“Bloodthirsty wench.” I kiss her cheek when she places pancakes in front of me and a pot of— “Varenye?”
Her smile turns smug. “You didn’t think I could make it?”
Nor theZavarkawith caravan tea leaves—especially for me, or so she told me.
“That the weird jam you were making with Wynter the other day?”
“Shut up, Shay.”
Seamus shrugs. “Now I know why you wouldn’t let me have any.”
“Varenyeis wasted on your plebeian palate.” She nudges the jar toward me. “I asked Miroslava what your favorite was.”
I snag her hand, lift it to my mouth, and kiss the inside of her wrist. “Thank you,dorogoya moya.”
“Excuse me while I barf.”
Victoria whips around to glower at him.“Fuck off, Shay.”
He chortles. “Did you know if you boil the cherries with their pits in, it releases hydrocyanic acid into the jam, Maxim?”
“I pitted them first! And you’re wrong, Mr. Know-It-All. You have to crush the pit first.”
“Miroslava asked you three times if you’d thrown the pit out though, didn’t she?” Seamus throws her a smirk that she bites her thumb at. “My work here is done, Mrs. Shakespeare.”
“And take that OJ with you after it’s had your disgusting mouth around it!”
“Yes, ma’am. Shall I salute too?”
“I mean, I could make you kneel,” she retorts, saccharin sweet.
Seamus flips her the bird, winks at me, then, strolling out with a whistle—OJ in one hand and a dish of pancakes in the other—calls out, “We going running today?”
“Yes,” she shouts back. “This afternoon?”
“4 PM?”
“Okay!” Like that short convo never happened, she taps her finger to her lips. “I can see why you think he’s annoying.”
Snorting at the admission, I drizzle the cherry jam over the pancakes. “Almost killed me before we’d been married a week?”
“No. I knew that cherry pits were dangerous. Just like apple seeds,” she insists. “Though, admittedly, what a way to go.”
“Death by jam? Innovative.”
Victoria presses her elbows to the counter and leans into my shoulder. “What a way to murder someone! Come on, Maxim. There’s more to murder than just amputation!”
“I don’t kill everyone I meet,kotik.”
“Only the really annoying people, I bet.” She clucks her tongue. In sympathy. “I get it.”
I try not to laugh. “And amputation doesn’t always lead to death. It’s useful that way.”
Her gaze turns distant. “Makes sense.”
“I’m sensible sometimes.”
“Don’t you… have any hobbies?”
