Cynda tilts her head with a considering look. “Could it be because something I said about truly loving The Fine Prince resonated with you?”
“No, it’s because of these damn baby hormones,” I insist with a sniffle. “He’s a liar who will do anything it takes to win.”
“Normally, I’d be co-signing that diagnosis,” Cynda says. “But speaking as someone whose boyfriend recently revealed a pretty huge secret, I’m wondering if that’s true. Chess did lie to you. But does that make him a liar?
“What your boyfriend omitted from his back story is totally different.”
“Is it?” Cynda asks. “Because he knew back when we dated the first time around that it could have been a deal breaker if I knew who he really was. And who knows how long he would have kept it a secret if I hadn’t accidentally found out.”
Her argument makes sense. And though I really am happy for her and want her relationship to succeed, I find myself asking, “Then why did you forgive him?”
“You know, in the end, forgiveness wasn’t even the point. It wasn’t about me forgiving him for what he’d kept from me. It was about me figuring out if I loved this man the way he loved me. Also, did I trust him enough to believe that he’d love me forever and would never lie to me again. The answer to all those questions was yes. And after I figured that out, there was only one question left.”
“What?” I ask. I’m all the way leaned into the phone, like I’m watching a cliffhanger on Netflix.
“Could I allow myself to let him love me, even though I was afraid?” Cynda answers, her voice sincere and quiet.
The question hits me like an ocean wave. And I lean back as I try to figure out if my own answer to that question is yes or no.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cheslav keeps his promise about not getting back in touch with me. Vlad is the one who ends up texting me to make sure I know he’ll be the one escorting me to my 12-week ultrasound.
It is super awkward having someone who looks like he could play Russian Henchman # 3 in that crime movie waiting for me when I get done with my appointment. But he takes a print out of the ultrasound from me and places it in his inside pocket without a word.
And when we pull up to my condo after my checkup, he says, “Okay, I’ll be seeing you in July,”
“I can go to the rest of my appointments by myself,” I let him know.
“If that was true, I wouldn’t be here,” Vlad answers.
Then before I can protest again, Vlad says, “He hangs back even though it’s killing him not to be there for the first ultrasound. Take the win. I know you’re mad, but he’s a mess right now, and he won’t be able to handle it if you cut him all the way out.”
I want to feel resentful that Vlad is acting like Cheslav was the one who was hurt most by our breakup. But the only emotion weighing me down as I climb out of the car is sadness.
Anyway, I take an online version of the CPA exam shortly after and find out immediately that I passed. Which means an automatic pay increase at my job. Yes!
The raise thrills me. But for some reason, not being able to tell Cheslav, threw a cloud over the whole thing. Like my victory wasn’t a victory if he wasn’t there.
Luckily, I have work to distract me. Just as I’d predicted back in the spring, June is the new March. And after a few congratulations from my co-workers and boss, I’m buried with work.
So my life is boring again. Just as I like it. And I’m pretty sure my lawyer and Cheslav’s will figure out a way to split custody of the baby in a way that’s fair, even if Cheslav decides to take his brother up on the opportunity to buy the Minnesota Razors.
But then I wake up from a “Did you see this???” text from Cynda.
My mouth drops open when I see the screaming headline from a popular sports site: “King Chess Refusing to Return for Rest of Hockey Season.”
Then I blink several times as I scan the article about how Chess has decided not to finish his last season because he has a baby on the way and doesn’t want to do anything that would put the child or its mother in danger.
I snatch up my phone. “What are you doing?”
Cheslav’s answer comes back just a few seconds later. “What is best for our family.”
What the hell?
“We’re not a family. We’re two people who need to get a long-distance custody agreement in place. And this is your last chance for a Stanley Cup,” I inform him.