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“You could’ve told me,” he says quietly. The words are soft, but they feel like a blow.
“I didn’t keep him from you out of spite,” I say quickly. “I didn’t want to hold you back because of my pregnancy. Especially when you didn’t want me.”
He looks at me as if I just spoke a foreign language.
“What do you mean by I didn’t want you?”
Against my will, I allow my mind to travel back to that conversation, and I remind him of it. “I heard you on the phone the night I asked for divorce… You said you couldn’t wait to end our fake marriage.”
He jerks upright. “You heard that?”
I nod, chest tightening. “You were in your study. I was coming to look for you when I heard you. And I didn’t wait to hear more. Your voice sounded so frustrated, and I felt like I was just...a burden.”
Zasha drags a hand through his hair, his expression full of pain and disbelief. “Mara, I was on the phone with Viktor and Lev. I told them I couldn’t wait to end the fake marriage because I wanted a real one with you. I was working up the nerve to tell you how I feel.”
The breath rushes out of me.
“I didn’t know you’d heard me,” he says, his voice raw with anguish.
I feel like I’ve been punched.
All this time... “I ran to protect myself, and chose to protect my baby for nothing?”
He walks toward me. “You were pregnant and alone because of something I said—something you misunderstood. That’s on me.”
“No,” I whisper. “It’s on both of us.”
There’s silence between us, aching and thick. Then I look at him, “I wasin love with you, and never stopped loving you.”
“Mara, I love you so much it hurts.” His chest heaves. “I should have come after you. But then you’d told me all you wanted me for was as an exit.”
My hands fly to my mouth. “I said that to get you to agree to marry me.”
We stand there, a storm of unspoken grief swirling between us. But then, something breaks through. He steps forward, and I meet him halfway.
When he wraps his arms around me, it’s not just a hug. It’s a gathering of every shattered piece. A silent vow.
“You and Maksim,” he says against my hair, “are my everything. I never thought you’d come back to me.”
My tears fall fast, hot against his chest. “I thought I’d lost this forever.”
“You didn’t,” he says, pulling back just enough to cup my face. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
Then his lips brush mine—soft, aching, sure.
And for the first time in years, I feel whole.
47
Chapter 38
Xiomara
I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the solid wall of his chest pressing into mine. His lips find mine, hungry and desperate, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. I melt into him, my hands tangling in his short black hair, holding him close. His kiss is demanding, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting of whiskey and something darker, something uniquely him.
He lifts me onto the kitchen counter, his hands never leaving my body. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heart pounding in my chest. The bruises on my ribs ache faintly, a reminder of the fight I’d been in earlier, but Zasha’s touch is careful, almost reverent. He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searchingmine like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “You’re hurt,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the tender spot on my side.
“It’s nothing,” I say, my voice breathless. “Don’t stop.”