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We eat in companionable silence, me making sure that Anika and Yelena finish their breakfasts while Caterina feeds the babies. Once we’re finished, and the girls have been sent off to school, I excuse myself to go up and pack for the trip we’re leaving on later today.
I won’t see Max for a few days.My disappointment feels palpable, but I tell myself that it might be for the best. It’s clear that the relationship is becoming lopsided, and maybe space will do me good.
“Need help?” Caterina lets herself into my room, opening my closet to glance through what’s hanging up there. “We’ll be in Boston for a few days—maybe pack something for a nice dinner? Saoirse mentioned a restaurant opening she wanted to go to, the kind of place with a dress code.” She flicks through my dresses, pulling out a silky green tank dress. “You could wear this with your new shoes.”
I take it, carefully slipping it into a garment bag before reaching for the studded sandals and putting them in my suitcase. “You really didn’t have to do so much for my birthday, you know.” I glance sideways at Caterina. “It was just a day.”
“I know.” She smiles ruefully at me as she sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s just—I know you’ve never had anyone make a big deal out of a birthday for you. Last year when you turned nineteen, we barely knew each other. Everything was in upheaval, and not long after that—”
Not long after that, Caterina and Viktor had gone on a business trip, only for Caterina to be kidnapped by rival Bratva members that turned out to be working with one of Viktor’s top brigadiers to betray him. Those events had eventually led to all of us ending up in a safe house in Russia, which in turn—
I shiver, despite the warmth of the room. I don’t want to think about the fact that I’d turned nineteen shortly after the worst day of my life, only for things to escalate exponentially not long after. “It’s fine,” I tell her simply. “Like you said, we barely knew each other then. I was just another maid. But things are different now. The past doesn’t matter.”
Caterina presses her lips together, toying with a bit of embroidery on the bed’s duvet. “Maybe not when it comes to how you and I feel about each other now,” she says softly. “I feel like we’re closer than friends now, like sisters, and I know you feel the same. We’ve been through so much together. But the past matters for other things. Like your future.”
I can feel myself tense as I shove my makeup bag into my suitcase. “What do you mean?” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible, but I can’t help the flicker of fear in the pit of my stomach. I can’t stand the thought that Caterina might not want me here as long as I’d hoped to be, that she wants to change things. “I’m happy with how things are here.”
Something flickers in Caterina’s eyes. “Of course,” she says gently. “But I can’t imagine you want to be a nanny forever. You must have something else you want to do—that you think about.”
I shake my head. “Not really.” It’s the truth—when my therapist has encouraged me to think about college or other job paths, I can’t think of what I want to do. I can’t imagine a degree that I really want to get, what could make me want to sit through hours of lectures instead of being actively engaged with something or someone, like I am when I’m taking care of the children. There’s always something to do, to teach, to enjoy with them. There are rarely moments for my mind to preoccupy itself with anything other than what they need or want to do—which I know is a defense mechanism in and of itself, a way for me to avoid thinking about the past. But it’s not as if it'sharminganyone. “I love my life here. I love Anika and Yelena and the babies. I’ve loved being here, and I’m looking forward to seeing them grow up, helping you—”
“Sasha, I’m not kicking you out,” Caterina says with a small laugh. I realize my voice rose anxiously, as if I was worried about exactly that. “I’m not saying anything is changing. I’m just saying—you should think about what else you want, when you’renotspending time with us. You should think about taking more time off, going out, and meeting people. Even if you’re happy here, you don’t have to forego love and a family of your own.” She lets out a slow breath, still toying with the embroidery. “You know I’ve had my own struggles with men. You know my first husband hurt me in a lot of ways—including the ones you’re familiar with. And you know what the men in Russia did to me—what Alexei did to me.”
I do. Over time, Caterina talked to me about it, though it took time for her to fully admit what happened to her on the nights that Alexei took her away. I know she’s suffered the same things I have—worse, in some ways.
