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“Do not take me to the hospital. I have the meds already.” She sat up a little—no need for a wasted trip to the doctor.
“And they make you so loopy I thought you were drunk.” He was sitting far too close to her for her liking, or she liked it far too much.
“I do not get drunk.”
“Yes, you do, Tess Thorn.”
“No, I have not been drunk in years. I drink, but I do not get drunk anymore.”
“You were drunk the night we, umm.” His ears actually turned red.
“The night we had sex, Mathias. I was buzzed, not drunk.”
His expression said he didn’t believe her. “I watched you drink a crazy amount of alcohol.”
“Nothing I could not handle, Mathias. I can handle my alcohol,” she insisted, though it always sounded bad. Maybe it was better for him to think she was drunk.
“Sounds like a problem.” He didn’t even act like he believed her.
“Just a fact. Were you drunk that night?” She had known he was drinking but really didn’t want it to just be a drunken hook-up.
He tried to change the subject. “I was buzzed, maybe just buzzed enough. Do you want more water?”
Watching him all nervous talking about sex and being drunk, she wanted to laugh at him but didn’t. She didn’t want to make him angry and leave. It was nice having him here. When he was friendly, she liked him a lot.
“What is your tattoo of? I admit I looked at it when you were sleeping. I saw it that night too, but I was thinking of other things.”
Looking down at the spot under the blanket that would be her hip, she reached out with the hand he wasn’t holding and touched it over the blanket. It had been there for years, and she barely noticed it anymore. It was just a part of her now.
“It is my maiden name in traditional Russian. I got it when my divorce came through, and I did not take the name back. I felt that I needed a reminder of who I actually am. Do not tell my parents; they will kill me,” she said. The only one in her family who knew was Natasha, but she had never actually shown it to her.
He smirked. “Now it will probably be the first thing out of my mouth when I meet them. What does it say? I cannot read Russian.”
“Aleksandrova. As in Son of Alexander, but the A at the end makes it ‘daughter of.’ Thorn rolls off the tongue a little easier,” she answered.
“Not your tongue. You make it sound sexy.” He was looking at her mouth as he said it, making her wonder how she had said it that made just her name sound sexy.
“Thank you.” On the nightstand, her phone went off.
“Take that. I will make you something to eat.” He handed her the phone and left the room.
Looking at the phone, she saw it was her sister, Ilya. Answering it, she tried to remember to speak in English since her sister would mostly be speaking in Russian. Tess always had to remember that Ilya was sixteen when she had emigrated, not eight like Tess. It was harder for her to learn a new language. The two years they had spent in England waiting for visas didn’t help her sister either. In greeting, she said, “Ilya.”
“Terezilya, how are you?” her sister always called her by the name their mom had given her at birth, never the Americanized version Tess preferred.
“I am fine, just a small case of hives. I am over it now,” she said to relieve her sister’s worries. Natasha would have told on her, even from this far away. Ilya liked to mother hen Tess, and she usually let her. But sometimes it wasn’t needed. Like now.
“Natasha told me. You should have called.” Her sister sounded hurt.
“I am sorry; I was on the meds. You know they knock me out.”
“How did you get into wheat dust?” Ilya accused her as if she did it on purpose.
“It was a mistake. I was helping a friend.” Tess hadn’t told her sister about the auction.
“You need to be more careful,” Ilya replied as Mathias walked into the room and grabbed the water glass from her nightstand.
“Stop treating me like one of your kids,” Tess said, watching Mathias’s butt as he walked out of the room.
