Page 12 of His Surrender

“Spasiba,” I said as Mom placed severalsirnikion a plate and handed it to me. She knew me well. I’d been eyeing those bad boys since I’d sat down.

“You’re welcome,” she responded. “Tell me. Is there handsome man in your life?”

“Mom,” I groaned. “I haven’t even taken a bite yet and you’re already hitting me with twenty questions.”

Foster choked on a laugh, and Ivan rolled his eyes as he took a drink.

“I worry about you,” she said.

“Worry about Ivan.” I motioned to my brother sitting across from me. “He’s the one who just got divorced.”

Truth be told, none of us had asked Ivan much about his divorce. He’d been married to Megan for almost fifteen years, and they’d always seemed like the perfect couple. It’d been a shock when he called me late one night in tears, saying she had left him. He’d given no reason why, and I hadn’t asked.

“Vanya has broken heart,” Mom said, patting his hand. “Leave him be.”

“Yeah, Jay.” Ivan smirked. “Leave me be.”

Since we were in front of Mom, I refrained from spouting off an insult and instead raised my hand to pretend to scratch my jaw and flipped him off. He cocked a brow and took a drink of orange juice.

“Uncle Jay?” Foster wiped his mouth on a napkin and looked up at me. So well mannered and polite. “Can you take me to school on Monday? I need to be there early.”

“Sure. But why early?”

“Mr. Barnett is going to help me practice the bass clarinet before school starts,” he responded.

“If you can’t take him, I’ll figure something out,” Ivan said, the former playful banter between us forgotten. “I have an appointment that morning with my prosthetist, but I—”

“It’s no problem,” I said, cutting him off because of course I’d help out. That’s what family did for each other. “I can take him. Is everything okay?”

“My prosthesis is starting to bother me more frequently,” he answered. “I think it’s time for a replacement. They only last a few years, and this one is going on five.”

“Do you want me to go with you to your appointment?” Dad asked him. No matter how old Ivan and I got, he’d always see us as his boys who needed protecting.

Ivan smiled. “I can handle it, Pops.”

Mom squeezed Ivan’s hand before focusing on her food.

After breakfast, Ivan and I cleaned up the kitchen while our parents and Foster went into the living room.

“I have a confession,” I said, rinsing off and drying the dish he’d just scrubbed. Mom hated dishwashers and liked everything done by hand.

“I’m not a priest.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” I bumped his shoulder and placed the plate on the drying rack. “I kind of have the hots for Foster’s teacher.”

Ivan stopped washing the pan. “Huh? Which one?”

“Mr. Barnett,” I answered. “He plays in a jazz band at the bar I always go to.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem? Don’t you usually just bang a guy and move on?”

“Yeah, but I was worried what Foss would think.”

“Not like he’s gonna know,” Ivan pointed out. “Unless you’re wanting more than sex with this guy.”

“Definitely not,” I said. “He’s hot, but there’s nothing deeper than that. Thing is… I came on to him last night, and he turned me down.” Just as Ivan started to laugh, I said, “I know, crazy, right? But it happened. And now I’m afraid things will be awkward. I don’t want him treatin’ Foss differently just because he’s irritated at me.”

Which was exactly why I’d steered clear of the pianist for as long as I had.