Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

LEO

A few weeks after we return from London, I receive a call from the contractors that they're ready to start the renovations. In about three months, Ray's Beanery will become Tessa and Ray's Bakery and Beanery.

Ty is over the moon. He moves around the space that will be expanded to encompass his dream, smiling from ear to ear. "This is great, Leo. I can't believe this is happening." He clasps his hands under his chin, looking around with bright eyes. "Are you and June sure this is okay? I just?—"

I walk over to him, placing a finger against his lips. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. Ty keeps asking if it's wise to expand the coffee shop when it's already doing so well. His biggest fear is us being shut down for a few weeks and possibly losing business to the chain coffee shops. But we leased a food truck that will be right outside during the time that the contractors will be working on the beanery side, so there will still be coffee and baked treats available to order.

"We're sure," I tell him, kissing the furrow between his eyebrows. "June thinks it's a great idea to have your baking in-house. He said it's for purely selfish reasons, like those cupcakes."

Ty grins, shaking his head as he continues to look around.

"I keep telling you, Ty. I'll do anything you for. Giving you a bakery is easier than finding someone for you to kill."

Now he barks a laugh, his head tossed back and his teeth flashing. "Thanks for both. Really. I appreciate it all."

I lightly peck him then lead him around so he can have a look at everything.

The plan is to knock down the wall where the stage is to make room for the bakery itself. We'll build a longer counter space, so we can have orders for coffee and baking ready for customers without them bumping into each other. We'll add cases that will display all of Ty's baked goods, giving them their own spaces. Since we're building onto the coffee shop, we've decided to upgrade the coffee machines as well. His kitchen will have at least two industrial-sized ovens and metal countertops that are easy for cleanup. The contractors are also fixing the walk-in refrigerator the restaurant next door already had.

We finish our tour and grab food from a drive-thru, driving around the city and talking while we eat.

"I have to start doing some best man shit soon. Sam and Beth's wedding is in four months. All I know is to organize a bachelor's party and make sure he shows up to the wedding sober. What else is there?"

"Don't ask me," I mutter around a fry he stuffs into my mouth. "No one I know has gotten married. I'm sure Blu and June don't plan on getting hitched either." I glance over at him briefly. "Do you want to get married?"

He sputters, choking on the soda he was sipping. Eyes cracked wide, he asks, "Are you proposing?"

A laugh bubbles up my throat as I shake my head. "No. I was asking if you wanted to in your future."

Ty lets out a long breath. "Oh. Okay. To answer your question, I'm not sure. I think for most people, marriage is the logical next step. Like you date, get married, have three kids, a dog, and the white picket fence. But that's not me. Not because I didn't see a positive example of it. My mom and dad were married for decades, and their marriage was solid. But I don't know. Some things are better left as they are. If I date someone and we want to spend the rest of our lives together, a piece of paper doesn't make it any more serious. The only thing I can think a marriage would be good for is in the event my partner is sick and I need to make medical decisions. Then again, a medical proxy can fix that."

"Is that a no?" I ask jokingly.

"It's a no. I'm on the fence about kids, but right now, marriage isn't the goal for me. I like going to weddings though. They're fun. Good food, good music most of the time, and the couple is happy and dressed nicely. I like the atmosphere. But I don't think I want to be standing up in front of a bunch of people, some I might not even like, to commit my life to someone. What about you?"

"Never thought about it. Never thought I'd be with someone long-term to lead to marriage."

Ty nods, holding another fry to my mouth. "Then we're on the same page. That makes things a lot easier for the future."

I hum, chewing my food. He's right. If Ty wanted to get married, I would put a ring on it, but I like where our relationship stands right now. What we have is perfect—a slip of paper won't make it stronger. Some people feel strongly about the institution of marriage, but it's not something I've given thought to.

We pull into the condo, the valet taking my keys. When we step into the lobby, the doorman says, "Mr. Anderson?"

I look at him with a raised eyebrow. It's very rare he gives me anything but a polite nod.

"You have a visitor." He inclines his head to a chair by the elevator, and both my eyebrows rise this time.

Ivan.

His eyes are trained on me and Ty, who bounds over to Ivan with a wide smile.

"I didn't think you'd actually come," Ty says brightly, hugging Ivan when he gets to his feet. Ivan wraps his arms around Ty, that same smile on his face that makes him resemble a robot trying to mimic emotion. I'm glad Blu taught me lessons in emotions at an early age. If left up to Ivan, I'd have been locked up a long time ago.

I look at Ivan, really look at him. He's more tired and gaunt than he did when we were in London.

"What's up?" I ask when he unwraps himself from Ty. "I didn't think you'd ever set foot in America."

