round around the counter. “Is Papa coming?”
Just his speed alone made Viviana dizzy.
“Demyan, take a break for a moment, okay?”
Damn it, all of the sudden, Viviana didn’t feel so well. The ache in her back increased. She’d been ignoring it for most of the morning, given the fact that she toted around a two-and-a-half-year-old on her hip for the greater part of her days. Especially when he was feeling clingy.
“Ma?” Demyan asked.
Demyan had come to stand in front of Viviana, looking up at her with his little brow furrowed. When had he gotten so close?
Thirsty, Viviana tried to stand from the stool only to find her vision swimming with colors and her head pounding. Something was wrong. So, so wrong. Dread filled up Viviana’s heart. When she stood, shakily and swaying, the ache turned into a cramp so severe it caused her to double over with a groan. Again, Demyan called her name, but he didn’t sound so close the second time, and his voice was unsure.
While her mouth felt dry and parched, Viviana’s jean covered thighs felt sticky, warm, and wet.
Oh, God.
Reaching for the cell phone she’d tossed to the counter earlier was useless. The light-headedness and spinning vision kept her focus from staying still. The ground felt like it was swaying under her feet.
“Demyan …” Even her voice was faint, the realization of what might be happening to her body and her baby was catching up and slamming down on her like a wrecking ball. “Demyan, call Papa.”
At his young age, Demyan could recite the most important phone numbers he needed to know off by heart. He was also able to dial them, too.
“Ma?”
A wave of pain washed over Viviana from her head to her toes. The force of the feeling had bile rising in her throat and air gasping out of her lungs. Terrified, she clutched at her midsection and shook her head.
Why? What had she done to deserve this?
“Call Papa,” Viviana repeated through clenched teeth. “Now, Demyan!”
She didn’t have to tell him again, though, because he already had.
“Papa, Ma’s got a booboo.”
Not her baby—Anton’s baby.
Another cramping pain stabbed through her womb with killing force. Viviana clasped her hands to the counter like it was a lifeline, and cried.
***
Besides the soft beeps, the room Viviana woke up to was quiet with dimmed lighting and an antiseptic smell. The sheets wrapped tight around her midsection and lower half were scratchy and thin. Nothing like the soft, comforting sheets of her own bed. Immediately, she knew she was in the hospital.
Blinking away the hazy aftereffects of waking up, Viviana smacked the dryness from her mouth. Even though her body was weak and tired, it was also tender and sore all over. When she tried to move her hand to wipe at her eyes, a stinging pain followed the action, making her yelp.
“Viviana … hey, baby. Careful, you’ve got an IV in that hand.”
Anton’s soothing, familiar dark tenor sent Viviana spinning into a fresh round of tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking on every single word. “I’m so sorry, Anton. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no, no,” he chanted. “God, Vine, just no.”
Anton’s concerned features colored Viviana’s vision when she turned her head. Tears spilled further at the pain and sadness etching lines into his strong face. Quiet, hiccupping sobs bubbled up from her chest and fell into the room as everything caught up to her all at once.
She’d done him so wrong, she knew. The baby he’d pleaded with her for over and over again. The one he wanted so badly for them and their son. She lost his child. What use was she to him if she couldn’t even care well enough for his baby to carry it?
What was wrong with her?
Viviana was empty. The heaviness that plagued her all week was gone, but so was something else, too.
“I’m sorry,” Viviana repeated.
She didn’t know what else to say.
“Vine, listen to me. It’s not your fault,” Anton insisted firmly. “It isn’t, baby. Things happen, that’s all.”
“But, I—”
“But nothing. God, I love you so fucking much, you don’t even know. I wish you would have told me something was wrong so you didn’t have to do that alone. And Demyan, he just …” Anton trailed off, sucking in a harsh breath before rubbing a hand over his drawn face. “He’s going to stay with Sasha for a little while.”
“No, I want him with me,” Viviana said.
Especially now, she needed and wanted her son.
