“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, taking another bite of spaghetti. She doesn’t push, but I can tell she’s dying to.
“Don’t get any ideas, Gina,” I tell her, which just makes Dima laugh.
“I’m serious. I don’t want you thinking things that aren’t there.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, trying to look innocent and failing.
I let it go, but I make a mental note to keep an eye on Gina and her dealings with Moira. The last thing I need is someone trying to play matchmaker. God, Moira would hate that. The rest of the meal is spent laughing and chatting about Sergei’s newest milestones and whether or not Aleksei and Jamie should adopt one dog or two. When we’re all too stuffed to move and Sergei is happily snoring in his swing, we all stick around to help clean up before calling it a night.
“Thanks for coming.” Gina gives me a hug and says, “You’re still able to watch Sergei on Sunday for us?”
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Thanks, you’re the best, Nikolai.”
“Hey,” Dima says, picking her up and making her laugh. “I thought I was best.”
I laugh and shout out a “Bye!” when he pulls her in for a kiss that doesn’t look like it’ll be ending anytime soon.
“See ya, Nikolai,” Aleksei hollers before getting into his car.
I wave at them both before getting into my own car and driving home. The silence grates on my nerves after leaving Dima’s, so I click on one of my playlists and turn the volume up. American music is something I continue to be amazed with. I have a soft spot for the ‘80s, and I credit it to helping me learn English. It’s a lot more fun than working through a boring textbook, especially when you pair it with all the great movies from that decade. I’ve tried to get Dima to switch the music in the Arctic Fox, but he refuses to budge, says the college kids want newer music, and since those annoying shits drop so much money every weekend, we need to give them what they want. I’m still trying to talk him into an ‘80s night, though.
When I walk into my empty house, I seriously debate whether or not I should get a dog like Aleksei and Jamie. It’d be nice to have someone greet me at the door, someone who’s happy to see me. I push the thought aside when I think about how little time I actually spend at home. It wouldn’t be fair to get a dog and then just leave them alone all the time.
“That’s all right, Mila. I’ve still got you, haven’t I?”
I eye the wilted spider plant that’s supposedly one of the easiest plants in the world to keep alive and bring it to the sink.
“Nothing a little bit of water can’t fix,” I tell her in Russian.
After putting the planter by one of the large windows in the kitchen so she’ll get lots of light tomorrow, I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. I expect to toss and turn all night, but as soon as my head hits the pillow I feel myself start to drift away. The nightmare that follows is one I’ve had a million times over the years. I’m back to being eighteen with a bloody knife in my hand and so goddamn scared I can barely think. Fear wraps itself around me, sinking into the marrow of my bones and consuming me until I wake with a gasp. I lay frozen in place, convinced that if I pull the covers back, I’ll be covered in blood again just like I had been that night so long ago in Moscow.
After a few minutes, my breathing returns to normal and my heart rate slows down to a non-heart-attack level. I lay there, too exhausted to move until the sky starts to lighten and I drag my ass out of bed. There’s only one thing that’s going to make this day tolerable. Knowing Aleksei wakes up at the crack of dawn for his workouts, I send him a quick text to see if he wants to meet at the diner for breakfast.
When I get hisFuck yeah!text, I try and wake myself up with a lukewarm shower and a cup of coffee before getting back into my car. We’ve been eating at Barb’s Diner for years now, and I’ve yet to find another place that offers a breakfast that can even come close to competing with Barb’s. She’s one of the few people in this city who never treated us like a bunch of Russian thugs, and I’ve never forgotten that.
Aleksei’s red car is already parked out front, so I slide in beside his and go inside. Barb’s face lights up when she sees me and comes over for a quick hug. She’s taken to mothering us a bit, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Any orphan would.
“You’re in here early.” Her blue eyes run over me suspiciously. “Please tell me you haven’t been out partying all night. You’re way too old for that, Nikolai.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say with a laugh. “No, just woke up early and couldn’t get the idea of your amazing breakfast out of my mind.”
She gives me a big smile and smacks my arm gently. “You’re just trying to butter me up for extra bacon.”
“Is it working?”
She laughs and shakes her head as she walks off, calling over her shoulder, “You know it always does.”
I laugh and make my way to the corner booth that Aleksei is in. He’s already ordered us coffee, and I give a grateful sigh when I take a drink.
“I ordered you your usual,” he says, leaning back against the padded booth and eyeing me. “Rough night?”
“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”
“Thinking about a certain Irish lass?”