Page 65 of Forced Pregnant Bride

My breath caught in my throat, and I had to force myself to breathe. But to do that, I first had to take my eyes off how perfecthewas and let my gaze drift over to our sleeping boy.

“What are we going to name him?”

Timur sat on the edge of my bed and moved his shoulders, his broad back facing me. “I haven’t thought of it. But I’ve always liked Matvey. When I was younger, my cousin and I faked names at clubs to trip the ladies. Matvey always worked for me.”

I ignored the rest of the statement and focused on the name. “Doesn’t sound bad. What does it mean?”

“Gift from God.”

I blinked. “You believe in the big man upstairs? Shocking.”

He laughed, and the sound thrilled me. “What I believe is that you and that boy right there are good gifts I don’t deserve, no matter how twisted the situation and fucked up our situation is.”

He'd left me utterly speechless, and I struggled to find words. “Um…is there…uh…is there any other name you have in mind? I can’t think of anything else.”

“Vladimir.”

“And that means?”

“Ruler of the world.”

“Interesting. I like that, Vlad. Vladimir. Vladimir Yezhov, my bundle of sunshine.”

“Yes.” He shifted on the bed, scooting closer while peering into my eyes. “But not as interesting as the content of your journal.”

It took me a minute to adjust before being able to interpret the meaning behind his words, and when I did, that lump in my throat returned. If I thought I couldn’t speak before but still managed some words, now he’d successfully rendered me speechless.

While I still tried to come up with a defense, he produced the glittering purple hard-back—I didn’t see where he’d sprung it out from—and waved it in my face. “Klavdia handed this to me. This, and your phone. She said she’d picked them up, thinking you had things of importance written inside in expectation of the baby. So, I went through it. While that was true, about preparing for our baby, I didn’t expect to see my name plastered on almost every page.”

The room suddenly felt smaller, and the oxygen level was dropping rapidly. “I can explain.”

Really? Could Ireallyexplain anything I’d written into that book?

I wasn’t sure I could, but I didn’t want to risk blurting out my feelings and watching him close in and walk away from me. I knew without a doubt that my heart wouldn’t be able to bear it. I couldn’t lose him.

“This gift he gave me, the diamond bracelet. The cool metal against my skin is a stark contrast to the warmth that spreads through my chest every time I think of him.”

He was repeating some of the words from memory, and never before had I felt so exposed.

“It is more than butterflies in my stomach or the racing of my heart when he is near, though those things happen, too. It is deeper, rooted in the way he looks at me like I am moreimportant to him than I think I am, even when he tries to hide it. It is in the way he protects me, fiercely, without hesitation.”

“Timur….”

“You’d make a great writer.”

He handed the book to me, and my tears dropped on the hardback. I could tell that surprised him.

“You’re crying again.”

For real, this time, I was. Maybe it was just the hormones or reasons I was no longer comfortable keeping all bottled inside. “What do you think of me, really? It’s one of the questions I’ve struggled to answer by myself. The only sad part is that I can’t. I can’t answer that question; no one else can but you. Am I just a housewife or a baby-making machine that’ll sit back at home and do nothing while waiting all night for you to return from work? Is that it? Or is there even the slightest chance that there could be something more?”

Silence enveloped us, and he just looked at me.

I knew I’d pushed hard, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. If he never brought up the journal, there would have been no reason to have this conversation.

If I’d never written any of that….

Sighing, I turned away from him, realizing that, in the end,Iwas the problem. Now, I’d made the mistake of spewing the contents of my heart and forced him to retreat into his—

---