12
Peter
I know the exact moment Sara realizes the lack of a condom. Her entire body stiffens, and she lifts her head from its resting place on my shoulder, her eyes wide with horror as she meets my gaze.
“We didn’t—”
“I know.”
It’s the second time—the first was the night I stole her—and though I didn’t omit protection on purpose either time, I can’t say I’m sorry. The thought of Sara growing round with my child doesn’t frighten or repel me; in fact, it fills my chest with a soft, warm glow, one I’ve only known once before.
With Pasha, my son.
A familiar ache pierces my chest, the pain of loss as sharp as ever. The image of Pasha’s body, his little fist clutching the toy car, is carved into my mind with the brutal precision of an assassin’s blade. For years, it was the first thing I thought about each morning and the last each evening. It was the nightmare that woke me up at night and the ghost that tormented me during the day. Avenging him and Tamila, my wife who was killed in the same massacre, was my reason for living, and it wasn’t until I met Sara that I found a new purpose in life.
Her.
My little songbird, who’s now my everything.
At my admission about the condom, Sara looks even more horrified. Grabbing a tissue, she scoots back on the bed and wipes frantically between her legs before clutching the blanket to her chest. Her hazel eyes are huge in her pale face as she says in a choked voice, “Are you trying to get me pregnant?”
“No.” I get up before I’m tempted to fuck her again. Even with my body humming with post-orgasm relaxation, the idea of Sara pregnant is making me harden again, and I have some urgent emails to answer before dinner. “It just happened. There wasn’t a lot of thought involved. But as I told you before, I wouldn’t mind—not that it’s likely at this time of the month for you. Right?”
Sara nods, but her death grip on the blanket doesn’t let up. “It’s not likely, but not impossible either,” she says in a slightly calmer tone. “A lot of things can throw off a woman’s cycle, so you can’t assume it’s safe based solely on the calendar. Besides, my cycle is on the shorter side, and my period ended a couple of days ago.” She takes a breath, then says bluntly, “I need the morning-after pill. Can you get it for me?”
I stare at her, struck by the notion. “Maybe,” I say slowly. “What kind of pill is this, and where would I get it?”
I know what she’s talking about, of course, but I pretend ignorance to give myself a moment to think. Though I didn’t consciously intend for this to happen, now that it has, everything inside me rebels at the idea of reducing the odds of Sara’s pregnancy.
It’s a new level of fucked up, but in this moment, I realize I do want a child with her. I want to tie her to me in every way possible, make her mine so completely she’d never be able to leave.
“There are several brands sold in the US,” Sara says. “Plan B, Next Choice, My Way, ella… I don’t know what’s available in Japan, but I’m sure there must be something. These pills work by stopping the release of the egg, preventing fertilization, or stopping the implantation in the uterus. So it’s not an abortion pill; it’s just emergency contraception. I’m sure if you go into any pharmacy in Japan and explain what you need, they’ll give it to you.”
She’s looking at me with such desperate hope that I can’t bring myself to say no.
“All right,” I say, doing my best to hide my reluctance. “Let me see if I can reach Anton before they start heading back. Maybe they’ll be able to pick it up on the way.”
Sara’s entire countenance brightens. “Yes, please. The sooner it’s taken, the more effective it is. Within the first twenty-four hours is best, and if I take it tonight, we’ll still be within the seventy-two-hour window for the last time.”
“Got it,” I say and head into the bathroom to wash up. “I will call them as soon as I get downstairs.”
I keep my promise to call Anton, procrastinating only by the amount of time it takes me to answer an urgent email from our hackers. They located a Henderson family friend who recently booked tickets to Croatia and are asking for a payment to pursue the lead further. I transfer another five hundred grand into an agreed-upon account in the Cayman Islands, and then I contact Anton through our secure satellite phone.
To my relief, they’re only minutes away from our mountain retreat. “What do you need?” Anton asks, his words barely discernible over the roar of the helicopter in the background. “The jet lag is kicking my ass, but if it’s something urgent, we can turn around and go get it.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say, suppressing an unwelcome spurt of guilt. “By the time you fly back there, all the pharmacies will be closed anyway.” Or at least that’s what I’m going to tell Sara and hope it doesn’t occur to her that something as simple as a locked door is no obstacle for my team.
We can obtain anything at any time, locks and legalities be damned.
“All right.” Anton must indeed be tired, because he doesn’t react to my strange statement. “We’ll see you in ten.”
He hangs up, and I go upstairs to tell Sara the bad news.
I will get her that pill, but not today.
Tomorrow will be soon enough.