"Yes, well. We need to talk." He glances at Ty, and asks, "Can we speak Russian? My English miserable."

We step inside the elevator, Ty pasted to my side. "Sure. I'll give you two some time alone."

The elevator dings when it reaches our floor. Once inside, Ty hugs Ivan once more and kisses my cheek before he heads to our room.

I motion to Ivan to have a seat on the couch while I go in the kitchen to get us something to drink. Ivan lets out one of those deep hacking coughs that follows me the whole way. The same thing that tickled my brain in the UK tickles it now.

I pull glasses from the cabinet for our drinks. Why is Ivan here? He vowed to never set foot in America, since it's where my grandmother fled to get away from him. There were many jobs he would have enjoyed here that he shuffled off to me so he wouldn't have to come.

Ivan is leaning heavily against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. They pop open when he hears me, and he sits up straight —or as straight as he can—and takes the glass of water I hand him.

"What's up?" I ask again, this time in Russian. "There's no way this is a social visit."

He replies back in kind, his Russian faster than mine, and it takes a minute for my brain to catch up. "As a matter of fact, it is. I want to meet my grandson. Blu. And see my son, Dimitri. Aleksandr is dead, but Dimitri is still alive, and I want to see him before it is too late."

"Who are Aleksandr and Dimitri?" My father's name was Henry, and Blu's father is Clinton.

"Their mother changed their names when she absconded with them to America. Clinton is Blu's father's name now. I spoke to your father when he sent you to me, and he said he never wanted to hear from me again. He is dead, so no need to worry about him. I have not heard from Clinton in over four decades. It is time I do."

"Why? Why is it so urgent?"

"I'm dying, Leo. Lung cancer. I have known for a while and did not plan to come. But my soul will rest better if I can see the two of them."

The gut punch at the news that Ivan is dying is unexpected. Ivan and I have a good relationship, with him treating me as well as can be expected with both of us lacking basic human emotions. He took me in and did the best he could with me. Hell, he could have killed me instead of honing me into a hitman able to sate his bloodlust and stay a free man at the same time.

My chest aches at the news that any day now, Ivan will be taken from me. Clearing the unexpected lump from my throat—since I never cry or feel such strong emotion about anyone—I say, "Yeah. I think Blu is at work, but I can call him and see. Grandpa, why didn't you tell me in London?"

"We had a job to do," he says casually, covering his mouth with a handkerchief as he coughs so violently I can hear his bones rattle. When he pulls the cloth away, I see it stained with blood. "I wasn't at risk of dying right then."

"You should be in a hospital."

Ivan laughs without his lips tipping up into a smile. "So the doctors and nurses would make me stay until I die, then I get buried in an unmarked grave since I have no family in Russia? No. I'd rather die here with family."

I nod, understanding now. He doesn't want to be alone in his last days.

"Let me call Blu, see if he can leave work early." I look at my watch, and it's just after three. If Blu isn't off now, he will be soon. "We can go to Clinton's house when you have the chance to talk to Blu." I haven't seen Clinton since I was a child. I'm not sure of the reception I'll receive. He wasn't mean to me like my father, but I could tell he was a little afraid of me back then.

Looking at me intently, Ivan leans forward. "This man, Ty. How serious are you about him?"

I tense, hoping Ivan won't spout some dumb shit. "Very. He's mine."

Ivan nods. "That is good. I never had the capacity to feel anything for anyone but you my entire life. Even though it's a foreign concept to me, I wanted you to find the happiness most of the world feels. The way you look at each other, I think you have found what has eluded me all my life." He switches back to English. "And I like him. He good for you."

"He is. I love him, Ded."

Ivan nods sagely. "I can tell."

I pull out my phone and give Blu a call. He's off work, upstairs with June. I ask him to come down because I have someone I want him to meet. I can tell Blu's antennas are up, but he trusts me, so he doesn't ask any questions.

"Be right there," he says before hanging up the phone.

Two minutes later, there's a knock at my door, and Ty shouts that he'll get it. Blu and June round the corner, looking puzzled.

When Blu sees Ivan, his eyes widen, and he freezes in place. June looks back and forth in confusion, taking Blu's hand.

Ty steps up, grabbing June's elbow. "Come on. They need to talk. I'll explain everything."

After they leave, I stand and motion to Ivan. "Blu, this is Ivan. Our grandfather. He raised me."

Slowly, Blu walks closer, his eyes not leaving Ivan's face. He sits down across from him and stares. Blu has the facial expression perfectly in the middle of me and Ivan's. He can appear stern, almost scary when he's not trying to fake emotions. When he has to, he looks like your average hard-ass but not like a psychopath. Maybe Ivan could have learned a thing or two in that area.

