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Saint and Pavel look at me with interest.
“Seeing as this is our last night here, how about I cook dinner?”
“A last supper?” Pavel questions, which seems to be quite an appropriate thing to say.
“I suppose you could say that,” I reply. Ironically, Alek will be facing his foes tomorrow. We all know he won’t leave there alive, which is why Pavel’s comment is fitting.
The thought of him going in there, knowing he will die, still saddens me, but this is his call. He knows how we all feel. But there is no changing his mind.
“Besides, it’s the least I can do to thank Larisa for her hospitality.” I smile at her.
She grunts in response, hinting she isn’t doing this for me.
Sara enters, giggling as Max trails behind her. She freezes, surprised to see us. When she sheepishly meets my eyes, I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this earlier. She likes Max. And from the way Max hovers close to her, I dare say he reciprocates.
Once upon a time, Max had a thing for Zoey, but it seems he’s moved on to bigger and better things. I still don’t like him, but he’s proven to be loyal. Besides, anyone who can make Sara blush that way can’t be half bad.
Coming to a stand, I pocket my passport. “I was thinking of cooking dinner tonight for everyone,” I explain to Sara.
“Oh, that sounds like a lovely idea. Maybe I could help?” she offers, wringing her hands in front of her.
Although trivial, the prospect of doing something normal with my friend ebbs away at this heaviness weighing me down.
“I’d love that.” However, I realize I should confirm it’s okay with Larisa as it is her kitchen. “Would it be all right if we cooked dinner?”
By the way Pavel looks down at this mom, smiling, it’s evident he loves her dearly. I wonder if he misses his kids. But I suppose now that he isn’t enslaved to Alek, he can see them more. He too can start over again. It’s a fresh start for us all. But no matter how hard I try to rationalize Alek’s death, I still feel like a horrible human being.
Larisa says something in Russia, which has Saint and Pavel bursting into husky chuckles. I have no idea what she just said, but she clarifies a moment later.
“Suit yourself,” she says with a thick Russian accent, which startles me because I just assumed she didn’t speak any English. “But no burgers for dinner.” I open but soon close my mouth as I have no idea what to say. “I watchMan Versus Food.”
“I, um, okay. No, of course not, ma’am,” I finally settle on because her light tone reveals she just made a joke.
“That’s a little stereotypical, ????.” Pavel wraps his arm around Larisa’s shoulders, still laughing. She leans into her son’s side, grinning.
And just like that, something gives, and the tension lessens.
“If you need anything, let me know. But the kitchen is well stocked,” Pavel says to me. He kisses his mother’s brow before reaching for the suitcases. “Saint asked my mom to buy a few essentials for you three because you can’t check in empty luggage.”
Sara blinks quickly because this is news to her. I will fill her in once we’re alone.
Saint rises from the tattered recliner, hinting they’re going to look over their loot. It seems he’s thought of everything.
“Unless you need me, I’m going to pack.”
Pack for our new life. I gulp at the thought.
“I’ve got it,” I reply, nodding. “Go ahead. I’ll pack after dinner.”
I want to suggest he take a nap before dinner because he looks exhausted, but I don’t. His fatigue won’t be cured with a simple siesta. His soul will forever be weary because of what I’ve asked him to do. Or rather, not to do, and that’s fight with Alek.
Saint walks over and grips the back of my neck, drawing us nose to nose. His exhale seems to be heavy with relief. “You’re going home.”
“We’regoing home,” I correct, cupping his cheeks.
He nods slowly, but I’m not convinced.
Now isn’t the time to address it, and honestly, I just want to focus on something mundane like cooking dinner. The doom and gloom will always be waiting in the wings for me. We break apart, and I watch as he takes the handle of one suitcase and ambles down the hallway with it.
