She’s wearing a tank top and a blue jean vest with shorts, something I would wear in the summer, but it bothers me that she’s sitting out here inthatoutfit when she could just be sitting inside instead.
I frown while staring at my cup.It’s hot out here. Why wouldn’t she wear shorts?
“Oh, the basil is really coming in,” Zoya comments when Viktoria shuffles by with a pot. “I could make that basil chicken I used to make years ago.”
Pavel nods without looking up from his phone. “We have lemongrass for it, too.”
“Yeah, Daddy always liked the lemongrass on it. You did too.” She taps her chin. “Do you still grow the sage?”
“Of course.”
She nods her approval and reaches for her cup. “God, we used to destroy your mother’s plants trying to make—What the hell was it again?”
He turns his head. “Our failed attempts at bottling perfume?”
She tosses her head back to laugh. And it makes my stomach twist to see a smile ghost Pavel’s lips. I offer a polite smile when she looks at me, but I know the smile doesn’t reach my eyes.
“He and I used to sneak up to the garden and get into all sorts of crap,” she explains.
I look at my husband. The nostalgic grin on his face leaves my heart lurching fearfully in my chest, and I huddle into my seat a bit, trying to hide behind my teacup as I raise it shakily to my lips.
Zoya shakes her head. “We almost set fire to the trees, Pasha.”
I blink.Pasha?
“She almost had a heart attack,” Pavel recounts. “And Viktoria had to grab the fire extinguisher. Isn’t that right, Zoyechka?”
I’m startled.That sounds so much like what he calls me.
Viktoria rolls her eyes as she shuffles back toward the door. She’s panting and fanning herself, but the sound of amusement in her voice is unmistakable. She says something in Russian that prompts a response from Pavel.
And then from Zoya.
I shrink deeper into my seat, feeling like a stranger in my own home. The rumbling lilt of Russian reminds me that Iama stranger, that I know none of the things that they instinctively know, and that there will always be a gulf between myself and the father of my child.
I’m trying to be polite, to keep up, to smile and all that, but it’s hard. All I have are the nicknames that they’ve thrown in my direction. I don’t even know if they’re talking about me.
Irritation floods my system.
I hate this.
I hate the feeling of it, knowing that these two are far more familiar than I could ever be with Pavel in such a short amount of time. I’ve been with him for weeks.
Zoya has known him foryears.
What could I possibly do for him that she hasn’t already done?
And in that moment, when my eyes land on Zoya, I feel another surge of emotion—a familiar dark beast stirs to life in my chest.Kill. Kill. Kill.
A chill rushes through me in spite of the oppressive summer heat. I’m ready to leave the table, but I don’t want to lose this battle. I have no desire to give in to the silly thoughts in my head.
So what? They know each other, I think.It doesn’t mean he isn’t my husband.
I’ve heard them share stories in the past two days. I’ve heard them laugh. This isn’t anything new. Old friends do this. Willow and I would be the same way if we hadn’t been around each other for a while.
But when Pavel smiles at Zoya, joy seems to reach his eyes.
And each time I see it, my heart drops into my stomach.