"I didn't think I'd ever meet you," Blu finally says.

"Me either," Ivan says in a hoarse voice. I'm not sure if it's from his coughing fits or from emotion. "I do not have much time. Weeks, maybe months if lucky. I should have met years ago. But I did not want to disrupt your life."

Blu nods, still staring at Ivan as if he's trying to memorize his face. "What's wrong with you? Why don't you have much time?"

"Cancer. Radiation has not made tumor small, so I decline more care. Easier to come here and die in comfort."

I pipe up. "I have a place about an hour away I can take you to. I was telling Ty it reminded me of our house in Russia, without the snow. I think you'll like it."

Sighing, Ivan nods, then breaks out into a fit of coughing. When he has himself under control, he says to Blu, "Your father? Where is he?"

"Home, I presume," Blu shrugs. "He retired from his job a few months ago. Do you want me to call and tell him you're in town?"

"No. Surprise him."

Blu pulls out his phone and steps into another room.

"You should have told me," I say to Ivan with more venom than I ever have before. "I should have known. I could have brought you here for top-of-the-line care when you found out. I have enough money to make sure of it."

"Nyet. I wanted to stay in my home for as long as possible. I also had to settle affairs. I have left everything to you and Blu. Now that is complete, I can live my last days with family."

That foreign lump forms in my throat again just as Blu steps back into the room. "He's home. We can go now if you're up for it. He lives an hour and a half away."

Ivan stands on shaky legs, using the arm of the couch to assist him. I don't try to help—he's too proud to accept it anyway. He's dying, not helpless. "I just spent ten hours on flight to America. I can handle one hour, nieto."

Blu dips his head. "Understood. Little fox," he says over his shoulder. A few seconds later, June comes out of my bedroom with Ty, pasting himself to Blu's side. "This is Ivan. My grandfather."

June smiles wide and holds out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm June."

"He's mine," Blu says simply.

That stiff smile blooms on Ivan's face when he shakes June's hand. "It is nice to meet you, June."

I hold out my arm, and Ty ducks under it, threading our fingers together. "We have to take a quick trip to Blu's father's house. You two keep each other company."

Ty nods. "I can teach him now to bake those cupcakes he likes."

"Can you bake raspberry pirogue?" Ivan asks, his face lighting up in a way I've never seen. "I have not had in many years. Would love some before I die."

Ty gasps, making his way to Ivan and grasping his hands. "Die? Ivan, are you sick?"

He nods. "I am, kolibri. But it is okay. I am here. Dying," he shrugs, "not so bad."

A small sob leaves Ty's mouth as he gingerly hugs Ivan. "I'm glad you came, Ivan. We'll take care of you. Right?" Ty peers at me pleadingly, and I nod. He glances back at Ivan, framing his frail face. Even though Ivan towers over Ty, he looks small. "You don't need to worry about anything."

"Spasiba, kolibri." He pats Ty's. hand softly. "Now, I need to see my son."

Ty hugs Ivan, then walks back over to me. "I'll find out how to make the pirog." Ty tries the word out, and Ivan nods appreciatively when he gets it right. Ty beams at him.

Bringing his face to mine, I give Ty a quick kiss. "I'll be back in a few hours. Love you."

"Love you too. Take your time."

Ivan, Blu, and I ride the elevator down in silence and climb into Blu's SUV when the valet pulls it around. The SUV is easier for Ivan to get in and out of, something I'm sure Blu recognized.

The drive is quiet as well. From the backseat, I watch how Ivan looks around at the surroundings, his face scrunched as if he's trying to remember everything he sees. My heart thumps for a completely different reason than what Ty makes me feel. The impending death of the only parent that gave a shit about me hurts more than I imagined it would.

It's insane that I figured he would be around forever, but Ivan always seemed larger than life. A Russian force no one could defeat. I've seen him take down men twice, three times his size with ease. For him to be brought low by cancer almost seems laughable, though there's nothing funny about it.

We pull up to the extremely large house, Blu parking in the middle of the circular driveway. Ivan steps out slowly, like everything hurts, but he squares his shoulders and follows Blu up the stairs to the door.

It flies open, and an older version of Blu steps out, a look of disbelief on his face, his gaze bouncing from me to Ivan. Even though Blu and I have been in touch, I haven't brought up wanting to see my aunt Barbara and uncle Clinton again. There was no reason for me to. When I left North Carolina for Russia, I never looked back, wanting to forge my own life.

His hand flying to his mouth, Clinton mutters, "Brad? Papa?"

Ivan straightens his shoulders and nods his head solemnly. "Privet, Dimitri."