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He must have forgotten his key. I yank the door open, but it isn’t Nik on the porch.
Before I can process what I’m seeing—who I’m seeing—the dark-haired girl drops her suitcases, throws her arms wide, and grins up at me.
“Surprise, big brother! Aren’t you going to let me in?”
37
YAKOV
“Mariya.”
I say her name, but my brain still isn’t processing. She can’t be here. She’s supposed to be half a world away.
Mariya rushes forward and throws her arms around my middle. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s been so long.”
I pat her back in a daze. “Three years.”
Three long years that feel even longer when Mariya steps back and I get a good look at her.
The last time I saw her in person, she was fourteen. She had knobby knees and braces and frizzy hair she didn’t know what to do with. She was a child. Now…
“You’ve grown up.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She laughs and pushes a suitcase towards me. “What does a girl have to do around here to get a little help with her bags?”
I wheel the suitcases inside and my doorman, Heinrich, sleepily makes his way towards us down the hall.
“I saw your arrival on the doorbell camera, Miss Mariya.” He yawns and dips his head in a formal greeting. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back. You can take these to my room, Heinrich.”
After a silent confirmation from me, Heinrich does as Mariya asked. Three years away, but she still remembers how to order around the staff. Some things never change.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” She spins in a circle, taking in every detail. “Is my room exactly the same? I hope so. I’ve missed it. Not the butterfly wallpaper, but the bed. My mattress here was always so much more comfortable. Russians can’t make mattresses for shit.”
I drag a hand down my face, rubbing sleep and alcohol out of my eyes. “How did you get here, Mariya?”
“There was a driver waiting for me at the airport. Nice touch, by the way. I felt very welcomed.”
“I didn’t hire a driver. I would have sent Nik to pick you up.” If I’d had any idea you were coming. Nor do I have any intention of letting you stay.
She shrugs. “Mom must have done it then. She’s the one who booked my ticket.”
Fuck. The string of missed calls earlier tonight suddenly makes a lot more sense. My mother was calling to warn me. She conveniently waited until it was too late to undo it. Mariya’s plane was probably touching down when she decided to fill me in.
Mariya waltzes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Your snack options are bleak. Is there sparkling water in the drink fridge?”
“What did Mother tell you before you left?” I ask.
“‘Bye.’” Mariya dabs at her eyes and waves, doing a fairly good impression of our mother. Then she laughs. “She didn’t say shit. She packed up my suitcases and handed me a ticket.”
“You have friends back home. Did you really want to leave all of them?”
“That place isn’t home,” she says. “This is home. Being with you and Nik is home.”
I can’t come up with a kind way to tell her that she has no fucking idea what she’s signing up for. We haven’t all been together in years. There’s a reason for that. Several, actually.
“What about Mother? She’ll miss you.”
