Page 15 of Scarlet Vows (Yegorov Bratva #3)

Chapter Eleven

ALINA

The next week’s… good. Like things are back to normal, at least as normal as things can be when you’re living in another bratva mansion and fake married to one of your closest friends.

Just another boring day, or five, of my life. I almost laugh.

It feels normal, but it isn’t.

Comfortable’s probably more apt. Ilya is Ilya. Funny, considerate, attentive, never treating me with kid gloves even though I had a meltdown.

He did invoke the ghost of brotherly wrath, but I knew he’d never call Demyan. Ilya said his piece, offered an ear and a shoulder should I need it, and then went back to being himself.

But this isn’t about him. It’s about me.

The guilt about me liking the kiss and my body wanting to explore more.

The guilt about how I’m noting his attractiveness. Body, mind, persona. He’s got a lot in common with Max, and yet he’s so different that I shouldn’t even see the similarities. I shouldn’t because he’s my friend. I shouldn’t because I’m grieving.

Is this a betrayal?

He did say one thing that I couldn’t shake. Talk to someone.

I had a therapist… Actually, I still do. Isla told me to go after I lost Max, so I did. For one and a half years, I went.

I haven’t seen Carol in months, but here I am, in her soothing, calming, comfy waiting room.

The door opens, and Carol appears.

“Come in, Alina,” she says with a kind smile.

One of the things I like about her practice is how I can wait in here, by myself, and leave through the other door, so everything’s kept ultra discreet.

“Thanks for seeing me on short notice.”

She waves me to the sofa where I sit, and she takes a chair near it. The green plants and neutral palette stroke my soul like it’s a scared dog, telling me that in this place, I’m safe, cared for. I take a breath, drinking it all in.

“I had a cancellation, but I’m always here for you. How have you been?” Her gaze slips to the simple band on my finger, but she doesn’t comment. “It’s been a number of months.”

“I know. I…” I stop, trying to find the words.

Carol allows me space for my thoughts, and when I don’t speak, she finally says softly, “When you left last time, you were in a much better place. How are you now?”

“I’m… I’m confused.”

“That’s okay, Alina. Everyone gets confused. Life is a whole bag of confusion. I noticed the ring. It doesn’t look like Max’s wedding ring.”

“I should have taken it off.” I try and breathe.

I have a chain, so if I don’t wear it on my finger, I have it around my neck like I’ve seen others do. But the pretty ring Max gave me three weeks into our relationship? I still wear that, I always wear that, and her gaze flicks to it, but doesn’t say a thing.

Then she nods at the wedding ring finger. “Why don’t we start there?”

I give her the abridged version of wanting to keep men who can’t take no as a no away from me and that the ring does that for me.

She doesn’t need to know about the fake marriage to Ilya because that would lead to bratva business, and though this is confidential, that part of being born into the bratva runs deep.

Secrecy is second nature. I don’t talk about it outside my very, very tight trust circle.

And to be honest, I don’t want to poison the bare facts here.

“I’m living with him, as friends, different rooms—” I stop. “He’s my good friend. I wanted to help. I just didn’t expect… I didn’t expect feelings for him to start developing.”

“And they have,” Carol says softly. “How does that make you feel?”

“Wrong. Guilty. Like a terrible person, like Max doesn’t deserve me.”

She nods slowly. “Alina, we have talked about this, but it’s worth going over.

There’s no set time limit to the stages of grief.

Some people zoom along a freshly paved road without an obstacle or stop sign and are through the other end in a timely manner.

Others stay on that road, puttering along, passing familiar places, and every time they take an off ramp, it’s not the right one.

“Others find themselves looping back, getting stuck in traffic or taking a road that leads to bumpy terrain before they get out.

“My point is, each journey is unique. And guilt and all those negative things are part of healing, but they can also become crutches, or poison. I don’t think that’s your case.

I know how much you loved Max, and everything you told me leads me to believe that if, after two years, someone else stirs your soul, he’d be happy. ”

“I…”

Carol smiles gently. “Having feelings for someone doesn’t lessen what you had with Max. One day, you’ll see it only enhances it. Every time you smile and feel genuine happiness, a part of you will know it’s because Max gave you those special blocks to build on.”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t,” Carol says. “Even if you don’t actively think of him every day, or even picture him clearly without looking at a photo, you’ll remember.

