Vik (Shot Callers 2)

And as I passed Vik, my voice trembled as I shook my head at him. On the verge of tears, I whispered, “I asked you not to call him.”

Mortified, I made it to my room before the tears fell.

So many thoughts but only one that mattered.

What would Sasha think of me now?

Vik

“It’s time to talk, brother,” Sasha said guardedly.

It was. I could no longer do this on my own. Worn down and broken, I nodded slowly, defeated, knowing I had failed to fix my issues on my own.

And I talked.

27

Nastasia

It was odd, knowing I had a little human growing inside me. I would have thought I’d feel different somehow, but maybe that came later. I don’t know what I thought might happen the day I found out I was pregnant. I guess I assumed the world would look changed. Maybe colors would seem brighter. That I might be consumed by a happiness never felt before. Feel an optimism that outweighed all doubts.

But as I woke up drooling on my pillow, all I felt was tender in the tummy.

I had to say—it was all rather anticlimactic.

And as I groaned quietly, nuzzling my face into the dry side of my pillow, I realized, gut-wrenchingly, that I was still a woman who had no plan, was a mess, and, worst of all, was without her man.

All that, and I was expected to be someone’s mother?

Hell. That couldn’t be good, right?

I didn’t have a clear enough mind to think on it. Right now, all I could do was take one small step at a time.

After the initial positive, I might have panicked, diving into the drawers of the vanity to retrieve the bag of pregnancy tests Mina had left at my place. One by one, I dipped them, used a dropper to fill the small hole, then waited for them to develop until my entire bathroom sink was covered in white plastic sticks.

One after another, they all gave the same result.

Positive. Pregnant. A smiley face. Two little pink lines.

I sat slumped on the closed lid of the toilet, chewing gum and staring into nothingness.

As far as plans went, this little surprise wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even on my radar. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. But you know what they say. When life hands you lemons, bring out the tequila and salt. Which I would have to offer to my friends, as I was no longer allowed to drink.

My brow furrowed as I chewed faster, and my knee began to bob rapidly as the reality of this situation hit me.

I was pregnant.

Holy shit.

Dude.

It took no time at all to make a decision. There was no question. I knew my life could have been better. I wished I had more to offer this child than a fractured home and some sparkly tidbits. I would probably need to read a book or two about it, but I was having this baby.

My mind was already working with thoughts on how to babyproof this place. I shot up off the toilet and walked the long upstairs hall, deciding where the nursery would be. How did I want it decorated? Neutrals were a safe bet. Did I want to know the sex or leave it as a surprise? My mouth pulled down. I really hated surprises. I already started to look up the best baby monitors and the safest car seats, which bath products contained the least amount of chemicals, and what difference organic cotton made. My phone in one hand, the fingers of the other shot to my forehead, picking anxiously at my skin as I continued to read.

This shit was complicated.

The more I read, the more anxious I became about buying the wrong binky or not using the right brand of diapers.

A quick scroll through some parenting forums had my brows lifting to my hairline.

Turns out, the harshest critics of mothers were… well, mothers.

“Geez,” I muttered as my eyes took in the absolute shitshow that was a momma using a common name-brand shampoo for her children. One woman told her that she obviously didn’t care for her kids. Another told her she should be ashamed of herself. My eyes widened in shock when one poster called the woman a murderer. Over shampoo. “C’mon now. What ever happened to women backing women?”

Apparently, that didn’t apply to the holier-than-thou mothers of the internet.

And, just like that, before this baby was even born, I already felt like I was royally screwing up.

But the thought of a baby girl with Vik’s clear-blue eyes or a little boy with the trademark Leokov dimple had my heart in knots.

I found myself uncharacteristically emotional, crying on and off for the better part of the evening. You know, people talked about how unprepared they were for the love they felt when they first met their child. At the time, I may not have understood that, but I did now. This little bean hadn’t even arrived, hadn’t even taken its first breath, and I would willingly kill for it.