Page 27 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

I can see why people love him. How he fools them.

I won’t let it last for much longer.

7

OLIVIA

I wake up to a text from Mia.Breakfast in Mom’s suite. Be there! xo

I collapse back into my sheets with a groan. I’d rather just stay in bed. It’s strange to feel that way about Mia and Mom. Never in my life have I bemoaned spending time with them, especially not after Dad passed and it hit me just how precious every second is.

Eventually, that guilt forces me up.

We’re family, I repeat to myself over and over again. This is a weird period for all of us. Avoiding them is not going to fix anything.

Mia left me some of her clothes to borrow since mine are still back at Aleks’s house. I decide on a white sundress. My stomach is still perfectly flat, but I see my pregnancy in the luscious layers of my suddenly voluminous hair and my flushed cheeks.

“You’re glowing,” I whisper in quiet awe to my reflection. Then I make my way out of my own suite and into my mother’s.

All three suites are identical, but my mother brought some personal touches from home. When I walk through the door, I see her favorite red woven carpet on the floor and the row of family pictures perched on the mantel over the bar.Mug shots,Dad always used to call them. No one ever laughed but he said the joke so many times that eventually, it became funny.

“Good morning,” I chirp as brightly as I can muster.

The table by the balcony has been set with two large trays of food looking fit to burst. I smell bacon and eggs and the sweetness of syrupy French toast, but my stomach churns reluctantly.

“Hungry?” Mia asks brightly. “Donnie sent up quite the spread.”

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, noticing a pot of peanut butter fondue nestled amongst all the other goodies.

“No occasion,” Mia bristles. “He’s just a really nice man.”

Mom smiles and nods. “He’s been a godsend. Such a lovely man. And so handsome.”

I frown, realizing that this is the first time I’ve ever heard my mother refer to any man as handsome. Apart from Dad, of course.

It strikes me that they’re not so far apart in age. Hargrove must be a few years younger, but it’s clear he takes care of himself.

Which is not to say that Mom hasn’t. She’s a beautiful woman and always has been. But she was never conscious or very concerned about how she looked.

When she hit forty, she gave up on dieting and stopped looking at the scale altogether. She ate what she wanted when she wanted and never apologized for it. When her hair started to go gray, she let it. The only times she ever wears makeup is for weddings, and you could set a calendar to her rotation of oversized cotton blouses and khaki capris.

Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

This morning, though, she’s wearing a patterned prairie dress, and I could swear I see mascara on her eyelashes.

“Handsome, huh?” I ask, unable to let that one go.

She looks at me innocently. “Of course. Though I suppose he might be a little too old for you to notice.”

Mia shakes her head. “Even Liv concedes that George Clooney is hot. And George would kill for Donnie’s bone structure.”

They both titter with laughter. I join in, reluctantly at first, but by the time our giggles fade, I’m starting to feel better.

This is fine. Everything is fine.

“You look nice,” I tell Mia as I slip into the chair between her and Mom.

“Thanks, munchkin,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

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