“I know it takes time to heal,” she says quietly. “I was lucky in that after Russia, I didn’t have to date, if I wanted to be with someone. I was already married. Viktor made it easier to heal, with him there to help me. It was much harder after Franco, when I had to marry someone new. I know how it feels to want to go your whole life without a man ever putting his hands on you again—and I know how it feels for your only experience to be with someone who doesn’t care for your pleasure.” She hesitates. “But it wasn’t always by force, Franco and I. I don’t know what it feels like for the one time you’ve been with someone to have been such an outright violation. I can’t imagine how hard it must be—”
“It’s fine.” I swallow hard, afraid I might start to cry. “Really—I—we don’t have to talk about this.”
“The longer you let it stay that way, the more you withdraw, the harder it will be.” Caterina looks at me, her gaze clearly worried. “You can have both, Sasha. You can be here with us, helping us, being a part of our family—and have one of your own one day, if that’s what you want. But right now, you seem so lonely. I can understand why. But I don’t want that for you forever.”
I know she’s right, and it makes my heart ache. “It’s so hard to know how to find someone I can trust,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know where to begin. So many men—” I suck in a breath, remembering last night. “Like that man, Adrik, who talked to me at the party—”
Caterina’s mouth twists as if she’s tasted something unpleasant. “Trust me, Viktor will be having a word with him,” she says firmly. “And he won’t enjoy it. But Sasha, not everyone out there is like that. Especially men your age. You don’t have to date someone in our circle—in fact, I’d highly advise against it. They’re the kind of men who will keep you safe—but in a way, I’m not sure you’d like.” She pauses, rubbing her hands on her jean-clad thighs as she lets out a sigh. “We’ve never talked about it, Sasha. But the way you look at Max, and the way he looks at you—”
My head snaps up as my heart flips in my chest. “How?” I ask, knowing the question is faster, my voice breathier than it should be. “How does he look at me?”
A hint of sympathy crosses Caterina’s face. “Like he wants you,” she says simply. But before I can feel the leap of hope that her words nearly give me, she keeps going. “But nothing is ever going to come of it, Sasha.”
I think she sees the disappointment on my face, because she keeps talking. “I’ve known Max for quite a while now,” she says gently. “He’s a good man, Sasha—and heisa man. He has needs and desires, the same as any other. But he chooses to force himself to ignore them. No matter the situation, no matter the opportunities, he makes himself resist temptation, even though almost everyone around him would argue that it doesn’t matter anymore. But it matters tohim. And I can’t see anything that would make me think that will ever change for him. He thinks—” she hesitates. “He thinks it will make up for things he’s done. That night in Russia—”
My heart stops for a moment in my chest. “What happened in Russia?”
Caterina’s face goes carefully blank. “That’s not for me to say,” she says slowly. “But I was there, when they killed Alexei. You weren’t. I saw what they did to him. It—that kind of thing stays with you, Sasha. Be glad you didn’t see it.”
I think she meant for that to put me off, to make me feel differently about Max. But it doesn’t. In other men, the idea that they’ve done violenceisoffputting, terrifying even. But in Max, it only makes me feel, even more so than I already do, that he would protect me no matter the cost. That I can be safe with him.
“You need to let any hope of that go,” Caterina says gently, as if she can read my thoughts on my face—and maybe she can. “Max is a good man, a handsome man, and you’re far from the first girl to want him, Sasha. But he’s turned all the others down. He’s not going to break that vow for anyone.” She smiles at me sadly. “I don’t mean to hurt you. But you’re not going to be the one to change that. I’m only telling you this, so it doesn’t hurt more, later—and so that maybe the two of you can continue to be friends. I think his friendship and guidance has been good for you.”
She might not have meant to hurt me, but the words sting—because she’s right, of course. I’ve fantasized that out of all the women Max has met, I would be the one to finally make him give up on his insistent celibacy, that I would be the one he couldn’t resist. It makes me feel small and childish to admit it, foolish to think that I’d be so different than anyone else.
“There are good men out there,” Caterina says reassuringly. “If or when you choose to pursue, that is up to you, Sasha. But you don’t need to feel as if there’s no one out there who can make you feel safe, or whole, or loved.”
I want to believe her. I really do. But I can’t imagine it.
And that seems to be the stumbling block that keeps me from going any further.
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