She rises to her feet unsteadily. “What about the pregnant elephant in the room?”
“Let me worry about her.”
I start heading towards the door, but Petra’s voice stops me. “Matvey.”
I turn. “Yeah?”
Her gray gaze is unreadable. “Fatherhood really agrees with you.”
“Why would you say that?”
“You’re smiling.”
I touch my lips. The unfamiliar shape catches me by surprise. Muscles I scarcely ever use are warming up. “That’s your fault,” I tell Petra. “You’ve got a cream cheese beard.”
As I leave my bride-to-be furiously scrubbing at her chin, I keep checking the corners of my lips. Curved. Upturned.
I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.
“A father,” I murmur to myself, stepping back into the elevator. “I’m going to be a father.”
9
APRIL
Crash a mob wedding:check.
Tell the baby daddy he’s going to be a father in front of his bride:check.
Get executed Godfather-style: still working on it.
But, going by the way this guy’s glaring at me, it might happen sooner than I’d like.
I should break the ice, I mull over.I should say something, right? Something smooth. Something nonchalant. Something that will totally make this whole thing go?—
“I’m sorry I ruined your brother’s wedding,” I blurt out.
The guy only glares at me harder.
Great job, April. We’ll make fish food out of you yet.
“You didn’t ruin his wedding.”
I blink. The guy’s voice—Yuri, I recall—comes as a gruff but welcome surprise.He’s giving you a chance, April. Don’t screw this up.
“I mean…” I venture, trying to find the right words for the conversation. “You are still covered in cake.”
Fuck my life. My mouth isn’t big enough to fit all these feet in it.
“I didn’t—” I curse my complete lack of a social filter. If this guy doesn’t shoot me in the next five seconds, then surely it’ll happen in the five seconds after that. “I just?—”
“What you ruined was his business deal,” Yuri explains, his expression cold. “His plans. His dreams.”
I’m gonna die here. I’m gonna?—
“But there was never a true wedding to ruin. Not really.”
—what now?