“Vine, stop. It’s only for a couple of days, enough to get you settled and then we’ll bring him home. I’ll stay with him at Mom’s, so he will have one of us at least. They’ve got the club on lockdown and there’s no real timeline of when we’ll be permitted to open it up again, so I need a place to sleep, too.”
What? He wasn’t coming home, either?
Before Viviana could ask, the door to her hospital room opened. An older man wearing blue scrubs and holding a chart in his hand gave a small knock on the door before Anton waved him in. He was introduced as the doctor who had been on call when Viviana was brought in through the emergency room, and he simply wanted to check on her before she was granted release.
Viviana felt distant from the man as he talked. Things were explained the best they could be. She’d been dehydrated and anemic. It wasn’t uncommon and usually the anemia wouldn’t be caught until the first round of blood work, but Viviana had been too early for that, yet. One in three pregnancies ended in miscarriage, though most women were so early in the pregnancy that they wouldn’t even realize and instead, mistake it for their period. She’d also just come off birth control, and some studies showed that could possibly cause an early termination, too, while other studies disagreed. There were too many variables to be sure about anything.
As Anton told her, the doctor said the same: things happen. Sometimes the reasons are clear, and sometimes, they’re not. It could have been her body’s way of reacting to the sudden stresses in her life, or maybe it was nature’s way of terminating an unhealthy pregnancy. The anemia and dehydration hadn’t helped, but it certainly wasn’t the only cause.
The dizziness and fainting, however, could have been her mind’s way of reacting to the shock. As if it had been trying to protect her because she was already overwhelmed enough. And while it might have seemed like she bled a great deal, the D&C the hospital preformed to be sure everything was gone …
Viviana didn’t want to hear any more after that.
Nothing, the doctor told her. Over and over.
You did nothing to cause this, sweetheart.
The worst part? Viviana didn’t believe him.
***
“Why won’t you stay?” Viviana dared to ask.
Anton froze at the door of their home, letting the jacket he was putting on slide off his arm. “Excuse me?”
A week earlier, she’d been released from the hospital. Demyan had been home with her for a couple of days, but he was doing well and with him closer, Viviana felt better for a moment. Anton came like he always did, to have breakfast with Demyan, take him with him for most of the day, and then he spent a great deal of the night with him, too.
But, then he left.
He kept leaving. Every fucking time.
The conversations between Anton and Viviana were short, without any real depth. He didn’t push her to talk, he didn’t question her about her day, and beyond their son, he didn’t have much to say, either, it seemed.
Had she done this? Had losing his child pushed him away?
“You keep leaving. Why?”
“I …” Anton struggled for words, his gaze darting from hers to the wall. “You asked me to leave you be, Vine. You asked me to leave, so I did. You wanted time to think. I’m only doing what you wanted from me. If you want something different, you need to tell me that, too.”
“That was before, though.” She couldn’t even say before what. It was already real enough and she didn’t want to confirm it further by repeating it constantly. Their communication skills were seriously lacking lately. “You won’t even come close enough to touch me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Anton. I’m sorry I lost—”
“Stop saying that!” Anton threw his hands up into the air, frustration writing heavy lines over the action. "Stop apologizing for something that was completely out of our control. I keep fucking telling you that it’s not your fault. I never thought it was. Why can’t you hear me when I tell you this? I’m trying to listen for you every day, to speak to you somehow, but you hear nothing from me.
“You want to play the blame game, baby? How about the fact that the morning you told me you were pregnant, you also had to ask me to leave our home. I did that. Or when you needed me, you didn’t feel like you could tell me. Then, we’ve got the arrest, this fucking trial, and everything else that just kept slamming you down over and over. That was all me, Viviana. I did that to you. So no, don’t tell me you’re sorry. But I wish just once, you’d let me apologize to you.”
Tears betrayed Viviana, falling down trembling cheeks to land on her dry lips. The hands she’d hidden from his view by wrapping them into her chest were shaking. The heart that beat only for the man across from her was breaking apart all over again.
Why would he possibly blame himself?
“Anton, you didn’t do anything.”
