I almost let it ring out. Almost.
But my finger slides across the screen before I can stop it.
Sasha’s face fills my screen, and the sight of him knocks the air from my lungs. His hair is mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The usual pristine dress shirt is wrinkled, top buttons undone. There are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there when he left Italy.
“I couldn’t sleep. Not after— f**k, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He drags a hand through his hair, and I catch the flicker of a pink hair tie on his wrist—mine, from months and months ago. “I’m tearing myself apart here. This city, this war… it’s eating me alive, but I need you to know that I’m doing it for you. For them.”
His gaze drops to my belly, and I shift, suddenly aware of how the shirt rides up, exposi
