Page 54 of Craving Dahlia

Before I can stop myself, I reach out, grabbing Alek’s hand. A wave of emotion that I hadn’t expected washes over me, and to my surprise, he doesn’t pull away. His face is unreadable, but he’s leaning forward, staring at the screen as if he’s never seen anything like it.

“Boy or girl?” he asks the doctor, and she chuckles.

“It’s much too early to know that. But right now everything looks fine. I can’t see any problems, or any need to tell you to change up your usual routine. What do you do for exercise, Dahlia? You’re clearly in very good shape, so I would tell you to keep it up.”

“I run and do Pilates, and I do martial arts classes,” I tell her. “Although I haven’t been in a few weeks. Things have been—hectic.”

“Well, I would ease back on the martial arts. Maybe stick with running, Pilates, yoga, that kind of thing. Contact sports like martial arts can involve injury, and that’s a risk to the baby.”

“No more of that, then,” Alek says firmly, and I look at him sharply, my eyes narrowing.

“I heard the doctor,” I mutter, and he shrugs. There’s that stubborn, possessive look on his face again, and it irritates the hell out of me. But there’s that small part of me, still, that doesn’tcompletelyhate it. That likes the idea of him being worried about me.

“Other than that, you can keep up all your usual activity. Make sure you’re eating well and taking vitamins. I’ll see you back in a month.” The doctor smiles. “It was nice to meet you both.”

Alek nods, grunting his assent, as we get up and head out to book the next appointment with the receptionist. Neither of us say anything until we’re back downstairs and in the car, and I look at him as we slide inside.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I start to say, and he frowns.

“I’m not worried.”

“You looked like you were in there.” I bite my lip, watching him for a long moment. “Why can’t you just talk to me? It’s clear that you were feelingsomethingin the appointment. I’m your wife.”

He snorts, turning away and looking out of the window. His jaw is set, his expression once again impassive, and I can tell that I’m not going to get anything out of him. Frustration wells up in me, and I sink back against the seat, staring at him. It’s like a wall has gone up, and there’s nothing I can do to get past it. It feels almost physical, like a barrier that I could reach out and touch when he gets like this.

The second that the car pulls up in front of the house, he’s out of it, before it’s even fully come to a stop. He stalks up the stairs as I scurry to try to catch up with him, ignoring me when I call out his name. He doesn’t look back even once, as he heads upthe staircase towards the floor where his bedroom is, completely shut off.

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to stamp my foot. Only Alek makes me feel like this, angry and frustrated and like I want to scream out loud. He’s infuriating, all the more so because Iknowthere’s something more there. I know there’s something that’s causing the way he acts, and if he would tell me, I can’t help but think that there’s also some way to work past it.

But I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

Why do I care, anyway? This isn’t forever. And once I can stand on my own two feet, I’ll be gone.

But I think of the way he looked in the doctor’s office today, that expression on his face as he saw the ultrasound, and I wonder if he’s really going to let me go that easily.

—

Alek doesn’t come downfor dinner. I sit at the table next to Evelyn, half answering questions about the appointment and how everything went, wondering if he’s going to appear. By the time we’ve finished the dessert course of a brownie topped with ice cream and cherry syrup, he still hasn’t appeared, and the minute I’m done with my food, I excuse myself and go looking for him.

He’s in the first place I look—the library, standing next to the fireplace, one arm braced on the mantle as he stares down into it.

“It’s a little warm tonight for a fire, isn’t it?” I step inside, closing the door behind me, and Alek doesn’t move. I try not to think about how the last night that we were in the library together went, or how we’re alone together right now.

He doesn’t respond, and my momentary flush of arousal flees as frustration takes its place.

“Justtalkto me, Alek. You’re my husband. You’re the father of my child.”

“So you say,” he mutters, and it takes everything in me not to let out a frustrated scream.

“We’re back to that, now? I thought maybe we were past it.”

He shrugs, and I run a hand through my hair, staring at him.

“We need to talk about all of this, Alek. A man came up to me in a bar, offering me five million dollars to bring you to him. Shouldn’t we talk about that? Don’t you think I should know why something like that would happen? I just?—”

“I just want you to leave well enough alone,zhena,” he growls, shoving away from the fireplace and stalking past me. I try to grab his shirt to stop him, but he shakes me off, his mouth flattening in a hard line. “I’m going out. Leave me alone.”

“Going out where?”

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