“Didn’t I?” he asked sharply. “It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you I didn’t touch that girl willingly, you don’t believe me. And what’s fucking worse, I don’t blame you. Because if it were me in your spot, I’d have done the same. Just when I thought maybe we would work it out, I turn around and get myself arrested. What have I done for you, really, Vine?
“Hurt you, baby. Over and over. I’m scared of hurting you, Vine, of pushing you away more than I already have. All I seem to do lately is hurt you, and you’ve hurt enough. You’re my whole world—you and that boy. I breathe for you. My heart beats, and breaks, and bleeds only for you. I can’t keep hurting you, so I let you push me away. It’s easier than watching you struggle to love me.”
“Not for me,” Viviana whispered. “It’s not.”
“You’re so quiet, sometimes. You won’t even look at me, and it’s killing me. All I want to do is hug you, hold you, care for you … anything. I need to and I can’t because you won’t let me. I’m dying here. Tell me what you need from me and I’ll do it. Just fucking tell me.”
Without even thinking about it, Viviana blurted, “I need you here.”
Anton waved his hands at the hall and shrugged. “I’m here. I’ve been here every day, no matter what.”
Viviana nodded because she knew it was true. “I need you closer.”
Three short steps later and Viviana was staring into teary blue eyes. “What else, Vine?”
“I need you to want me, Anton. To talk to me, to touch me, and to be here when I wake up, and when I go to sleep. I don’t want to feel like this is my fault, but I do. I don’t want to think you blame me, but I can’t help it. I need to not be strong right now and for that to be okay with you. I’m so sick of trying not to cry and of being alone. I don’t want to be alone. I need you.”
“I can do that,” Anton murmured. “Anything you want.”
“Come home. Stay with me, please. Love me.”
Because he was the only one who could do that so fiercely, so wholly. Viviana felt lost without Anton.
Viviana didn’t need to say another thing. The coat was forgotten, hung up with the rest. Anton kicked both shoes off and tossed his Mercedes keys into the glass bowl on the stand. Then, he turned back to his wife with an opened palm, waiting. Viviana met his hand instantly, feeling the calming heat of his flesh siphoning into hers.
She let him lead her through their home, up to their room. It had been so long since they had been together, alone, in that space. Without a word, Anton began tugging at the sweater Viviana wore, pulling the heavy fabric off her frame to expose that she wore nothing underneath.
“Anton, we can’t,” Vivi
ana said, remembering the doctor’s orders about waiting until the bleeding had stopped.
Anton shook his head, fingering the hem of the yoga shorts she wore. “Shush, baby. I don’t need that and neither do you. Just … let me hold you, huh? That’s what you need.”
So, she did just that. Anton pulled off his own clothes until he stood in nothing but boxer-briefs. Slowly, like he was making sure she still wanted his touch, he reached out for her hands, weaving their fingers tightly together. Then, he was stepping closer, pulling Viviana into his naked chest until every inch of their exposed skin was touching.
Warm—he was so warm. Like a blanket that covered, hid, and protected every bare nerve she had left. It ached, but it was so good, too.
Viviana listened to the shuddering exhale Anton released as he hugged her tighter.
“I’m sorry, Vine,” he said into her hair.
Strangely, she needed to hear that more than anything else.
***
Anton was never more relieved than when the feds finally took the tape off Seven Lights. They wouldn’t be able to do any Bratva business there for a while, but Anton still felt like he was missing his left hand without his club and office.
“Good to be back,” Ivan noted, kicking his feet up over the arm of the couch.
Anton agreed with a grunt, still surveying the damage the bastards had caused his office. “Where are Boris and Erik today?”
“Laying low. Keeping their noses clean and making sure everyone else is doing the same.”
“Fucking bastards. This whole doorjamb needs to be replaced,” Anton said.
“That’s nothing, Anton. All of this can be fixed quick enough. Sit down and relax for a minute, would you?”
That was the last goddamn thing Anton wanted to do. Even though he was enjoying having his club back to himself, he really just wanted to be home with his wife and son. Viviana was doing better a month after losing their second child in some aspects, and in others, she seemed to be moving backwards.
It felt like a losing battle.
“How’s Vine?” Ivan asked softly.
