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“A mistake that’s resulted in you having a son asPakhan,” I remind her. “We both know things would have turned out very differently if I’d been in the country.”
She sniffs and stands, too proud to admit I’m right. I would have died alongside my father and brothers. She would have been shoved aside like an old relic, left to remarry or fend for herself.
“Dinner is at six,” I tell her.
“We always eat at eight.”
“Dinner is at six,” I repeat firmly. “If that’s too early for you, you’re welcome to eat alone. Or elsewhere.”
My mother isn’t one to respond to subtle cues or gentle nudges. But I’ve never thrown my weight around with her before. I’ve never had to. Our relationship is basically this: her breezing onto the estate whenever it suits her schedule, bossing her former staff around for a couple of days, until she returns to the shopping and the charity events and however else she spends her time.
We’re both comfortable with the dynamic. For all her flaws, she’s still my mother—not to mention, the only immediate family I have left. That used to be the case at least. Not any longer.
“Fine. I will see you at six.”
I nod, and she leaves without another word.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
LYLA
Dinner is awkward. I didn’t realize how comfortable it had become between me, Nick, and Leo until a fourth chair was filled at the table.
Vera Morozov is about as welcoming as an iceberg. Based on the very little I know about Nick’s father, I’m surprised he has any inclination toward affection.
Vera seems as surprised as I am by Nick’s enthusiasm as we eat, her eyes bouncing between Nick and Leo as they chat like best friends who have been separated for months. She says little while picking at the roast beef that’s served with stewed potatoes and carrots, and what she does is spoken in Russian.
I’m guessing Vera must be near or over fifty, but she looks much younger. There’s no trace of white or gray in her dark hair, and her pale skin doesn’t show a single wrinkle. In the hour and a half I’ve spent in her company, I don’t think I’ve seen her expression change once.
Maybe perpetual impassivity is the secret to not aging.
After dinner ends, Vera retires upstairs. I expect Nick to look upset by her rapid absence, but he doesn’t. He appears more relieved by it. Even slightly amused.
Leo asks to be excused shortly after Vera leaves. He doesn’t have any homework due tomorrow, so I’m sure he’s eager to play on the tablet he has for “school” or finish reading the fantasy series he’s in the middle of.
All of a sudden, it’s just me and Nick. We survey each other from opposite ends of the long table that takes up most of the formal dining room, like two generals preparing for battle. Except I think we’re on the same side.
“Nothing new about Dmitriy?”
Nick’s lips twist into a wry version of a smile. “I won’t forget to tell you when there is, Lyla. I know that’s the only reason you’re here.”
I say nothing to that, immediately regretting the question. Because, yes, that’s the easy explanation. And I don’t want him thinking we’re freeloading indefinitely. There are nights, like tonight, where it’s especially obvious how much Leo and I have disrupted his life.
I sip some wine, just for something to do. I should have excused myself when Leo did.
“Did you finish college?”
I blink at Nick, taken totally off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry,” he apologizes, obviously hearing the annoyance in my voice. “I didn’t mean any offense. I’ve just wondered…you know, where you ended up.”
I don’t think many—any—days have passed in the last nine years when I haven’t thought of Nick at least once. His disappearance was a nagging puzzle, a mystery. And he left me with a permanent reminder of himself.
But it’s never really occurred to me that Nick might have wondered about me. He chose to leave, and intentional decisions are different from forced outcomes. And now that I know the truth about why he left and what he came back to, I figured he’s been too busy pulling triggers and fighting and shipping guns to give me so much as a passing thought.
There’s something familiar and foreign between us. We’ve both changed, grown, evolved. But at our cores, we’re still the same people we were when we first met.
“Um, no. I didn’t finish. My scholarship covered tuition, but…babies are expensive.”
