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But Niall is more than that now, and I’ve heard Caterina say more than once that Saoirse is going to have to give her the respect she’s due, or else there will be more upheaval at the Kings’ table—upheaval which none of them can stand at this point. There’s been too much already.
Maggie is waiting for us in the lobby of the restaurant, as I’d hoped, wearing a fitted white bodysuit and slim black cigarette pants with flats, her brown curly hair wild around her face and only the barest makeup on. Still, she glows with a vitality that makes her look stunningly beautiful even next to the other, glossier women. She’s one of the happiest, most energetic—and also brashest—women I’ve ever met, and to be completely frank, I adore her. If there was anyone in the group I’d want to be better friends with than I already am, it would be her.
“Sasha!” She greets me with an excitement that makes my heart lift, giving me a quick around-the-waist hug as the others file in. “I’m so glad you’re here too.”
“I always come to these meetings when we fly in for them,” I say with a laugh, as if there’s some chance I might have missed it.
“Well, one of these days, you’re gonna find yourself a man, and then you’re gonna have better things to do,” Maggie says with a cackle and a wiggle of her eyebrows, much to Saoirse’s consternation.
“I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon,” I murmur, as Saoirse returns to giving the impeccably dressed hostess her name for our reservation. “Maybe not ever.”
“Why not?” Maggie eyes me. “You’re gorgeous and barely in your twenties. The world is your oyster.”
“It’s—complicated.” I press my lips together, not wanting to elaborate, and Maggie gets the hint. She’s brash, but she’s not rude, and she knows a little of my past. It hasn’t all been laid out, but she’s aware of why I have a seat on the board—that I was a victim of human trafficking, and that I escaped it solely because my “worth” as merchandise was stolen by a man who was meant to be guarding me.
A man whose brains I saw splattered across the warehouse docks shortly after.
She doesn’t know the finer details—no one does, really, except Caterina and my therapist—but she’s never pried. Still, I know if I ever needed an ear, I’d have it. And her casual approach to my dating makes me feel a little lighter about the whole thing.
I can only imagine what she’d have to say if I told her who Ireallyhave a crush on.
Dinner is, as expected, incredible. We’re treated to the chef’s choice menu with wine pairings, all brought out by an honest-to-God sommelier, who describes every bottle in glowing detail before pouring it into our glasses. I don’t have the refined palate of some of the others—something Maggie and I joke about from our spot sitting side by side at the back of the circular velvet booth around the huge, round table—but the wine is rich and velvety, and better than anything I’ve ever had before, even at home or at the various mob family events I’ve been to in the past year. The food is even better—scallops lightly grilled in butter, lamb carpaccio, grilled and glazed beef hearts on a skewer, thin slices of duck braised in orange, and the list of small plates that come across our table goes on and on. Dessert is a cheese plate and a variety of extravagantly plated sweets, and next to me, Maggie moans as she takes a bite of dark chocolate mousse, puffed out in an airy bubble on her tiny china plate.
“Forget what I said earlier,” she says earnestly, taking another bite. “With food like this, who needs to date? I’m good for tonight.”
Saoirse rolls her eyes, but I can see the tiny grin at the corners of her lips. Maggie mellows her out a little, as does the wine, making her less princess-y and more a member of the group. She and Caterina are talking quietly about something, and though Ana hasn’t said very many words to Caterina tonight, they’re at least not stiffly ignoring each other the way they were at Niall and Isabella’s wedding.
When we finish dinner, we head back to the estate and sit around the living room chatting. Maggie went home, citing a parent-teacher meeting tomorrow before she has to be at our board meeting, but the rest of us curl up on the soft, plush couches in the main downstairs living room, sipping on glasses of another bottle of wine Saoirse opened.
“It’s been insane since Sean was born,” she’s saying quietly to Caterina and Sofia. “Even with the nanny, I feel like this is the first time I’ve had a moment to breathe to myself. And Connor already wants another one just as soon as we can try again—”
“Oh hell no,” Sofia says with a laugh, taking another sip of wine. “I told Luca two more years, at the least. He got his son, and I want time to just enjoy with Luca and Gio before I have another baby. Most women my age aren’t even thinking about babies yet. I certainly didn’t think I would be right now—or that I’d have one. I know the two of you expected it—” She gestures at Caterina and Saoirse. “But I most definitely did not. And it’s been an adjustment. As much as I love Gio, I wish I’d gotten more time just Luca and I first.”
Listening to them talk, I can’t help but wonder how I’d feel if I were in their position. I spend every day helping Caterina with the children, but they’re notmine. At the end of the day, even if Anika, Yelena, Dimitri, and Viktoria feel like family, I’m always very clear on the fact that they’re not my own children—more like little siblings or nieces and nephews. I can’t quite picture having myownchild, one I gave birth to myself, any more than I can imagine the man that I’d have that baby with.
The truth is, I can’t imagine my future outside of the Andreyev house at all. And nights like these, with this group of women that all have their own, very vibrant lives, it’s only underscored that much more.
Something is going to have to change at some point. It’s been a year, but my life can’t be only this forever. I know that.
I just don’t know how to find the will to move forward.
9
SASHA
The meeting the next morning is around lunchtime, with a local deli catering in for us while we sit around the long conference table, discussing Saoirse’s newest initiatives. She has plans for another fundraising gala, which she’ll want us all in attendance for. She asks Maggie to discuss with the school board about not only ways they might be willing to contribute to the fund she’s setting up, but also to discuss what ways that fund might best be used within the city.
“We want to set up two separate funds,” she explains, gesturing to the PowerPoint she has up on the projector. “One on a more macro level, to help victims of human trafficking both on a national and global scale. On a smaller scale, we also want to look into ways to help them directly with housing and education, particularly anyone affected in our Mid-Atlantic or Northeast regions. And a micro level, we want to develop a fund to help with issues that women and children at lower income levels are facing here, in Boston.”
“I can help more on the micro level here,” Maggie says from where she’s sitting, back in her usual off-duty uniform of jeans, a white t-shirt, and boots. “I’m pretty familiar with what areas of the city need the most help, and we can partner with some of the Catholic charities, too. They’re familiar with the Kings, of course, and they’d be glad to help the wife of one of the McGregors with her initiatives.”
All it takes is the mention ofCatholicto drag my thoughts back to Max. I’d managed, despite all the wine I’d had last night, to get him out of my head enough to have a decent night’s sleep last night. Now his handsome face swims back into my head, making my chest ache with missing him.
I’ve been gone for a day. Don’t be so pathetic.
I tear my focus back to the meeting at hand, answering some of Saoirse’s questions about what I think might be most helpful for the trafficking victim fund, but a lot of the meeting passes over my head. It’s not the biggest deal, since I’m there more as a voice for a specific purpose than one of the most important members of the board. Still, I feel bad for letting myself be so distracted anyway.
“We do need to talk about something else,” Caterina says finally, the edge to her voice saying clearly that she knows it will be a point of contention.
