Page 29

When we walk the length of the main street, she snaps pictures of the decorated shops. After some time of filming the mundane things that start to blur together, she faces me. “Would you hate it if we got a last-minute Christmas tree?”

“Yes.”

She purses her lips and releases a long, frustrated breath. “You’re a real joy to be around today.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. Is it so wrong to feel the spirit?”

“What spirit? Besides, we don’t celebrate Christmas tomorrow. It’s on January the seventh in Russia.”

“Even better. We can do it twice!”

“I would rather die.”

“Grinch.” She pushes past me and a little girl stumbles into her.

Sasha lowers herself to the girl’s height and ruffles her red beanie. “Are you okay?”

The girl smiles shyly and plays with the pompons dangling from her hat, then shouts, “Merry Christmas!” before running off to her awaiting mother and sibling.

“Merry Christmas!” Sasha shouts back and waves with more enthusiasm than needed.

I watch her bright expression and glittery eyes intently, picturing them with our own children one day.

She’d make a wonderful mother, and most importantly, she’d look fucking hot carrying my baby.

Impregnating her is the surest way to keep her around more than the three blasphemous months she’s adamant about.

The question is how.

There are no pills.

She’s religious about renewing the shot. If my calculations are correct, she should be renewing it soon. In a couple of weeks, probably.

How can I tamper with that process without making her hate me?

You can just ask her.

The stupidest part of my fucking brain that’s a disgrace to even exist whispers.

The answer will obviously be no. Would she agree to have damn children when she put a timeline on how long she’s staying with me?

There are only seventy-one days left, by the way. I know because I’m counting every fucking one of them.

I stop beside her and jut my chin in the retreating family’s direction. “One would think they’re a walking Christmas tree with all the red and green.”

“Stop being a grinch.” She hits my shoulder with hers. “I think they look so cute.”

“The children or the amateur Christmas fashion?”

She suppresses a smile. “Both. And seriously, stop it. Just because you disregard the holiday doesn’t mean everyone should.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“You’re merely judging them?”

“And the eyesore color selection they willingly wear like a badge.”

“You’re just jealous you won’t look cool wearing a Christmas sweater and drinking some hot chocolate with marshmallows like normal people.”

I stare down my nose at her. “I look cool doing anything.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

I see exactly what she’s trying to do, but since I’ve been an asshole due to my own insecurities, I go with her subpar manipulation attempt anyway.

An hour later, we’re dressed in matching Christmas sweaters that I wouldn’t subjugate a homeless person with wearing. Sasha even bought the red Santa hat with the white pompon.

She offered me one and I threatened to shoot the whole store down if she put the thing on me, so she gave up.

We’re now sitting on a pier overlooking the forest and sipping hot chocolate filled with more sickeningly sweet marshmallows than any human should consume.

A giant Christmas tree is behind me, its annoying decorations hanging above my head.

I chose this seat because Sasha wouldn’t stop taking pictures of me.

She’s been doing that ever since I agreed to this plan that I’m starting to regret. I don’t really, though, because she’s been smiling the entire time and getting as giddy as a kid with all the shopping and trying on different clothes.

“Are you going to stop taking pictures anytime soon?”

She snaps one more. “You’re so photogenic.”

I adjust my glasses. “I know. Comes with the superior genes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Would it hurt you to be more humble?”

“No, but it wouldn’t do me any good either.”

She goes through her phone, probably checking her camera roll. “Would Karina feel bad if I sent her these…? What am I saying? Of course she would. She said she wanted us to celebrate Christmas together.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I couldn’t. But maybe I should’ve. I can’t not celebrate it all my life, after all.”

I reach across the table and grab her chin between my fingers. Her startled eyes meet mine, brimming with green and soft yellow. “W-what?”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

She slowly slides the phone onto the table. “You could’ve just said that. Why do you have to be intense about it all of a sudden?”

“How else will I be the center of your attention?” I stroke her chin before I release it. “I know I look perfect in pictures, but I’m better in real life.”

“Wow. I can’t take this anymore.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

She watches the people buzzing around us and hisses while laughing. “Kirill!”

“What? Wasn’t that the reference you were intending to go for?”

“No.” She laughs again, her expression the happiest I’ve seen since our wedding day. “You’re seriously impossible sometimes.”

“Does that mean I’m tolerable other times?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She takes a sip of her hot chocolate but keeps watching me from over the rim. “At the risk of feeding your ego, I’ll admit that you look cool even in a Christmas sweater.”

“I know.” I take a sip as well. “With the pure intention of feeding your ego, you look edible, even while wearing these hideous colors.”

She grins like an adorable idiot. “Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I wouldn’t mind you sitting on my lap to show you the evidence.”

I didn’t expect much from the statement, but Sasha leaves her seat and comes to sit on my lap. Her legs are on either side of my waist and she wraps her arms around my neck. “Guess it can’t be helped since you’re being a good sport today, I forgive you for being an asshole this morning.”

