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I give her a pointed look. “I thought we agreed you’d drop that.”
“Oh, Misha,” she says with a light sigh, “we both know that was never going to happen.”
“Aurora—”
All of a sudden, the apartment door swings open from the inside. Before us stands another young woman with vibrant red hair and pretty blue eyes. In many ways, she looks just like Aurora except—in my humble opinion—she’s nowhere near as beautiful. Are they sisters, perhaps?
“I thought I heard voices out here,” the woman says, immediately giving me a suspicious look from top to bottom. “And who might this be?”
Aurora smiles. “Cee, this is my… uh, boss, Mikhail Antonov. Mikhail, this is my roommate, Charlotte.”
My ears prick up. Sothisis where Aurora got inspiration for her made-up persona at the party. “Charlotte? How lovely to finally meet you in person. Aurora talks so much about you.”
Charlotte’s eyes light up. “Is that so? I mean, why wouldn’t she? I’m awesome.”
Aurora rolls her eyes, but I sense nothing but affection behind it. “I had to stay at work longer than expected, so Mikhail wanted to make sure I got home okay.”
“That’s so sweet! And they say chivalry is dead.”
I nod my head once. “This is where I leave you. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Oh, don’t go!” Charlotte says, grasping my arm with a surprising amount of strength. “I just finished making spaghetti. Why don’t you come in for a bite?”
Aurora clears her throat. “Charlotte, it’s after midnight. I’m sure Mikhail has better things to—”
“I could eat,” I say, stepping into the apartment. The look on Aurora’s face is priceless, equal parts baffled and endearingly shy.
The last time I was here, I was in too much of a rush to take in the surroundings. It’s cramped but cozy. The furniture is all mismatched, and there’s a good amount of clutter on every available surface. Books stacked like an awkward jigsaw on their overloaded shelves, nail polish bottles left out on the coffee table in the living room, several houseplants in desperate need of sunlight or water or both.
It’s easy to parse what belongs to Charlotte and what belongs to Aurora. Flashy articles of clothing are piled on the couch in need of folding, but I can tell they belong to the roommate because of their zany colors and patterns. Even though they look to be her size, I honestly can’t picture Aurora wearing the neon pink number with the bold cutouts. It’d be sexy as fuck, but I can’t see it happening of her own free will.
I’m vaguely aware of the women chatting about their day—mainly Charlotte pelting Aurora with all manner of questions—while I examine the picture frames nailed to the walls. Most of them seem to belong to Charlotte. Some of them are with her and some friends, her and her family, one particularly entertaining image of her sunburnt to a near crips at Disneyland.
There are only a few pictures of Aurora, however. These are the ones I gravitate to, my curiosity drawing me to them like a magnet. I get a glimpse of what her life was like as a child. In one picture, she’s a young girl with an unfortunate haircut complete with choppy bangs, a gap in her smile where she’s missing a tooth. In another, it appears Aurora’s at some sort of high school computer lab. She beams at the camera, presenting a simple line of code on a clunky old computer.
The one that really captures my attention is the one of her and another woman on the day of her graduation. She’s in a cap and gown, proudly brandishing her high school degree to the camera. The lady beside her shares many of her features—same red hair, same eyes, same smile. I’m not a gambling man, but I’d wager this is her mother.
It’s my mother’s ring, Mikhail. To remember her by.
The absence of a father in any of the pictures is also glaringly obvious.
“Come on over, Mikhail,” Charlotte says, gesturing to the free seat beside her. “I want to hear all about how Aurora’s doing at work. She rarely tells me anything. Tell me all the juicy gossip.”
Aurora sighs. “There’s nothing to tell, Cee. My days are pretty standard.”
“Except when she saves my servers from the brink of collapse,” I say as I take my seat.
Charlotte’s eyes widen in surprise. “Youwhat? Why didn’t you tell me? You make your job sound so humdrum.”
Aurora’s cheeks turn a light pink. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Quite the contrary,” I state as Charlotte sets down a plate full of spaghetti. “I owe her a great debt. She may very well have saved my company.”
“Luka did most of the work,” Aurora insists.
“He tells me otherwise.”
“He’s being modest.”