You’ll know him. He’s part of you. And the beauty of being a big bag of complicated in a complicated world means there’s plenty of room for others, as well as Max. ”

It hurts. Her words rip strips from me. I want to believe her. Parts of me do, but other parts are so scared, so overcome with guilt about this thing inside that keeps blooming for Ilya, that I don’t know what to do.

“Nothing and no one can take Max from you. I promise you that.”

I bite my lip. “I know. But knowing and truly believing are two different things.”

“Says every single human since before recorded history. That’s one thing I’ll stand behind.

What you’re feeling are growing pains. You’re moving beyond the grief.

It’s going to be there somewhere inside, healthy, small, yours, but love and happiness from Max will spread wider, and that’s going to open you up to new things. ”

“But the guilt…”

“Is normal. All your feelings are. And it’s going to take time to feel right about moving on.

I think that’s part of the guilt. You’re not quite ready, but when you are, you’ll know.

You deserve to take the time to get to the right place to feel right about moving on and opening yourself up to love again.

“If this man’s right for you, he’ll understand.”

I nod. The thing is, I know Ilya will understand. He’d understand anything when it came to me. And if I asked him to give me a chance, and to also wait, he’d wait.

Forever.

I don’t know if he feels the same way. He said he doesn’t, but there’s a glimmer. A spark. The way we click both scares and makes me hope.

So yes, if he felt even a spark for me, he’d wait.

Would it be fair to make him wait, especially if that thing he’d be waiting for may not be something I’m able to give?

When the session ends, I’m not sure how I feel.

Good, because Carol makes me see things more clearly, and she gives permission to be me and feel what I feel.

But I’m confused. The crushing guilt is still here, the sadness, and also the hope and the feelings that are blooming for Ilya, which then all circle back into the guilt.

Like Carol said, I’m on some kind of looping road.

Shaking it off, I go to meet Isla for coffee since she has the day off. Maize is with her, and she flies into my arms to tell me all about her morning in her playgroup, the bad boy who is mean and pulls her hair, and then how she’s going to be a flying doctor one day.

“Really?”

“Yes, Alina.” Her gaze hits the display cabinet, and she turns it back to me. “Cookie?”

“Can we have four of the big choc chip cookies, please?” I ask, handing my phone to Isla so she can use it to pay.

When we walk, Maize drapes herself on me, spilling cookie crumbs everywhere as her mom hides the cookie bag in her purse and carries the coffees .

The moment we hit the park, Maize perks up and demands, “Down! Down!”

I set her down, and she tears off to play with the other kids, her half-munched cookie in my hand.

“I’ll take that.” Isla eats it, then hands me my coffee. “It’s how moms get most of their meals.”

“It’s gross.”

“It’s life. You haven’t seen Erin do that.”

I glance at her. “I’m not sure Magda would allow it.”

We both chuckle.

When our laughter fades, Isla studies me.

“I haven’t seen you since you got fake married.

You canceled our trash TV night, and you only ever did that in the early days after losing Max.

It’s been two years, and you’ve made so much progress.

He’d be proud. I’m just… I’m worried you’re withdrawing again.

It’s early days with this fake marriage. ”

“And?” I ask.

“And,” she says softly, “if the arrangement’s too much, you can back out, but now, not later. Is it too much? Ilya wouldn’t like it if you were hurting. So, is it?”

“It isn’t,” I assure her. “It’s just… a lot. And I needed a moment to breathe, to process everything, that’s all. I’m good, and Ilya is one of the best friends a girl could hope for… apart from you.”

“Glad I get a mention.” Isla pauses as she watches Maize. With her voice oh-so-casual and light, she speaks again. “How’s Isaak doing?”

My lips twitch, but I don’t let myself smile. Isaak is almost as hot as Ilya.

“I’m surprised,” Isla says in that same tone, “that I’ve never met him before.”

I burst out laughing. “That’s probably because he’s always working, but next time Ilya pins him down, you should come join us for a drink. ”

She sniffs. “Maybe, if I have a sitter.”

“You know, maybe I should get a job.”

“You’ve got a trust fund. You can work my job, and I’ll use your trust fund,” Isla says, giggling.

“I’ve offered to help you and Maize out, hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Oh my god, girl, you know that’s bullshit. We’d just sit around on endless lunches.”

“Isn’t that a job?” I joke. “But maybe I should. Get a job, I mean. I know the trust fund means I’ve never needed one and don’t need one. It covers my now and my future, but doing something might be the distraction I need.”