Page 89 of Baby for the Bratva

“Can I see her?” I blurt. “Is she alright?”

“She’s doing just fine. She’s going to be very sore for a couple of days, but she’ll most likely be released later this evening with some painkillers.”

I breathe out a sigh so deep and long that it knocks the wind out of me. I can barely keep up with the nurse as she leads me through the door and down a glaring white hallway.

I swallow hard, trying to collect myself before I see Stella. I comb my hair to the side, trying not to look as tired and disheveled as I feel. It’s like going on a date after staying up all night at a party.

I do wish this party was a little less traumatic and a little more fun. Sure, Stella and I had some good moments, but I’d like to show her how much fun we can really have when we get to the United States.

Money goes a long way to creating fond memories when you’re not crammed on a cruise ship for three whole months. Sure, crab dip and tanning are nice, but so is floating down a river in West Virginia before flying out to Vegas and blowing a fortune on the roulette wheel.

There are so many things I want to do with Stella, and not a single one has anything to do with the Bratva.

Perhaps it is time to take a break. Chekhov can manage things while I’m away, and I can finally spend some uninterrupted quality time with Stella.

The nurse leads me into Stella’s room after nearly five minutes of walking down the same long hallway. I comb my hair to the side again, but a loose curl falls across my forehead and won’t go away. I need a cut soon. I’ve neglected to take care of myself and it’s starting to become obvious.

The nurse leaves us alone, closing the door and disappearing. I scratch my thick stubble as I walk over to Stella’s bed, curious if she’s awake. She’s not making any noise. I’m almost afraid to see her, though it hasn’t been more than an hour since I scooped her out of the wreckage.

“Yuri?” her soft voice is like a feather dropping as she realizes I’m in the room with her.

“How’d you know it was me?” I ask with a smile as I come into her view.

Her face is tired and pale, but she doesn’t look unhealthy. She looks to be more in need of a long nap and a strong cup of coffee afterward. Mostly, I’m just struck by how beautiful she is, like I’m seeing her again for the first time.

A smile brings new energy to her face, and she reaches out to touch my hand. “I knew it was you because of your cologne. It smells like paradise.”

I take her hand and laugh with her, trying to hold back tears again. She’s the only person who’s ever made me cry this much. It’s crazy what love can do to you. It’ll break you down until you’re a sobbing mess, but you’ll still beg for more.

I squeeze her hand lightly. “I’m sure I smell more like sweat than anything.”

She shakes her head. “I stand by what I said. You smell like paradise.”

“Thank you, darling. I’m sure I could do better, but I haven’t had the opportunity to shower. They made me sit in the waiting room while they made sure you were okay.”

She sits up in the bed carefully. “I feel good. They said it was just a little bruising. Nothing broken. I don’t even need to be here.”

I place my free hand on her forehead, feeling her cool skin. “I’m sure once the drugs they gave you wear off, you’re not going to feel that way.”

She scoffs. “No, they didn’t give me anything crazy. I’m really fine.”

I admire her determination, but I know she’s going to want some rest once they release her. It’s better that she forgoes any more adventures until we’re back on American soil. From there, we can start planning our future.

But that’s only if she still wants one with me.

“The nurse said they would release you later tonight,” I tell her, petting her silky blonde hair. “Until then, I would try to get some rest.”

“I’m ready to go now,” she says, sitting up a little further.

I can’t help but laugh at her eagerness. “And where do you think you’ll be going, my love?”

She shrugs. “We have a wedding to plan, don’t we?”

A spark of hope lights up in my chest, and I feel warm all over. There’s a movement in my belly, something akin to nervousness, but not quite so negative.

Butterflies. I haven’t felt those in ages.

“You still want to marry me after all this?” I ask, gesturing to the sterile hospital room.

---