25. Natalia

25

NATALIA

"I notice your baby daddy hasn't dropped you off in a while."

Abby materializes over the top of my cubicle like the Wicked Witch of the West, her eyes glimmering with a hunter's instinct. She's wearing a thin white blouse today, all the better to show off the lacy red bra underneath.

Honestly, she should just come into the office with nipple tassels. It'd be a hell of a lot more subtle.

"Trouble in paradise?" She doesn't even have the decency to pretend like she's not hopeful for that to be the case.

"Everything is fine. He hasn't been dropping me off because he's busy. And—" I stand abruptly, forcing her to back up a few inches. "—so am I."

Striding around her, I head for the copy room.

A woman who possessed a little more dignity might just leave it there. But not Abby. She's a shark and I, unwittingly, chummed the waters the day I brought Andrey into the office.

Not that I had much of a choice, of course.

"Is he picking you up today, by any chance?" Abby asks, clomping along close behind me on those ridiculous stilettos she's taken to wearing.

"No."

The copy room is empty. I use the desk in the corner to open my file and pull out the documents that I need to scan. The whole time, Abby hovers around me like a bird of prey, ready to swoop down at the slightest sign of weakness.

"Well, what about the company cocktail party next week? Are you bringing him to that?"

I throw her an impatient glare. "That's only for the senior partners."

Abby shrugs. "I'm sure they'll make an exception if I go to Mr. Ewes and ask?—"

"Would you excuse me?" She's blocking the damn copier now and I'm losing the will to be polite.

She steps out of the way with an ignorant little titter. "Maybe you could give him my number?"

I put in the first document and close the lid. "I'm not giving him anything."

"Why not?"

A dozen spiteful answers spin through my head, each and every one laced with a scathing insult.

Because he has absolutely no interest in you.

Because he deserves a woman who wants more than just his money.

Because he's not interested in another gold-digger with more boobs than personality.

Instead, what tumbles out is the truth: "Because I don't see him much anymore."

It tastes as bitter as bile coming out of my mouth. And it only makes me want to headbutt Abby all the more for making me admit it.

She smacks her glossy pink lips with unfiltered satisfaction. "You don't?"

Before I have to answer, my phone rings. I'm so desperate to get out of this trainwreck of a conversation that I answer it immediately without checking to see who's calling.

"Hello?" I wave for Abby to give me some privacy. Surprisingly, she takes the hint and skulks back to her desk.

"Hi, Nat." Kat's voice is small and nervous. Clearly, she didn't expect me to pick up.

I freeze for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should hang up or be an adult.

"H-how are you?" she squeaks into the silence.

I close my eyes. Angry as I've been with her lately, hearing her voice again makes me realize how much I've missed her.

Be an adult, it is.

"Okay, I guess."

"That's good to hear."

The silence stretches on. She doesn't say anything, and I'm certainly not about to. I pull my fresh copies out of the machine. "Well, if that's all you called to ask?—"

"No!" she yelps. "Nat, wait. Please." She sounds miserable. She sounds exactly how I feel right now.

The loneliness inside me expands tenfold.

Sure, Mila's around. And so is Yelena.

But there are moments—like right now—when neither of them counts.

Because neither of them has met Aunt Annie. They don't know that Celebration by Kool no need to follow me. Literally just a block aw—Oh. Okay. Got it. You're walking with me. Still walking. Still walking. Stiiiiill… goddammit, Leonty."

He grins. "Who're we meeting?"

"A friend."

"You don't have friends." I glare at him so hard, he flushes with regret. "Er, what I mean is…"

"Save it." I twist on my heel and resume striding in the direction of the restaurant. "Just stay out of sight, okay? She doesn't know about you people yet."

"‘Us people'?" Leonty repeats with amusement.

"My own personal boy band."

I know I'm not being fair to Leonty or any of the others.

They're not the ones ignoring me.

They're not the ones using me for my body.

They're not the ones treating me like a possession instead of a person.

In fact, all of them have been really sweet to me lately. Leonty is always kind no matter how snippy I get. Leif makes sure I have everything I need and then some. Olaf has taken to bringing me flowers in the morning for the vase I keep by my bedside. Even Anatoly has learned to smile at me like he means it, which, given where we started in the facial expression department, is leaps and bounds of improvement.

"It's Katya," I admit.

"Made up with her then, did you?"

It's not something we've ever really discussed, but Leonty's no fool. Katya's glaring absence from my life obviously signified a breakdown in our friendship.

"Sort of. Don't tell Andrey anything."

Leonty gives me a shifty look that I decide to ignore, but to his credit, he doesn't press any more.

When we approach Burning Bird, Leonty tells me he'll be hanging out by the window counter. True to his word, he saunters off to give me some privacy.

I'm waiting only a minute or two when Katya flies through the door in a camel-colored mini-skirt and a white tank. It looks like she sprinted all the way here.

"I'm here!" she announces, rushing up to the table and throwing her sweaty arms around me.

"Why are you so sweaty?"

"I ran down the street. Stupid cabbie dropped me off two blocks over." She slips into the booth opposite me. "It's so good to see you. You look great."

She's laying it on thick. But she does look legitimately happy to see me.

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me," she adds. "I was—We were—I mean, I'm just glad. Yeah. Thanks."

The last few months' worth of distance is thick right now. I'm not used to not knowing how to act around Katya. I hide my awkwardness behind the menu while she catches her breath.

"Nat?"

When I look up from the menu, Kat's looking at me with wide, earnest eyes. I know we're gonna skip right over the small talk.

"The last time we spoke face to face, you said something—" Her eyes dart around the table nervously. "—and it's stayed with me. Tortured me, really."

"What did I say?"

"You said, and I quote, ‘ I went through something that night. And I'm not sure it can be undone.' "

My throat clams up.

"Were you just fucking with me or did you mean it?"

I feel immediately guilty—but I didn't lie to her. "I…"

Kat leans forward and seizes my hands between hers. "Oh my God—does it have anything to do with the Kuznetsovs?" she asks. "Because I swear to God, Nat, I genuinely didn't believe Viktor's bullshit about his family. Crime ring, guns, drugs, all that shit—yeah fucking right, you know? It wasn't until later, until you said what you said, that I started digging into the Kuznetsovs. And I realized how wrong I was."

Her cheeks are a blotchy red now. She raises her hand to her chin and I spy the picked-to-pieces nails that she's tried to conceal under layers of bright red polish.

"You've started biting your nails again."

Too late, she tries to hide her hands under the table.

"Because of me?" I ask.

She sighs heavily. "No. Because of me . Because I've been an idiot lately and I'm woman enough to admit it."

"Since when?"

She deflates for a second. Then I smile.

Our eyes meet, for perhaps the first time in months. She puts a hand over her heart and sighs in relief.

Just like that, we're friends again.