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“I love parties, Yulia. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Oh, God. I’m going to hell.
Chapter 39
Luka
“BLURP!”
The gurgling noise is loud enough to be heard around the room. And it’s a sound that’s coming from Yulia’s belly. I watch as she successfully annihilates her second bowl of macaroni. Finally, she sits back, licking her lips and patting her full stomach.
Sophia can’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “Your sister’s got quite the appetite, Luka.”
I laugh back, nodding at the observation. “You’ve no idea.”
Yulia is now trying to sneak a portion to the dog.
“Malyška,” I say, giving her a pretend stern look, “Don’t turn Max into a macaroni junkie.”
Yulia raises her eyebrows, her expression one of pure innocence. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, if Max were a human like us,” I retort. “But dogs…they don’t digest pasta the same way.”
She squints in thought. “Max likes it.”
“No doubt,” I agree, nodding at the puppy. “But we should stick to dog-friendly stuff next time, yes?”
Max yaps as if throwing in his two cents. Yulia explodes into giggles, and even Sophia joins in. The laughter rings through the lake house, as warm and welcoming as the setting sun outside. As the giggles taper off, silence wraps around us, only broken by the rustle of leaves against the window. I glance at Sophia, whose gaze meets mine with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. But I sense she can tell that there’s more to this moment.
I clear my throat, turning my attention to Yulia. “Malyška,” I begin, “Are you ready to go visit Mama and Papa?”
The room freezes.
Sophia’s mouth opens and closes as if trying to find the right words in the sudden stillness. Her eyebrows knit together, the confusion in her face clear as daylight. She was not briefed on this part of our family history.
Yulia’s nod is small, her eyes solemn but accepting. I know she understands this part of our routine better than anyone. She’s been coming here since she was a toddler, her small hand in mine as we visited Mama’s grave.
I stand, shaking off the comfortable lethargy of a heavy lunch. “We have a tradition,” I explain to Sophia, my tone gentle. “We usually take a walk post-lunch. Care to join us?”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration rising. “Blyat,” I mutter under my breath.
Why the hell did I invite her?
This is our private ritual, our tribute to our parents. What the fuck would prompt me to ask her to join us?
“Luka, hurry up!” Yulia’s high-pitched demand snaps me out of my brooding. The dog joins in, and now there’s chaos. My sister is on her feet and heading to the door.
“Patience, malyška!” I quicken my steps to catch up with them. Sophia rises and tags along.
‘Well, fuck,’ I grumble inwardly. My legs have their own agenda today, it seems. Within seconds, I’m walking in stride with Sophia. It’s too damn late to turn back now.
I shoot sidelong looks at her as we head along the worn path. The sunshine is glowing off her skin. It’s like she’s been kissed by an angel or some shit.
Get a grip, Luka.
I’m sounding like a damn poet. But even my inner cynic can’t deny the facts – she’s a sight to behold.
The path crunches under my boots as we venture further; to our right, the sun catches the waves on the lake. It’s an afternoon ripped straight from a storybook – warm but with a light breeze that rustles the surrounding trees and eases the heat. So serene. It’s all perfect, too damn perfect, and that doesn’t sit right with me.
