17. Natalia

17

NATALIA

"Nice try, Natalia—you've been spotted."

I was headed back to my room, but then I heard a key in the front door. I thought maybe I could slink back into the kitchen, wait him out, and then run off to hide in my room without being spotted. But those dreams have been well and truly shot to hell.

Which leaves me with no choice but to circle back around the corner and face him.

"Hi."

His gaze drops to the bags of chips, cookies, gummy bears, and chocolate-covered pretzels I'm cradling in my arms. "Hungry?"

"Shut up."

I suppose I can't avoid him forever. Though I tried—successfully—for the last week.

Avoiding his gaze like the plague, I clear my throat. "If you'll excuse me?—"

"Have you given any thought to—" I feel my hackles rise in anticipation of the question that's been the very reason I've been avoiding him so thoroughly. Well, that and the whole we had angry sex we never should've had debacle. But he saves himself from my wrath by finishing with a totally different question. "—visiting your aunt?"

"Oh."

He raises his eyebrows, probably wondering why I'm gawking at him without replying. In my defense, he looks unbelievable in blue. The stretch of the material across his chest doesn't hurt, either.

Also in my defense, avoiding him has the annoying side effect of making me forget about his ungodly hotness. Which means, every time I find myself face-to-face with him after prolonged Andrey Abstinence, it's like being hit with a blinding light after days in the dark.

"I just thought she might appreciate a visit from you. You haven't seen her since the dinner."

The Dinner. He doesn't need to say anymore. We all know which disaster he's referring to. Kudos to him for mentioning it without so much as a flinch.

But that's the difference between Andrey and myself. He has no problem being a jerk, I think bitterly.

"I didn't realize I was allowed out of the house," I remind him with an edge in my voice.

"As long as you're properly accompanied, I have no problem with it."

I have half a mind to tell him to stick his suggestion where the sun don't shine. But I can't pass up the chance to visit Aunt Annie. Much less the opportunity to get out of the manor for a little while.

"Fine. I'll take Misha with me."

A part of me almost wishes Andrey would push back just so that I have an excuse to argue with him. Hell, maybe I just wanna feel like I'm getting my way once in a while.

But as usual, Andrey heads me off at the pass with a shrug. "I can have a car ready for the two of you in half an hour. I'll arrange a second car for your snacks."

My scowl has no effect on him as he disappears around the corner, chuckling softly. Abandoning my snacks—I've lost my munchy mood anyway—I duck upstairs for a quick change before heading back down to rally Remi and Misha.

It doesn't take much rallying. Misha is buzzing at the idea of a day trip, and it makes me realize I'm not the only one who has been cooped up. He hasn't been out much since his concussion.

Remi, on the other hand, isn't fond of the drive and spends the entire ride whining. But the moment we pull up in front of a gorgeous cottage nestled in the middle of a leafy enclave, he's bounding out of the car faster than I can order him to heel.

"Wow!" Misha follows the trail of ivy up the trellises. "This is cool."

We step into the house, which is smaller and cozier than I would have expected for an Andrey Kuznetsov property. But it's still larger than anywhere Aunt Annie has ever lived before.

Her personal housekeeper-slash-caretaker points us in the direction of the parlor, but before I can surprise Aunt Annie, I realize Remi's already beaten us to the punch. He's slobbering all over my aunt, kissing her hands and arms.

When Aunt Annie sees me, she jumps up. "Well, if it isn't my favorite daughter!"

"I wanted to surprise you, but Remi kinda blew it."

Annie scoffs. "Honey, I hate to break it to you, but when the security team showed up fifteen minutes before you did and did a full search of the place, I had an inkling you might be stopping by."

I scowl and drop myself into the cushy armchair next to hers. "Of course. Why did I think he would be subtle about this?"

Aunt Annie just laughs and turns to Misha, who flashes just enough of a sheepish smile to make me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I was the very last person to be informed about today's little field trip.

So much for reclaiming my independence.

The moment Misha's soft snore reaches a crescendo, Aunt Annie gives me a wink and gestures for me to follow her outside.

It's been an hour of snacks and conversation, which has been great for me and Aunt Annie, but the boys couldn't hang. Remi abandoned us for the backyard a while back, and Misha was dozing off and on for fifteen minutes before he finally gave in and curled up on the couch.

Aunt Annie rests her cane against the wall and we settle on the patio sofa where we can watch Remi make sweeping circles of the yard, a fallen tree branch balanced in his jaw.

"He's a good boy, that Misha," Aunt Annie remarks fondly.

"He is, isn't he?" I can't help but smile. "I know it sounds insane, but he genuinely feels like he's mine. Like he was meant for me."

"That doesn't sound insane at all. That's exactly how I felt about you."

My eyes get watery, but I blink it away. "Really? Despite the circumstances?"

Aunt Annie's eyes are awash with tears, too. When was the last time I saw her cry? Probably when I was a little girl—and even then, it wasn't often.

"The circumstances were outside our control, Nat. It happened. But as a consequence, you ended up with me." She takes my hand, clasping it tightly in her own. "I used to think sometimes that you were sent to save me from my own grief."

"I thought the same about you."

"Then I guess we were meant for each other in the same way you and Misha are." She squeezes my hand gently. "Some people really are soulmates."

Andrey's face flashes through my head, despite my best efforts to keep him out. I sigh. "And other people are just lessons."

