“Or if you’re just getting love-drunk on the Kool-Aid he’s pouring down your throat.”
My heart is beating hard against my chest. I really don’t want her to hate Uri. Especially considering that “love-drunk” might not be so far from the truth.
“Elle,” I say, grabbing her hand, “I know this is a lot to take in. And I get that you’re worried for me. I am, too, to be honest. But not because of Uri.”
“He’s a beautiful man, Alyssa. In fact, he might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior.” She leans forward and dips her chin to give me her serious look. “He’s lurking out there waiting for you. He told you to sit by the window. He had you under lockdown for months. He limited your contact with your friends and family. He doesn’t sound protective so much as way too possessive.”
“I know what it looks like,” I protest weakly, “but that’s not how it actually is.”
“No? In what ways?”
“It’s been a rough few weeks and he’s worried about us.”
“‘Us’? Who’s ‘us’?”
I take a deep breath and rip the Band-Aid off. “I’m pregnant, Elle,” I say with a shaky smile. “With twins.”
She gawks at me soundlessly for a few moments. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she manages to get anything out. Ziva used to call it “going goldfish.”
“You’re not joking,” she breathes at last.
I smile weakly. “I wouldn’t joke about something like that. I’m entering my second trimester.”
“With twins?”
I nod. “Yeah. Twins. Identical twins.”
“I… I actually can’t believe it.”
“Trust me—I have trouble with it some days, too.”
Elle glances towards the window. “So… um, your sexy kidnapper out there… He’s worried that this bad dude mafia guy is going to come after you and the babies?”
I ignore the “sexy kidnapper” part, accurate though it may be. “That’s part of it. But last week, I had some pretty extreme bleeding and I thought I was gonna lose the babies. I’m okay now, but Uri… He’s been at my side pretty much nonstop since the hospital. He makes sure I eat well and drink well and get enough sleep.”
“But you’re fine? And the babies?”
“Both good. Both healthy.”
Elle nods. “And… forgive me for asking, but you’re happy about being pregnant? I’m assuming it wasn’t planned?”
“Not even a little bit,” I admit. “But it was never really a choice. I knew from the moment I had an inkling about their existence that I was going to go through with this.”
“And he’s happy, too?”
“I think so, yeah.”
Elle lets out a low whistle and leans back in her seat. “I have to say—that’s a buttload of information.”
I give her a self-conscious smile. “And you guys always thought I was the boring one in our little triangle.” I play with my Z link as I say it.
Elle smiles sadly. “Twins. Like you and Z. How do you feel about that?”
“Actually, it made me feel like it was meant to be. That she’s with me somehow, looking down at me from time to time. I think she’d have been happy for me.”
“Just to clarify, I’m happy for you, too. It’s just… your meet-cute isn’t exactly traditional.”
“No, but who wants traditional, am I right?”
Elle purses her lips. “I mean, if ‘traditional’ means I avoid being held captive for several months, I’ll take it over nontraditional any day.”
“He was doing that to protect me, Elle. I trust Uri and I really want you to give him a chance. For my sake, if nothing else.”
Elle sighs and glances out the window. Uri is on the phone with someone and his face is turned away from us. “Of course I’ll give him a chance. He’s the father of your children.”
“Thank you.” I reach out and take her hand. “I want to apologize for missing your bachelorette party and your wedding. I want you to know it killed me.”
“Your life is more important than a party. I get that.”
“Will you forgive me?”
She waves a dismissive. “You’re already forgiven.”
I release a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I’m gonna make it up to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says with a little smirk.
“How was it by the way? It’s your turn to tell me everything.”
The distraction technique works. Elle launches into a full story about the whole shebang. Her eyes light up as she speaks and I can tell how much that day meant to her. Her enthusiasm is catching because suddenly, I find myself imagining another wedding—one that involves Uri and me.
Stop that right now.
No good is gonna come of daydreaming about things that might never happen. Uri is many things, but the marrying kind? Yeah—I don’t think so.
“By the way, your mom and dad were at the wedding. They gifted me a crystal vase. It was very sweet.”
I tense up a little. “Did they ask about me?”
“Um, well, your mom did mention she thought it was ridiculous that you’d chosen a job over my big day. But if you’re asking if they suspected that something was amiss, then the answer is no, I don’t think they did.”
Sighing, I try to push my frustration away. Uri returned my phone back to me some time ago. He’d kept up the fa?ade of my “work trip” to Cuba. Every so often, he texted my mother or answered a message from my father. He’d done a pretty good job, all things considered, of making it sound like he was me.
Not that it was a hard thing to do. My conversation threads with my parents were short, to the point, and lacking any real affection.
“I texted Mom yesterday and asked how she and Dad were doing. Still haven’t received a response.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, hon.”
I shrug. “You’d think they’d want to be close with the one child they have left. But apparently not.”
“You guys went through a rough patch after Ziva died. Maybe you just need more time to recover from that.”
“Eight years is pretty long for a ‘patch,’ Elle.”
“Did you guys ever have a real conversation?” she inquires. “After that big blowout fight?”
I tense up, goosebumps spreading over my body like wildfire. I actively avoid thinking about that time because it puts me right back in the moment and it’s not the kind of memory I want to relive. It’s not the kind of memory I ever wanted to live in the first place.
“No, not really. We just did what we always do: swept it under the rug.”
“No wonder it’s festered.”
“Nothing’s festered,” I argue, sounding defensive even to my own ears. “I was never close to my parents.”
“It was never this bad, though,” Elle points out. “Come on, Lys, let’s be real here. You’ve been gone for months without much of an explanation and I was way more concerned than your parents.”
It hurts to hear but it’s true. “I’ve tried with them, Elle, but—
“Have you?”
“Excuse me?”
She hides behind her glass of water for a moment. “I’m just saying, I was there. I saw it all unfold. After Ziva died… emotions were running high. Things were said. And instead of dealing with the fallout, you all retreated to your separate corners.”