Page 36 of Wrong Number. Right Don.
I sit there long after he’s gone, turning his words over and over. I’ve always believed there’s no room for softness in my world, that opening up to anyone is a fatal mistake. I assumed love was a weakness men like me couldn’t afford, despite the proof of my parents’ marriage. For the first time in my life, I’m starting to question that belief.
What if she’s not a weakness? What if she’s the one thing that makes all of this worth it? Which isn’t to say I’m ready to take that step with her. We have a good rapport and explosive chemistry, but I’m nowhere near dropping to one knee. I justwant time to find out whether there’s more here than blistering chemistry.
But the lingering thought remains. Once I tell her who I am, once I show her the darker side of my world, I risk losing her. I’ll keep her close for as long as I can, even if that means I can’t have her in every way I crave.
14
NICOLE
After a week in Sergei’s home, I’m slowly finding a rhythm. It feels more like a luxurious, all-expenses-paid vacation than a job. Liliya is the easiest patient I’ve ever had, and caring for her is a cinch. Compared with my hospital shifts, this feels like nothing. Strangely, I don’t miss the hospital’s hustle at all.
Every day, I’m treated to three incredible meals that beat the hell out of the hospital cafeteria and the frozen meals I usually keep stocked for the nights I’m just too tired to cook. Plus, the chef tailors dishes that keep my nausea at bay. I haven’t told him I’m pregnant, making the excuse that I struggle with brutal heartburn instead. Yet he still manages to craft dishes that are both decadent and gentle on my stomach.
It’s surreal to bask in this kind of luxury when, barely a week ago, I was budgeting for groceries and dreading the next rent hike. I already know I’ll miss this job once Liliya fully recovers and no longer needs me.
And then there’s the money. Sergei’s first payment was so generous I could bankroll my parents’ new roof outright. Mom cried and insisted it was too much. I reminded her that they putme through nursing school, and I’d have no career without their sacrifices, cueing another wave of tears.
I still haven’t told them about my new job, though. It would trigger a barrage of questions I’m nowhere near ready to answer. All in all, it’s just easier to make them believe that I’ve saved that money myself.
Really, the only complicated part of my job is Sergei. Everything feels simple, until I start thinking about him. Unfortunately, I find myself thinking about him all the time.
Since our dinner last week, he’s been impossibly busy. He’s forever in meetings, on calls, or disappearing for hours with Sasha. I’m starting to understand why I never heard from him after our first date. He’s the busiest man I’ve ever met.
We’ve only shared brief conversations, stolen moments in the halls or in passing, and never long enough to satisfy my need for him. Yet, no matter how fleeting the moment, the chemistry between us simmers, ready to explode.
Whenever he steps into a room, I feel him before I see him. It’s as if the room is vacuum-sealed, and he’s the only source of oxygen. At night, after his final check-in with his mother, he always stops by my door. It’s just a knock on the doorframe and a quiet, “Everything good?” before he disappears again.
Each time, I nod and lie through my teeth—because nothing about this is good. The longer I’m here, the more desperate I am to tell him about the baby. I’m still in the first trimester, but soon I’ll start showing. Even if he doesn’t notice, others might. I refuse to let anyone else tell him before I do.
It’s absurdly complicated. Even so, I don’t regret coming here. It’s healing, a break I’ve needed for months. Even before I waspregnant, I was starting to feel burnt out from my job. This has become a needed retreat—a glimpse into how I could pursue my nursing dreams through private care even though I’d told Sergei I’d be bored doing that. I’m starting to rethink things. Plus, the hours would be much better for my baby.
I glance at the phone on the dresser. No new messages from Sergei, not that I expected any. Since I moved in, he’s sent nothing beyond a cursory check-in. I’d love a random text during the day to have proof I cross his mind even when he can’t see me. Maybe that’s a selfish thought, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s feeling.
At dinner the other night, the spark between us was undeniable. If Sasha hadn’t interrupted, who knows what would have happened between us? The evening had felt poised to turn romantic, making his current silence and professional distance that much harder to swallow.
If he wanted me—hell, if he thought of me romantically at all—wouldn’t he let me know? Maybe that’s another piece of his puzzle I have to solve, another secret to unravel.
I need to get out of this room and out of my head. I shrug into a cardigan and step into the hall, determined to check on Liliya. She has been so kind to me since the moment I moved in. She’s always so grateful for my help, even when I’m not doing anything more than encouraging her.
Plus, she’s as sharp as a tack. Certainly sharper than most of the patients I’ve dealt with at the hospital. She’s recovering steadily; while her body lags, her mind hasn’t lost a step. She’s always cracking jokes, especially at the expense of her sons.
“I’m probably going to die without ever having grandchildren,” she told me one day. “Sergei is far too serious about work for them, and Sasha is the exact opposite. He doesn’t take life seriously enough.”
I only hum, not wanting to hint that I’m carrying her first grandchild. That would be one hell of an awkward conversation.
Another time, she asked me, “Are all men this age as dense as my boys? Or am I just cursed?”
“Trust me, it’s all men,” I say, laughing.
“Is that why someone as pretty as you is still single?” she asked out of nowhere. “In my day, a girl as stunning and accomplished as you would be snatched up.”
“And I’d probably never have to work a day in my life.” I sighed wistfully. “But then I wouldn’t get to take care of you.”
“That’s true,” she conceded. “Your singleness is very much to my advantage.”
Liliya and I get along well, and that’s made the job all the better. I go make sure she’s comfortable and has her tea. She’s tired today, and tells me she just wants to rest this morning.
“That’s fine, Liliya,” I tell her. “But that means we’re really going to have to whip you into shape in this afternoon’s physical therapy session.”
