22. Andrey

22

ANDREY

The remains of the party are scattered under a huge banner that reads "Welcome Home, Aunt Annie!" Half-deflated balloons bob from the banister of the staircase and paper plates and glasses cover every flat surface.

"You missed all the fun."

I turn to find Leonty leaning against the archway, a tipsy smile on his face. "Looks like it was a success."

"It wasn't bad," he admits with a shrug. Six months ago, Leonty would have considered the idea of any party outside a nightclub to be the very definition of pathetic. Times have changed, apparently. "The girls went all out."

I swat at one of the balloons when it creeps close to my head. "I'll bet Annie was thrilled."

"She was. Asked where you were, though."

I loosen the tie around my neck and throw it on the sofa. "I don't get to slack off like the rest of you."

The truth is, I wanted to be at the party. But since Natalia and I had our little chat, I've been keen to avoid her. Not because I didn't mean what I said—but because I want to manage her expectations. I want to give her what she wants.

The question remains whether or not I can.

"Everyone in bed?" I ask.

"Pretty much. Except Annie." He tips his head towards the hallway behind him. "I passed her room just now and her light was still on."

I clap Leonty on the back as I pass him on the way to Annie's room. I knock twice and hear a soft "Come in."

"Well, well, if it isn't my gracious host." She's in a chair by the open window, a chilly breeze filtering in.

"I'm not hosting you. You live here now."

"If you don't start charging me rent, I'm gonna think there's a catch." She shakes her head like she can't quite believe. "Bring me that scarf hanging behind the door, will you? It's cold in here."

Once she's wrapped in a cashmere stole I recognize as one of my early gifts to Natalia, she fixes me with her eagle-eyed gaze. "You better have a good reason for missing my welcome party, or else I might take the offense personally.."

"That candidness of yours is always refreshing." I drop into the chair across from her. "I'm sure you didn't miss me. From the looks of it, it was a great party."

"Are you avoiding my daughter?" she presses.

"Did I say your candidness was refreshing?" I tease. "I meant ‘annoying.'"

"I'll take that as a yes."

I run my finger along the arm of the chair. "Has Natalia said anything to you?"

"If you're fishing for information from me, you've come to the wrong pond, young man." She tightens the scarf around her shoulders. "From what I hear, she was vulnerable enough with you. You should know what she thinks. What I want to know is what you think."

"I think Natalia was very brave."

"You're avoiding my question."

"Because I don't have an answer for it yet," I admit. "She wants all or nothing, Annie. I'm not sure I can give her that."

"You're scared."

Despite the truth in her statement, I glower. "It's not fear?—"

"Well, something is holding you back. And it's not anything that Natalia has done."

"She did shoot me," I drawl. "Some men might take issue with that."

"And if that had bothered you, you wouldn't have gone chasing after her to bring her home. You wouldn't have her out in your back lawn doing gun training." Her eyes brighten as she leans forward and fixes me with a penetrating stare. "I wasn't born yesterday, Andrey. I know the signs."

"Signs of what?"

"The signs of someone who is too lost in their past to see their future."

I shift my gaze to the window. Just like her niece, this woman sees too damn much. "I wasn't aware I hired you as my therapist."

Annie chuckles. "I have to earn my keep somehow, don't I?"

"I would prefer you just put your feet up and relax. Enjoy your golden years."

"I won't be able to enjoy anything until I know my Nat is happy. That is my only priority. You'll understand in a few months—the moment you set eyes on those baby girls."

I do the mental calculations in my head. She's right: in only a couple months, I'll be a father. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

"Did you ever consider that maybe Natalia is better off without me in her life?"

Annie snorts. "Honey, she's carrying your children. That ship has sailed and the two of you are adrift at sea." She does kick her feet up, but the look in her eyes tells me she's nowhere close to relaxing. "I'd consider trying to save her, but it's not what she wants."

My jaw clenches. "What does she want?"

"You." She says it simply, without hesitation. "And you want her, too. If you ask me, it seems like a damn shame to deprive your babies of two happy parents for no good reason. Now, run along. I'm an old lady and it's long past my bedtime."

When I leave Annie's room, I find myself walking the hallway to Natalia's.

Annie made it all sound so simple. So easy. I could knock on her door, lay my shitty hand of cards on the table the way she did, and see if Natalia wants to play.

But as I approach her room, Leonty steps out of the shadows. I almost forgot he's been posted outside here.

"No nightmares tonight," he offers before I even ask. "Actually, she hasn't had any for a few days. Things have been quiet."

Ever since I started keeping my distance.

"Good," I mumble with a nod. Then I keep walking to my room.

Natalia is doing okay without me—better, even. I've given her enough nightmares for one lifetime.

It's overcast as I walk through the cemetery. I can't complain, though—the cold breeze matches my insides. I clutch the large bouquet of flowers I brought with me and brace myself against the pushing wind.

I picked a quiet, shady spot for Maria's final resting place. Not many people make it out this way unless they know who they're looking for. I know exactly who left the wilted purple petunias on her grave.

I sit cross-legged in front of the dark stone, reading the words instinctively, though they're ingrained in my head every bit as permanently as they are in the granite.

Here rests Maria Balakirev, beloved daughter, sister, friend.

There's no sign of me on that headstone.

She wasn't my wife; she didn't get the chance to have my child. More and more these days, our relationship feels like a figment of my imagination. My guilt is the only steady reminder we were anything to each other at all.

At her funeral, her mother sobbed, inconsolable. I tried to comfort her, but this was my fault. I was the reason her daughter was dead. What kind of comfort could I offer?

Maria's older sister, Raisa, pulled me aside later and said what I knew everyone else was thinking: "This was your fault, Andrey."

I couldn't even argue. I didn't try.

" I told her to leave you, you know?" Raisa looked towards the closed casket like she could see Maria beneath the glossy wood. "I begged her to leave you a hundred times. She didn't listen. "

" I wish she'd listened to you. "

Raisa's eyes flashed with anger. " She didn't know any better, but you did. You should have done the right thing and left her. It would've broken her heart, but at least she'd be alive. "

That was the last time I saw any of them.

I never stopped sending Mrs. Balakirev the money. She gets a monthly check from me and will for as long as I'm alive to make sure it happens. But I stayed away from them, the way Raisa wanted.

Which is why I haven't been to Maria's gravesite since the burial.

I place the bouquet of calla lilies next to the wreath and run my fingers over her name etched into the marble. I blink once and the words start to transform. Instead of Maria's name, I see: Here rests Natalia Boone…

I yank my hand back, clench it into a fist.

"Fuck," I growl, dropping my head into my hands.

The wind blows harder. The trees overhead shed their brittle leaves, each rasping against my cheek as they skitter down like fingers rotted to the bone. It's getting colder, but I refuse to move.

I came here for a reason.

Reaching out, I touch my fingers to her name again. The frigid rock. The hard grooves.

"I didn't think I was capable of love before you," I whisper to her gravestone. "Somehow, you showed me what I was capable of. I'm sorry, Maria. I thought I could close myself off again. I thought I could shut down the part of me that you opened up. But I guess it doesn't work that way. Someone else got in through the cracks you left open. And…" I trail off, my chest tightening painfully. This is why I came here. "She's important to me, Maria. She might be my redemption. My last chance."

The wind stills. The whole world holds its breath.

"But for that—" I get to my feet. "—I have to let you go."

I stand there a few seconds longer. The clouds overhead break up just enough to let a slice of sun steal through. Warmth washes over me.

I won't be back here again. But it's enough to know that the person who brought those pink and purple petunias will be.

Knowing she won't be alone makes it easier to walk away.