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And besides, I promised Roman I’d come back to the hospital this afternoon and see Darya.

I move around the apartment on autopilot, showering in the tiny bathroom where Abby and I made love more times than I can remember, dressing in clothes I left in her drawer when I thought it was going to be forever.

There’s still time.

I leave the apartment before one p.m. and walk to the hospital in an effort to get my head together. I stop on the way to grab abocadillo, a Spanish bread roll stuffed with fillings, more to soak up the alcohol than anything else.

It tastes like sawdust.

I reach the hospital before I’m ready to go in, but then, I’m not sure there’s going to be a time today when I’m ready for anything except the phone call I’m increasingly sure isn’t going to come.

When I go into Darya’s room, Roman is sitting on the bed, Aleksander in his arms. “Brother!” His smile is so brilliant it hurts to look at. “Come meet your godson.”

I approach the bed, horribly aware of Darya’s watchful gaze.

“Dimitry,” she says gently, catching my hand as I reach the bedside. “How are you?”

I raise my eyes to hers, and her smile fades. She squeezes my hand, tugging me down into the chair beside her before she lets it go. Roman, as oblivious as ever to anything but his own joy, places the small bundle in my arms.

“He’s big,” he says proudly. “Almost eight pounds.”

“And I felt every one of them,” Darya says wryly.

“He’s a beauty.” I’m amazed my voice still works. I’m afraid of holding the infant for long in case I just plain forget I’ve got a baby in my arms.

“You sound like it was a late night,” Roman says, grinning. “Don’t tell me you kicked on after you left me?”

“Just for a bit.” I keep my eyes averted. “I’m so happy for you both,” I say, handing the baby carefully back to Darya. “I’ve got a gift, by the way.”

From Abby and me.

I think it but don’t say it. Abby bought the gift before she left. I found it with her letter, back in Madrid.

Maybe I knew even then she’d never come back.

I place the silver box on the bedside table, praying Darya won’t open it while I’m in the room. I’m not sure I can take hearing whatever message Abby left for her.

“Roman,” Darya says, and I realize she’s watching me again, “would you mind getting me a peppermint tea? The café across the road does a proper pot, not the hospital instant stuff.”

“Of course.” Roman leaps up with alacrity. For once I’m grateful for the self-absorption that prevents him from realizing his wife is getting rid of him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He claps my shoulder and walks out, whistling.

Darya waits until the sound of his footsteps has faded. “He doesn’t realize it’s today,” she says quietly. “And I didn’t wantto tell him. He’d only be upset, and even angrier at Abby than he already is.”

I nod.

She puts the sleeping baby into the bassinet by the bed and takes my hand again. “So there’s been no word.” It’s not a question. My face is answer enough, but I shake my head anyway.

“Dimitry.” The tension in her tone makes me look at her. Darya is frowning down at the bedspread, her topaz eyes clouded. “If I told Roman this, he’d think I’m crazy, and maybe I am. But I just...” She swallows, then raises her eyes to mine. “What if something has happened to her?”

I stand up, easing my hand from hers. “I know she reached Australia safely and made it through customs. I tracked her that far, just because I’d have gone insane if I didn’t. But you know Abby better than anyone, Darya. How do you think she’d react if she found out I was using our security team to track her?”

“I understand.” She nods. “But I can’t help thinking something is wrong. I ran for a long time. You get a sixth sense. A kind of knowing, when something is off. I’ve had that feeling the last few days, like there’s something coming.”

“A baby, maybe?”

She smiles, but my poor attempt at humor falls way short.

“Abby didn’t contact you either, then?” I already know she didn’t, or Darya would have told me.