Page 27 of Sinful Bride

“I get that part. I just…” I sigh. “I guess I wasn’t expecting so much help. Definitely not from my parents.”

Fuck. My voice just cracked with emotions I don’t have the energy to feel.

“I know. And…” She hesitates. We both glance up to see Pasha making his way over to us, followed by his sister, who is gushing with pride at her baby niece asleep in her arms. Asya’s smile tightens in the corners as she watches them. “I know what it’s like to not get any help. It’s painful. It’s lonely.”

“Your parents weren’t around?”

She sighs. “Kostya—my husband—took me far, far away from everyone and everything I ever knew and loved. My parents were back in Russia, and his were too busy traveling to make time for me. Kostya… he did not want anything to do with babies. ‘Women’s work,’ he called it.”

“That’s so strange. I mean, considering how amazingly helpful Pasha’s been.”

His own smile is tight, more for show for his mother than what he’s actually feeling. He walked in right when Asya mentioned his father, and that made him tense up. I don’t know much—or really, anything, about the man—but I’ll hazard a guess that he wasn’t a great guy.

Asya bitterly scoffs. “Like I said, Kostya didn’t want anything to do with me or my babies when each of them were born. He swore up and down that Pasha wasn’t even his. It was several years before he let that tirade go.”

There’s a sadness in Asya’s eyes as she talks about her past. I don’t know all the details, and something tells me I really don’t want to know and shouldn’t pry.

“I’m so grateful you’re here, really,” I say instead. “I just don’t want to be a burden. You have your own life, and I don’t want to take away from that.”

“You’re never a burden, malyshka. You need to take care of yourself, and we’re here to give you the time to do so.”

I don’t know if it’s because I’m so sleep-deprived, or hormonal, or just plain emotional, but all this is becoming overwhelming for me. Their kindness is more than I’ve ever received from family, save for maybe Melanie. But even she couldn’t drop everything to care for my every need—and why would she?

This isn’t about Melanie. This is you not knowing what it’s like to have a real mother.

You don’t know what it’s like to be loved by a real mother.

“Would you mind? If I…” I gesture to the bedroom, unable and unwilling to force any more words through the lump lodging itself in my throat.

“Want a bath?” Pasha asks me, his hand on the small of my back as he helps me up and into the bedroom. “I’ll draw one for you.”

“I can manage.”

“Come.” He nudges me into the bathroom, then shuts the door. “You deserve a hot bath before a long nap.”

“No, I totally agree.” I yawn. “I’m just saying, I can do it myself.”

“I know.” He completely ignores me and turns the bath faucet on. It’s a jetted tub, too. God, I need that.

But then I suddenly remember—I’m a mother, now. I have a baby to care for. I have a baby I need to protect. “I can’t! I can’t, I gotta—I need to—Taty needs me!” I spin on my heels and rush for the door.

Pasha blocks me at the last second. “Taty’s fine. She’s with her aunt and uncle and grandmother. There are also three men at the front door and half a dozen more downstairs. She is safe, Daphne. She is okay.”

I guess he has a point. I just… “I don’t want her to feel abandoned. Or neglected.”

“You can’t care for her if you don’t care for yourself, Daphne. Now, enough arguing. Let’s get this off you.”

He starts to tease up the hem of my shirt, but I grab his wrist to stop him.

“I can do it. You can go.”

“Daphne.” His voice is much closer to my ear now. His breath is warm as it fans over my neck. He pries my fingers off my sleep shirt and holds my hands in his, half-holding me from behind. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

“But I’m…” Ugly. Fat. Flabby. Covered in stretch marks.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m not attracted to you anymore. That one look at you is going to scare me off.” He eases my shirt back up and presses his hand over my stomach. “You gave birth to my child. Our child. That’s incredible.”

Why does this man make me cry so much? I blink back the tears as best as I can and pray he doesn’t see them.

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