Page 24 of Toxic Salvation
Osip grins. “Game on it is then.”
By the time we finish discussing strategy, it’s well past Luka’s bedtime.
There was a time when I couldn’t schedule anything between seven and eight because I was busy with his nighttime routine. These days, I’m lucky if he lets me in his room at all. Two weeks ago, he taped a hand-drawn sign to his door that read:DO NOT ENTER. THAT MEANS YOU, UNCLE KOVAN.Below it, he added a chalk drawing of what I assume is meant to be a monster baring its teeth.
I’ve been too afraid to ask if I’m supposed to be the monster.
The sign is still there when I reach his door, but I notice light spilling from underneath. I push the door open to find Vesper lying on the bed beside Luka, reading him a story in a whisper.
I slip inside, staying in the shadows near the doorway. Luka is fast asleep, but she continues reading anyway, holding the book with one hand while the other rests on her gently sloped stomach.
The sight stops me in my tracks.
In six months, there will be a baby. My baby. The idea is so foreign I can barely wrap my mind around it. I never wanted children. Watching what happened to Vitalii convinced me that family made you weak, made you vulnerable.
But looking at Vesper now, gentle and protective even in her sleep-deprived state, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong about some things.
She finishes the story and closes the book, reaching back toward the nightstand. Luka is tucked against her side, making it impossible for her to set it down without disturbing him.
I step forward and take the book from her hands. She startles, looking up at me with surprise. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear the happy ending.”
“Enjoy it while you can.” She carefully extracts her arm from beneath Luka’s head and replaces it with a pillow. “They only exist in fairytales.”
I move around to the other side of the bed so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to look at me. “When did you become such a pessimist?”
“Around the time I met you.” She flushes immediately. “Sorry. That was unfair.”
“You’re dealing with a lot. I get it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
She adjusts Luka’s blanket. Every movement shows me exactly what kind of mother she’ll be: protective, patient, devoted. If I have to have a child, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have raise him.
“Did you know your father? I mean, really know what kind of man he was?”
I think about that for a moment. “He wasn’t a bad father,” I say slowly. “But I’ve learned that being a good father and being a good person aren’t the same thing. He took care of us. Taught useverything we needed to survive. But he was also ruthless when it served his purposes. A good father, maybe. A good man?” I shake my head. “That’s debatable.”
Her gaze goes distant while I’m speaking, like she’s somewhere else entirely. When I finish, she blinks back to the present, though her eyes remain glassy.
“When Waylen first told Mom about you, I thought she’d disapprove. I expected her to try to talk me out of our relationship. But she was understanding. Almost like she knew what it meant to love someone who wasn’t…”
“A good man?”
She flinches, her hand moving to her stomach again. “I think she knew. About Dad, I mean. What he was involved in.”
“But she loved him anyway.”
“Does that make it right?”
“Maybe not. But love doesn’t always follow moral guidelines.”
She climbs to her feet slowly, exhaustion written in every line of her body. “Thank you for answering my question. Goodnight, Kovan.”
She moves toward the door, and I know I should let her go. Should let her walk away and deal with whatever’s happening between us in the morning when we’re both thinking clearly.
