Page 33 of 10 Days to Surrender

“As he should be. No rest for the wicked.”

She eyes me, amused. “That’s funny, coming from someone else who’s still awake way pastherown bedtime.”

Rolling my eyes, I shove a pillow in her face and turn onto my side. I can still feel her watching me, though. “He’s literally just walking around in circles, as if a rogue goat is gonna come terrorize the villa,” I grumble. “Who does that?”

“Someone who can’t sleep because he’s worried about the mother of his children?”

I shoot her a glare. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying?—”

“Well, don’t.” I shift, trying to find a comfortable position and failing miserably. “He made his choices. I made mine. End of story.”

Jasmine combs my loose hair back from my face and starts to braid it. “Is it, though? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re both miserable.”

“Good. He should be miserable.”

But even as I say it, the image of his bandaged torso flashes through my mind. The way his hands trembled when he touched me. The darkness in his eyes when I mentioned the babies.

“And you? What should you be?”

“If you’re gonna say ‘happy he’s back in my life,’ don’t bother. And if you’re gonna say ‘what if he’s changed,’ thendefinitelydon’t bother. People don’t change.”

“Bullshit.” She pauses for a moment. “You did.”

I open my mouth. Close it. Sasha disappears around the corner of the villa.

Grimacing, I press my palms against my eyes until I see stars. “Stop being reasonable. I need you to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side, Ari. Always.” Jasmine presses her palm over mine on my belly. “Little Makris-Ozerovs. Christ, they’re going to be hellions.”

“Don’t call them that.”

“Which part? The Makris or the Ozerov?”

“Either. Both.” I stare at the cracked plaster wall. “They’re… Wards. Just Wards.”

Outside, an owl hoots mournfully. It’s funny how nights can sound so different from place to place. New York was buzzing neon liveliness; Moliets-et-Maa was the quiet shush of waves rasping on the shore. I’ll have to learn the sounds out here. I have ten long weeks to do it.

“He asked about their names tonight,” I whisper.

“And?”

“I told him I was waiting for a sign they wouldn’t be like him.” I laugh, but it comes out more like a sob. “God, the look on his face, Jas. I might as well have stabbed him.”

She shifts closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You’re allowed to be angry, Ari. But you’re also allowed to forgive. To heal. To try again.”

“What if I can’t? What if I let him in and he…” I trail off, unable to voice my deepest fear.

“Becomes like our dad? Like his own?” Jasmine finishes for me. When I nod, she sighs. “That’s the risk we take with love. But Sasha’s not Leander. He’s not Yakov. He’s just a man trying to protect what matters to him, even if he’s doing it badly sometimes.”

Tying off the braid, she lets her hands fall to rest on my belly. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

“There’s nothing left to decide,” I remind her acidly. “Ten weeks and we’re gone.”

“Sure.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Ten weeks.”

We lie back down. She starts humming an old Greek lullaby our mother used to sing, one about the moon marrying the sun. I’m scared of what I might dream about if I let myself fade off. But as I settle into a comfortable position and Jas keeps singing, I slowly feel sleep start to creep over me like a warm blanket.

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