Chapter 67: : Chapter 67

EMMA: Yes.

RUSLAN: Come to the door.

EMMA: Why?

RUSLAN: Because I’m outside.

A few moments later, she opens the door, ensconced in baggy sweats and a thick sweater. Her puffy eyes betray the fact that she’s been crying. Her tangled hair betrays the fact that she’s been tossing and turning in bed for a while.

“Ruslan, it’s late.”

I grab her hand and pull her out into the hallway. The recessed staircase lights are on but the only other light coming through is from the streetlamps and the moon streaming in through the windows above the staircase.

“I need to talk to you.”

She sighs, crossing her hands over her chest. “It’s been a really long day, Ruslan. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

“It’s past one, Emma. If you wanted to sleep, you’d be asleep.”

She bites her bottom lip and turns towards the door. “Okay, so maybe I just want to be alone,” she snaps. “I appreciate everything you did for me today but honestly, it’s not necessary. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?”

Her eyes narrow instantly. That’s not how I meant it to come out. Coming here when I was less than a hundred percent sober may not have been the best idea, but it’s too late now; I’ve already jumped down the rabbit hole.

“You need to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out.”

Her eyes go wide. “Does playing the hero make you feel good about yourself, Ruslan? Because I’m not interested in being the victim. I’m not interested in being your charity case, either. What I need right now is space.”

“If that’s what you really want, then I’ll accept it. But first, I need to say a few things.”

Her mouth turns down at the corners and her gaze gets more distant. What is she anticipating? She sighs. “I’ll give you five minutes.”

“I only need one.” I meet her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Emma. I meant what I said: you’re mine. And I’m gonna take care of you. And those kids. If they’re the only children we ever have together, that’s alright with me.”

Her eyes get wider as I speak. Her cheeks flush with color until it overtakes the bruise on her face.

“Y-you… really mean that?” she asks in barely a whisper.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

She takes a deep breath. “I… um… That’s a lot to process.”

I take her hand. “Take your time. Just know that I’m right here. I won’t let you push me out the door again.”

Her fingers return pressure. She’s quiet for a moment, chewing at her lip and looking at me, at the moon, at the floor, at me again. At last, she whispers, “Do you wanna come in?”

“Only if you want me to.”

She meets my eyes. “I do.”