Aunt Annie watches me, and I get the same feeling I used to get when I was a little girl—like all it takes is one searing look from her to crack all of my thoughts wide open like an egg.

"That's not a bad thing, you know?" she says gently. "We need lessons to help us grow. To evolve."

Biting on my bottom lip, I stare at our linked hands. Aunt Annie's are veined, marked with tiny liver spots that I know she didn't have a few years ago. "I'm sorry, Aunt Annie."

She squints at me. "For what, sweetheart?"

"For everything that's happened. For… the attack on your life, for the fact that you have to live outside your home. You can't even go to work anymore."

"I don't really miss work, if we're being honest," she admits. "It's nice to sit still for a moment, you know?"

"As long as you're happy…"

"I'll be happy when I know you're at peace."

I throw her a sideways glance, taking care not to look her directly in the eye. "I'm… getting there."

She smirks. "I could always tell when you were lying. Nice to know I haven't lost my touch."

I wrap my arms around my body despite how warm the breeze is. "It's… complicated. But I'm fine. Really."

"Andrey tells me that when you're not fighting him, you're avoiding him."

Despite myself, my eyes snap to hers. "When did you talk to him?"

"Last week. And the week before." Her eyes bounce around as she mentally counts back. "He's been coming every week for quite a while now."

Once a week?!

"He never told me that." Neither did Aunt Annie, but I know I won't get anywhere lecturing her.

"From what I can tell, the two of you don't really talk all that much."

"Because when we talk, we argue," I snap. "And then I make questionable decisions that I wish I could take back later. It's not healthy."

"I would say it's healthier than bottling up your feelings and pretending they don't exist."

I squint at my aunt in disbelief. "I can't believe you're on his side."

She closes her eyes for a moment and guilt prickles at my skin. I shouldn't be giving her a hard time. She may look tough as nails, but she's still in recovery.

"Honey," she says patiently, "don't you get it? There are no sides when it comes to your well-being. There's just you and the people who love you."

"Andrey doesn't love me."

Aunt Annie fixes me with that piercing stare of hers. "Do you really believe that?"

I should've known when Andrey suggested I come visit Aunt Annie that he had her in his back pocket, too. As annoying as it is, I have to admit that the man is good.

"Yes," I double down stubbornly. "He doesn't want me. He doesn't love me."

Aunt Annie pats my knee. "He doesn't know how to love you, sweetheart. There's a difference."

Great. We've entered the let's-justify-Andrey's-bad-behavior portion of the evening. If I'd known we'd be having this conversation, I might have been open to a little Prozac beforehand.

"Not everyone was taught to show love, honey. Andrey thinks he can buy it the way he does everything else."

"Except that I already told him that it's not what I want. I don't want his gifts or his damn money." I sigh. "It's his way of keeping distance between us. He's just… scared . "

Aunt Annie nods in agreement. "So what are you going to do about it?"

I pull in a sharp breath. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes twinkle in the fading sunlight. "Are you going to let his fear win? Or are you going to fight for what you want?" I open my mouth to argue, but she holds up a wiry hand. "And don't bother denying that you want him, because, remember: I can tell when you're lying. You want him, sweetheart. You want him, the family you could have, the future you two could create. I can see it in your eyes."

"I won't deny it," I say at last, my shoulders slumping. "But I also don't know what else to do about it."

Aunt Annie hums as turns her gaze on Remi. "Then maybe it's time to do some inner reflection," she suggests. "Work on yourself so that you're not so confused."

"Now, I know for sure Andrey sent me here with a purpose. I'm not depressed, you know."

"I don't care either way. Depression isn't a dirty word. And your parents saw a couple's therapist."

"Mom and Dad had problems?"

Try as I might, I just can't reconcile the thought of them fighting with the image I have of them in my head—happy, loved-up, kissing over the top of my head as we played piano together.

"They hit a snag about four or five years after they got married. They were both working a lot and they didn't have time for one another. It led to a lot of built-up frustration."

I blink and breathe, because that's all I can manage to do. It's like finding out Santa Claus isn't real.

"I can't imagine them not happy."

"Because you still see them the way you did at seven when life was simple and love made sense. But then you grow up and you learn that things are more complicated. Your parents were wonderful parents and they did have a great marriage. But it didn't just happen on its own. They worked on their marriage. More importantly, they worked on themselves."

I sit there in silence as Remi barks at squirrels teasing him from the treetops. It's a quiet night, but little by little, Aunt Annie is plucking at the fraying strings of everything I thought I remembered.

"Do you know why they got themselves into therapy?" Annie asks after a few moments of pensive silence.

Another leading question, but I take the bait anyway. "Why?"

"For you , sweetheart. They wanted you to have healthy, happy parents. Parents who were a team, parents who would have each other's backs just as much as yours."

Her gaze slides to my belly and then back towards the house where Misha is still snoring softly in the parlor.

"You need to show your children that it's okay to work on yourself. That there can be an end to trauma. Maybe one day, that will inspire them to do the same with their own demons. Love isn't always what you do for another, Nic-Nat. Sometimes, it's what you do for yourself."

That night, after we're back at the manor and Misha has gone off to his room, I grab Shura's arm before he can slink away to see Katya.

"I need your help with something."

His eyebrows pinch together. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Before I tell you, it comes with one caveat."

His shoulders drop as though he's expecting it. "I can't tell Andrey?"

I smile. "You took the words right out of my mouth."