I count as the four families move toward the exit. I hold my head up high, breathe intently through my nose, keep the coldly indifferent expression on my face, though inside I’m screaming and begging for help.
Only Ezra can help me.
Just wait.
Someone touches my elbow and I flinch, turning sideways as Renata moves to stand in front of me. “I look forward to catching up with you at the reception,” she says coldly, dark shadows beneath her eyes and a sneer across her lips. She glances down at my stomach. “Olivia had her baby early…last week. Why do you think yours hasn’t found his way out yet?”
Because I’m fucking cursed.
I force a condescending smile. “He’ll come when he’s ready. I don’t think you and I need to do any catching up. I don’t particularly care how your life has been since we saw each other last.” My voice goes up on the last word as pain grips me again. I have to end this conversation quickly. “If you don’t mind, I need some time alone with my talent slave. You can head back to the grand entrance with the others. Please, enjoy the reception.”
“Don’t think that you and Ezra have gotten away from me just because Murphy took pity on you. Your baby is one of us now, and I intend to make certain that’s how he’s raised.”
I swallow hard as my face contorts in pain, though I mask it as barely controlled anger. It seems to work as she gives me a vile grin, satisfied that she thinks she’s upset me. I let out a long breath when she finally turns and walks away, marching back up the aisle like she owns the goddamn place.
She can fucking have it.
As she walks away, my hand falls to my stomach as the contraction takes over and grips me entirely. I glance up to Ezra, who is still standing center stage, his chest heaving with his fists clenched at his sides. He’s eager to get to me, but he has to wait until she’s gone, too.
Somehow, I manage to hold on, to keep my posture, my expression, my composure, as an invisible boulder crushes my stomach. When the final person clears from the house, I reach down with one hand to grip the back of the chair in front of me, folding forward, breathing, and counting through the end of this god-awful fucking contraction. I hear Ezra’s footsteps jogging after me as he rushes down from the stage and he sprints down a row of chairs to get to me.
“Shit,” he says, “it can’t be happening now.”
“It is.” Nearly a full minute goes by before the pain flows to a gradual stop and I’m able to stand upright. My fingers scramble to gather my layered tulle skirt, clawing it upward to peek beneath—it’s the same blush-colored gown with long lacey sleeves that I wore to the O’Sheas’ last quarter. “Something’s happening. I’m leaking.”
“Is it…Did your water break?”
“I don’t know. I think it must have.” Whatever is leaking from me is clear and I don’t know what else it would be. It just keeps flowing in a continuous trickle down my legs.
“Okay.” I sense the fear in Ezra’s voice, and it makes me scared, too. “This is it, Anya. We have to go. Now. This is our only chance. All you have to do is get changed and get in the car, okay? Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I rush out. “Yes, of course I can. I will. We have to leave tonight. There won’t be another opportunity. I’ll wait here. Go get the backpack.”
Ezra takes off, jogging up the side steps onto the stage, then disappears behind the curtain. I wait, breathing through the pain, my eyes hyper-focused on the seat of Nikolai’s chair beside me.
I’m cursed.
He’s cursed me.
Will I ever be able to escape him?
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes as I wait.
All I can do is wait.
Wait for Ezra to return.
Wait for the next contraction.
Wait for success or failure.
Wait for life or death.
I’m terrified. There’s no better word for it. It’s all happening so fast and I have no control over any of it.
Ezra comes rushing back with a black backpack slung over one shoulder. We’ve packed our essentials in that single black bag—clothes to change into, cash and Kostya’s credit card, our fake passports, some diapers and basics for the baby…just enough to get us through the airport.
That’s all we’re leaving with—that and hope.
“Hey.” Ezra bends and meets my eyes, surely sensing my fear. “We’re gonna make it, baby. We can do this together. I’ve got you.”
I hold him there with my eyes for moments longer than we have to spare. But I need this—I need him connected with me. I need the power he always feeds me with his brilliant green gaze.
His cheeks lift as his signature disarming grin appears. “We’ve got this,” he says.
With that and a deep, steadying breath, I find my courage. I nod and rise from my bent position. “Okay. Just leave my change of clothes in the bag,” I tell him, “I might have to…The baby might come and I’ll just have to take my jeans off again. The dress is easier.”
His eyebrows slant toward his nose, erasing his smile as he pulls his clothes from the backpack. “Okay. Yeah, but I need you to put your sneakers on, okay?”
He helps me into my shoes, throwing on a T-shirt for himself and shoes of his own. We didn’t have enough room in the bag for winter jackets to fight the bitter January cold, but it doesn’t matter. We won’t be outside long.
Ezra slings the backpack over one shoulder and takes my arm, guiding me up the red-carpeted aisleway. As I look ahead, to the doors leading out into the foyer, the truth hits me square in the chest.
We’re leaving.
We’re escaping.
This is really happening.
I’ll never have to see this stage and all the horrific ghosts of my past partners again.
At the top of the aisle, Ezra tells me to wait while he pulls open the door to peek into the foyer for Kostya and the all-clear. I turn back for a moment, for one last look at the stage that was built for me, at the place where I danced for Nikolai. I feel the tug of something, a sharp yank on my heartstrings that draws my attention back to Nikolai’s seat. When my eyes fall upon that spot, my heart drops into my stomach. I swear I can feel him there—Nikolai.
Cursed.
I want my last look upon this place to be a goodbye and a good riddance, but I still hold that faint sense of gratitude that Nikolai arranged for our legal marriage. Ultimately, it saved me and Ezra and somehow, it led us to this moment where we’re finally able to attempt freedom with hope for a future.
“Goodbye, Nikolai,” I murmur into the empty space.