Page 7 of Emerald Vices

“How is Misha?” I butt in before Andrey can ask.

If Dr. Abdulov is surprised to see me, he shows no indication. “Doing well. The shoulder will heal in time and the concussion will fade in a few days.”

“Concussion?” I repeat anxiously. “But?—”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Andrey interrupts. “Let’s just stick to a quick examination, shall we? As you can see, Natalia is very tired.” The shut-up-and-don’t-give-her-any-more-information in his tone is very much implied.

Abdulov takes the subtle reprimand in stride. “Of course, sir.”

I turn my attention to Andrey. “I want to see him.”

“You’ll be able to see him in the morning when you’re rested.”

“No deal.”

He glowers at me and I glower right back as Dr. Abdulov begins his examination.

“Ms. Boone,” he remarks after a few tense, silent minutes, “it seems everything is okay. Your blood pressure is a little higher than I would like—” He looks between us as though the answer to why is obvious. “—but we’ll monitor it closely and see if we can bring it down over the next few days.” His smile falters even as he tries to brighten his tone. “As for the babies, they are perfectly healthy.”

Andrey is still staring at me with daggers in his eyes when suddenly, his mouth falls open. He turns to the doctor. “What did you say?”

I squeeze my eyes closed, and I am tired. I could go to sleep right now. Maybe I should.

“The babies are healthy,” Dr. Abdulov repeats warily.

The silence stretches. I wait for Andrey to turn his anger on me. Clearly, I knew about the twins and didn’t tell him. How many mistakes can I make in one day before I become unforgivable?

“Thank you, Doctor,” Andrey finally says. “That will be all.”

I crack my eyes open as an immensely relieved Dr. Abdulov gathers up his equipment and retreats.

The moment the door clicks shut, Andrey turns his smoldering gaze on me. “You knew.”

“I found out during my check-up this morning.” Technically, it was yesterday morning. But since I haven’t slept, it feels like we’re still living the same impossibly long day.

“Twins,” he breathes as though he’s trying the word on for size. “And they’re both…?”

“Girls,” I confirm. I struggle upright. “Andrey, I know you’re angry?—”

“Why do you assume I’m angry?” There’s a flicker of impatience in his voice. “I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“Neither one of us was in the right headspace to have any type of serious conversation.” He walks over to the bed and folds back the covers. I’m not going to lie—the gorgeous feather down looks extremely inviting. “And we’re still not. It’s time for you to get some rest.”

I get to my feet. “Not until I see Misha.”

“Jesus Christ, Natalia!” he snarls.

I soften my tone and decide to ask rather than demand. “Please?”

With a tired sigh, he gestures towards the door.

There’s only one light left on in the infirmary. It illuminates Remi, who’s still lying on the examination table. His breathing has evened out since the last time I saw him, though.

I give the loyal dog an affectionate pat before following Andrey to the other end of the room. Misha’s sprawled flat on a single bed, his bandaged arm stiff at his side while the other rests across his face. He looks even younger when he sleeps. I can’t resist the urge to bend down and press a kiss to his exposed cheek.

I can’t see Andrey, but I can sense him at my shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of him for me.”

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