“I forgive you for scaring me to death.”

Her lips part. “I didn’t know you were capable of those feelings.”

“I am when it comes to you.” I sink my fingers into her hip. “I’m traumatized from seeing your fake body.”

“Is that why you asked me to apologize the other day?”

I nod.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my mouth. “I wanted to hurt you as much as you’d hurt me.”

“You went above and beyond hurting me back.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, this time peppering kisses all over my cheeks, nose, lids, and lips.

My body relaxes under her touch and I close my eyes just so I can feel her warmth colliding with mine and her heartbeat thundering against my own.

She’s here.

She’s actually here.

Every morning, I wake up thinking my reality is a dream and that I’ll find myself in an alternative reality where she’s dead.

After what seems like minutes, she pulls back and murmurs, “Now what, Kirill?”

I slowly open my eyes and stare at her expectant face. “Now?”

“After this.” She throws her hands around.

“Why does there need to be an after?”

“We can’t possibly live the honeymoon phase forever. You have responsibilities as the Pakhan.”

My mood shifts, taking a sharp dive in the opposite direction. “Fuck that.”

“Well, I have my own responsibilities.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I start to get up, but she palms both my cheeks.

“You can’t pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.”

“Watch me.”

“But—”

I shut her up with my lips on hers and my hand squeezing her throat. She gasps into my mouth, but she soon crashes her tongue against mine.

Sasha might pretend that she won’t hesitate before leaving me, but she, too, is being held hostage by this invisible connection she and I share.

The connection that refuses to break, no matter the circumstances.

The connection that’s been present for as long as we’ve known each other.

I’m ready to fight a million-year war as long as I find her at the end of it.

When we break apart, she’s panting, her lips swollen, and her eyes glittery. “W-what was that for?”

“To shut you up.” I stand and check my phone. When I find the text I’ve been waiting for, I grab her hand. “We’re leaving.”

She doesn’t say anything, seemingly dazed. But she does put on some disgusting Christmas music and sings along when I’m driving away.

I find myself smiling every time she gets excited because she knows the lyrics. I might drive slower, too.

When we arrive at the cottage, she climbs out, her shoulders hunched. “We should’ve at least gotten a little tree.”

“There’s no need.”

She stops short in front of the house when she sees the dozen strings of lights and two Christmas trees outside.

“You…did this?”

“I ordered it. Does that count?”

“Yes!” She hugs me, jumping up and down while doing so. Since I’ve become addicted to her hugs, I use every chance I get to enjoy her touch.

After a while, she notices the two cars crowding the driveway and searches my gaze. “Who did you invite?”

She doesn’t wait for my reply as she dashes inside. The house is in full annoying Christmas spirit. Karina is telling Viktor that he’s decorating the tree all wrong and that, apparently, the lights can’t be placed like they’re security wires.

Konstantin and Kristina are placing their own ornaments and smiling at each other like the protagonists of a clichéd Hallmark movie.

“Sasha!” My sister gives up on correcting Viktor’s feeble attempts at decorating and runs into my wife’s embrace. “What do you think? What do you think?”

“This is so beautiful.” Sasha greets the others and even pats Viktor on the back, to which he grunts.

If I’m a grinch, he’s a heretic.

“Is that you?” he says, judging my sweater so hard, I’m surprised he doesn’t shoot laser holes through it. “Couldn’t recognize you in those hideous colors.”

“Very funny.” I give him a forced smile and he just shakes his head, suppressing his own smile.

I go upstairs to change out of the awful thing. I’m buttoning my shirt when the door to the bedroom opens. Soon after, toned arms wrap around me from behind and Sasha buries her head in my back.

My eyes briefly close, thinking about that image of her I conjured after I thought she was dead.

No. This is real. She’s back.

My wife whispers, “Thank you for planning all of this.”

I turn around to face her. “You’re not uncomfortable with the whole Christmas vibe?”

“Not as much as I thought I’d be. It’s time I let go of that. Thank you for making me step out of my comfort zone and sharing your family with me.”

“Should I tell Maksim to bring Anton over?”

She shakes her head. “He’ll try to kill you or hold Karina hostage to kill you.”

I’m glad she’s levelheaded enough to recognize that. I only mentioned it to placate her. I’d never allow that vermin near my family. If it were up to me, I’d never allow him near her either.

“Take me to visit him later instead,” she suggests. “For now, let’s just live in the moment.”

The moment.

I like that.

One problem, though. I’m not an in-the-moment type of person.

My mind is already full of possible plans for the future. However, all the noises quiet down when my wife gets on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my lips. “Schastlivogo Rozhdestva, Luchik.”

Merry Christmas.

I’ve never liked this atrocious holiday as much as I do right now.