She doesn’t say a word, but I hear a low hiss escape her throat as she storms past the kitchen to the laundry room without another word.
“So, Misha,” I say, ignoring the little interruption, “what would you say to spending the evening with Remi and me? You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s a big softie once you get to know him.”
Misha eyes Remi, who’s frolicking around in the gardens outside of the window, snapping at passing butterflies. “I’m not supposed to leave my room,” he mutters.
His eyes fall to my belly. “Everyone.”
I wave away his worry. “You let me deal with ‘everyone.’ So what do you—”
The sound of heavier footsteps sends Misha springing to his feet. I follow suit and, acting on some instinct I don’t have any idea how to explain, I slide in front of Misha just b
