“They bite.”I stare at Polkan for a few more seconds before stating, “So do I.”
The soft snort could have come from the dog since Maksim’s expression is perfectly smooth when I straighten and face him, but I think he’s just good at schooling his emotions. Same as his brother.
“Lev has a scar on his left palm,” I add. “Ask him how he got it.”
Maksim scrutinizes me, arms crossed, seemingly assessing my sincerity. “He’s had that scar for a long time,” he finally states.
I nod in agreement. “Impulsively marrying a stranger sounds more like him.”
“So, how did you guys really meet?”
I hesitate, not sure how much I should share. Lev isn’t here for me to consult. He left for Chicago yesterday.
“I got drunk and fell into a pool. He jumped in to help me.”
Maksim finally breaks eye contact, glancing toward the garage. “That doesn’t sound like Lev. If you can’t keep up, he has no use for you. He’ll let you drown.”
“Or he’ll swim twice as fast so you can float.”
His head turns quickly, refocusing on me. This silence lasts longer before he speaks. “You’re not what I expected.”
“How so?”
“If Aleksandr married Victoria, no way that”—he says something in Russian—“wouldn’t.”
I try to repeat what he said, and a shadow of a smile flits across Maksim’s face.
“He is Igor’s favorite. Elena’s too. Lev is the perfect son.” He pulls a box of cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweatpants, the same brand that Lev smokes. “Victoria tried to marry him instead.”
Something Lev definitely did not mention when we discussed his brother’s wedding three years ago. I must not do a great job of disguising my surprise because Maksim smirks as he extracts a cigarette from the box.
“Thought you should know what you stepped into. She asked Igor alone, then told Aleksandr loudly enough for the whole church to hear at Ilya’s baptism.” He withdraws a lighter that I notice is also identical to the one Lev carries. “He’d missed the birth.”
“Can I have one?” I gesture at the box Maksim was about to slip back into his pocket.
He arches an eyebrow before shaking a second out, lighting both cigarettes before handing me one. I’m not sure if he’s trying to be nice or if he thinks I’m incapable of igniting the end myself.
“Thanks.”
Maksim watches me inhale, then exhale carefully, appearing disappointed when I don’t cough or react like an amateur.
I blow out more smoke, then say, “Maybe this will help me run faster today.”
I was about to let the dogs out and set off when Maksim showed up. I’m determined to keep up with my training whileLev is gone. I’m through the worst of the adjustment period—I hope—and I want to impress him with my improvements when he returns.
Maksim snorts. Loudly, not like the suspected soft one earlier. “Stupid Americans. These poison your lungs.”
“Then why do you smoke?”
He scoffs again. “Won’t be what kills me.”
Interesting. I wonder if that’s Lev’s reasoning as well. I’ve never asked why he smokes, just suggested he quit.
Maksim drops the butt of his cigarette in the dirt. I notice a few singed ends were already left in this spot. He must smoke by the kennel often.
“You shouldn’t litter here,” I state. “Or anywhere, but especially by the dogs. One of them might eat it and get sick.”
I’m appraised for several unsettling seconds before Maksim listens, leaning down and retrieving the trash. He tosses them into an unmarked bin I’m unsure is designated for that actual purpose, but they’re definitely out of reach of the dogs.
