well?”
“Yes. I went to the doctor a couple days ago. He says I’m fine. We’re fine.”
He drew back to study her face. “The college professor?”
“Yes. There hasn’t been anyone but Spence.”
Mikhail’s dark eyes kindled. “If the bastard’s treated you badly—”
“No.” She found it odd that she was able to smile and caught Mikhail’s fisted hands in hers. “No, he’s never treated me badly.”
“So he doesn’t want the child.” When Natasha merely looked down at their joined hands, Mikhail narrowed his eyes. “Natasha?”
“I don’t know.” She pulled away to stand and pace through Mikhail’s collection of beat-up furniture and blocks of wood and stone.
“You haven’t told him?”
“Of course I told him.” As she moved, her hands clasped and unclasped. To calm herself, she stopped by Mikhail’s Christmas tree—a one-foot evergreen in a pot that she’d decorated with bits of colored paper. “I just didn’t give him much of a chance to say anything when I did. I was too upset.”
“You don’t want the child.”
She turned at that, her eyes wide. “How can you say that? How could you think that?”
“Because you’re here, instead of working things out with the college professor.”
“I needed time to think.”
“You think too much.”
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t said before. Natasha’s jaw set. “This isn’t a matter of deciding between a blue dress and a red one. I’m having a child.”
“Tak. Why don’t you sit down and relax before you give it wrinkles.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” She began to prowl again, shoving a box out of her way with one foot. “I didn’t want to get involved with him in the first place. Even when I did, when he made it impossible for me to do otherwise, I knew it was important to keep some distance. I wanted to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes again. And now…” She made a helpless gesture.
“He isn’t Anthony. This baby isn’t Lily.” When she turned around, her eyes were so drenched with emotion that he rose to go to her. “I loved her, too.”
“I know.”
“You can’t judge by what’s gone, Tash.” Gently he kissed her cheeks. “It isn’t fair to you, your professor or the child.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes, I love him.”
“Does he love you?”
“He says—”
He caught her restless hands in his own. “Don’t tell me what he says, tell me what you know.”
“Yes, he loves me.”
“Then stop hiding and go home. You should be having this conversation with him, not with your brother.”
He was slowly going out of his mind. Every day Spence went by Natasha’s apartment, certain that this time she would answer the door. When she didn’t, he stalked over to harass Annie in the shop. He barely noticed the Christmas decorations in shop windows, the fat, cheerful Santas, the glittery angels, the colored lights strung around the houses. When he did, it was to scowl at them.
It had taken all of his efforts to make a show of holiday spirit for Freddie. He’d taken her to pick out a tree, spent hours decorating it with her and complimenting her crumbling popcorn strings. Dutifully he’d listened to her ever-growing Christmas list, and had taken her to the mall to sit in Santa’s lap. But his heart wasn’t in it.
It had to stop, he told himself and he stared out the window at the first snowfall. Whatever crisis he was facing, whatever chaos his life was in, he wouldn’t see Freddie’s Christmas spoiled.
She asked about Natasha every day. It only made it more difficult because he had no answers. He’d watched Freddie play an angel in her school’s Christmas pageant and wished Natasha had been with him.
And what of their child? He could hardly think of anything else. Even now Natasha might be carrying the baby sister Freddie so coveted. The baby, Spence had already realized, that he desperately wanted. Unless… He didn’t want to think of where she had gone, what she had done. How could he think of anything else?
There had to be a way to find her. When he did, he would beg, plead, browbeat and threaten until she came back to him.
She’d had a child. The fact left him dazed. A child she had lost, Spence remembered. But how, and when? Questions that needed answering crowded his mind. She had said she loved him, and he knew that saying it had been difficult for her. Even so, she had yet to trust him.
“Daddy.” Freddie bounced into the room, her mind full of the Christmas that was only six days away. “We’re making cookies.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Freddie grinning, her mouth smeared with red and green sugar. Spence swooped her up to hold her close. “I love you, Freddie.”
She giggled, then kissed him. “I love you, too. Can you come make cookies with us?”
“In a little while. I have to go out first.” He was going to go to the shop, corner Annie and find out where Natasha had gone. No matter what the redhead said, Spence didn’t believe that Natasha would have left her assistant without a number where she could be reached.
Freddie’s lip poked out while she fiddled with Spence’s top button. “When will you come back?”
“Soon.” He kissed her again before he set her down. “When I come back, I’ll help you bake cookies. I promise.”
Content, Freddie rushed back to Vera. She knew her father always kept his promises.
Natasha stood outside the front door as the snow fell. There were lights strung along the roof and around the posts. She wondered how they would look when they were lighted. There was a full-size Santa on the door, his load of presents making him bend from the waist. She remembered the witch that had stood there on Halloween. On that first night she and Spence had made love. On that night, she was certain, their child had been conceived.
For a moment she almost turned back, telling herself she should go to her apartment, unpack, catch her breath. But that would only be hiding again. She’d hidden long enough. Gathering her courage, she knocked.
The moment Freddie opened the door, the little girl’s eyes shone. She let out a squeal and all but jumped into Natasha’s arms. “You’re back, you’re back! I’ve been waiting for you forever.”
Natasha held her close, swaying back and forth. This was what she wanted, needed, she realized as she buried her face in Freddie’s
