Page 13 of The Breath Before Forever

“Yay,” her friend crowed. “But remember, whatever we do, we have to bring your mom, too.”

Yeah.

Couldn’t forget that, either.

4.

The roads leading out of Dubna were more familiar than ever to Vera now. It was too early in the drive to be lost in her thoughts while the vehicle passed the long stretches of snow-covered trees and fields, but that’s exactly where she found herself.

Her driver—Igor lately, when possible and only if she really needed it because he, too, was busy—made her contemplative silence easier by focusing on the road ahead instead of attempting to engage his quiet passenger.

Her thoughts weren’t such a bad place to be at the moment. At least there, she could remember Vaslav’s tired smile and chuckle that morning when she told him her plans to spend Friday and Saturday with her mother and Hannah in the city. She hadn’t expected him to refuse her—and he didn’t—considering Demyan and Claire would travel home within a week or so.

“Get your time in with them,” he had told her, his voice still gruff with exhaustion. With his nose and mouth nuzzling her neck while he delivered those words, Vera was nearly willing to call her weekend plans off entirely.

Almost.

Vaslav, smartly, gave her a reason not to when he had added, “I need some sleep. I’ll be here.”

Rest—when he felt reasonably well—was impossible for Vaslav when Vera was near. A part of her adored it as much as she hated it only because exhaustion made everything worse for Vas. Oh, she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, complain that he wanted to spend every good day he had wrapped up in her, filling his every moment however he pleased because it pleased her, too.

But he paid for it, too.

She saw it as clear as day.

It didn’t matter how tired he was from days of a constant, unforgiving migraine that kept him awake, nothing would close his eyes if she was the thing standing in front of him. Almost like he was scared to miss something. Or maybe, like he was trying to soak up every second of them and their time together that he could. Did he imprint it all to his mind like she did to hers?

Better yet—would Vas keep his memories of them like she would always do? That wasn’t such an easy answer, but frankly, so few things about them were easy.

And I also never asked for that, Vera told herself in the back of the quiet car. She truly didn’t believe that easy love would feel the way hers did. It took effort—and yes, certainty—to choose to love a person, a man, like Vaslav Pashkov.

A man who rarely apologized even when he was wrong; the same person who kissed softly, killed quickly. He didn’t even try to teeter on the line between good and bad. The man knew which side he stood on, and had no issue with it. Unforgiving, unrepentant, and he needed to be loved in much the same way.

Or that’s what she told herself, anyhow.

“How do Americans say it,” Igor mused from the driver’s seat of the Mercedes SUV, although he didn’t pose it as a question. The first words he had spoken to her that day other than a polite hello and the confirmation that he could drive her to Noble Row. His sudden desire to chat made Vera pay attention.

Even if she was very confused.

“What?” she asked.

“The saying,” the man returned.

Vera was still drawing a blank. “I need more to go on.”

“The thoughts one, no?” Igor glanced into the rearview mirror to get Vera in his sights as he quirked his right eyebrow and added, “And the coin.”

Oh.

Finally, it clicked for Vera. Laughing a little, and earning a chuffed laugh from Igor, she asked, “Do you mean—a penny for your thoughts?”

Igor nodded, but his attention had already returned to the road ahead. “Yes, that one.”

“Is that even American?”

“Who’d know—that wasn’t the point.”

Right. Because he’d been asking—a penny for her thoughts.