Page 21 of Notes About Vodka (Happily Ever After Hangover #1)

He smiles, his expression softening as he dives into his memories.

“Winters in Sochi are cold, but there’s this beauty in it.

The snow blankets everything—the streets, the trees, the rooftops.

The mountains, well…they look like they’ve been dusted with sugar, so white and pristine.

But it’s not just the cold, it’s the way the city adapts to it.

The people bundle up, and life doesn’t stop.

There’s a coziness to it, a kind of camaraderie that comes with enduring the winter together. ”

I imagine the scene as he describes it, the stark contrast between the warm, humid summers of Alabama and the crisp, snowy winters of Sochi. “It sounds magical,” I say softly.

“It can be,” Val agrees. “But it’s also a place of history and resilience.

Sochi has been a battleground, a resort town, and in a few years, a host to the Olympics.

It’s seen so much change, yet it remains this vibrant, living place.

The sea is always there, reminding you of the vastness of the world, and the mountains stand tall, like guardians. ”

“I’d love to see it someday,” I say, almost dreamily. “It sounds so different from anything I’ve ever known.”

Val’s smile widens, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe? “Maybe you will,” he says. “And I’d love to show you around. It’s a place worth seeing.”

For a moment, we’re both quiet, lost in the idea of these two worlds colliding—my small, Southern town and his bustling, snow-kissed city.

It’s strange to think how different our lives have been, yet here we are, sharing these pieces of ourselves with each other as our hands continue to tangle under the bar top .

As the night wears on, the conversation flows easily between us, touching on our families, our childhoods, the dreams we once had.

There’s a vulnerability in Val’s voice as he talks about the uncertainty of his situation, the way he’s had to navigate life in a country where he no longer has a legal status.

He tells me about the nights spent working extra shifts to make rent, the constant anxiety of one mistake exposing him, and the loneliness of not being able to return home.

"There was this time," he says with a bittersweet smile, "when I accidentally gave the wrong change to a customer. For hours, I was terrified they’d report me for something stupid like theft, even though I fixed it right away. That fear… it never really leaves you."

I knew it was rough, but learning more of the details and how if he goes home to Russia he may not be able to come back. So he’s staying to finish his degree and try to make a career here.

I listen, my heart aching for him. “That must be so hard, Val. Not knowing what’s going to happen next.”

“It is,” he admits, his voice low, “but I’ve been lucky. I’ve found work, met good people. It’s not the life I imagined, but it’s something. And then I met you...”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and I can feel my cheeks warm under his gaze.

It’s not just what he said, but how he said it—with a sincerity that feels rare, like he’s letting me see a part of him that most people don’t get to see.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel understood, like someone is truly looking past the surface and seeing the person I’m trying to become.

“I’m glad we met, too,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a moment of silence, a shared understanding that there’s something more between us, something neither of us can't quite put into words yet. But it’s there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

As we finally get up to leave, Val insists on driving me back to my apartment and that he will help me pick up my scooter in the morning. The night air is cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bar, and we stroll slowly, our shoulders brushing as we walk side by side to his car.

Despite the heaviness of the evening, there’s something comforting about this exchange of stories, like we’re building a bridge between our two worlds. By the time Val drives me back to my apartment, there’s a sense of connection that feels deeper than before.

When we reach my door, I expect the night to end there, but Val surprises me. He steps closer, his dark eyes searching mine, and before I can fully process what’s happening, he leans in and brushes the lightest peck on my lips.

It’s so quick and gentle that it leaves me blinking, stunned.

We stare at each other for a heartbeat, the air between us charged with an intensity that feels almost tangible.

My pulse races, and the world around us seems to blur, leaving only the weight of this moment.

His expression softens, his gaze holding a mix of curiosity and longing, and it’s in that shared look that I realize just how much I’ve been waiting for this connection, for someone who makes me feel like this.

My chest tightens, and without thinking, I grab him by the collar, pulling him down to me.

This time, my lips touch his first and the kiss is deeper, bolder—a rush of emotion I can’t hold back. My hands move to his face, and he responds instantly, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.

Then he takes over, turning the kiss into something searing, soul-quenching. It feels both freeing and overwhelming, like shedding a weight I’ve carried for far too long.

In that moment, all the fear and self-doubt melt away, replaced by a rush of warmth and certainty that maybe, just maybe, I deserve this—this connection, this hope, this chance to feel alive again.

His lips move with a purpose, his hands firm yet tender, and I feel like I’m melting into him.

By the time he pulls back, I’m breathless, my head spinning.

He steps back, his gaze lingering on mine with a warmth that makes my knees weak. Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the doorway, my heart racing.

As he reaches the door of his Mazda, he turns around, smiles back, and for a moment, it feels like the world isn’t such a dark place after all as he asks, “Hey, I know this may be awkward with the whole husband thing, but can I take you out?

Like really take you out? Don't answer now. When you decide, leave me a note. Okay?”

For a moment, I’m stunned, unable to find the words.

His question catches me off guard, not because I don’t want to say yes, but because of what it represents.

It feels like he’s offering me a glimpse of a different life—one where I’m not defined by the mistakes and pain of my past, but by the hope and possibility of something new.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

But then I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips.

I watch him go, my heart fluttering in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.