Page 7

Right now, we'll get things started. The freezer is nearly empty, but I find a few meals labeled.

Looks like he threw some casseroles in the freezer when the old babushka came to visit.

Old Russian women don't like to see Russian widowers go hungry.

It's kind of a law. I pull out one of the casseroles and slide it onto the counter to thaw a little bit, then go to check on Luka.

He's got a tattered blanket pulled up to his chest, and he's staring at the screen. He gives me a little wave.

"A few more minutes and then we're going to get ready to go."

My phone buzzes with another text, and I figure it's another ad, but this time, when I look, it's a phone call. Oh no. It's Mom's facility. I hit answer and pray for good news.

"This is Ruth."

"Hello, Ruth,” a brisk voice says on the other line. "We've had an episode with your mother, and I'm hoping you can talk some sense into her."

Oh no. Why now?

I can hear screaming in the background. Shit.

I grit my teeth. "What's going on?"

"She's refusing to take her meds," a nurse says .

How the hell do they expect me to help her take her meds? That's their job, not mine.

"Yes, so? That's your job. I can't make her take her meds."

If it's possible to hear someone roll their eyes on the other end of a phone, I just did.

"You're her daughter. We tried her other daughter's number, but it went to voicemail, so we called you next."

I clench my teeth together. "This is at least the sixth time I've told you that her older daughter is not with us anymore. Please strike her phone number from your list."

"Okay, fine. No need to get snippy with me."

Lovely. Someone who's chosen to get defensive rather than recognize that they're rubbing salt in an open wound.

"Thank you. Put me on speaker, and I'll talk to my mother."

"Have to go potty," Luka says, his legs crossed.

"Go. Go use the potty. You're a big boy."

I hope? Does he need me to, like… wipe or something? What the hell?

"Hello? Are you still there?" the rude voice says on the other end of the line.

"I'm here. I'm just here with my nephew."

"Mariah, I am not taking these meds," my mother says. "They're poisoning me! You have no idea what they've done to me! They made me take medication the other night that made me loopy. I couldn't remember a damn thing. "

I actually let out a little laugh. Mom not remembering a damn thing is definitely not the medication.

"Mom, the doctors know what kind of medication you need. You have to trust them, okay? Just take it this one time, and I'll talk to them when I come in to see you later today.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and check on Luka to see him doing his business unassisted. Good boy. Thank fuck.

The washing machine buzzes, and I look over to see a red light blinking. I narrow my eyes at it. Wait, is that an error code? Oh god, no. I don’t have time for this.

I shake my head and wish that Vadka were here. How does he do all this on his own? He doesn’t have Mom to deal with—often, anyway. But he has a son and a business and a house. And this all sorta feels like a two-person job.

Mom always loved him. He was the one who could reason with her. Her decline began shortly after he came into our lives… I know he goes to see her sometimes. Maybe that’s the catch—that’s what I need. I need him to go with me to see her.

Everybody loves him. He can be charming when he wants to be.

"If you don’t take your medication, you’re going to get sick," I say to my mom, wondering if that’s actually true. “Tell her again which one this is,” I ask the nurse.

"It’s her anti-seizure medication," she snaps at me. I grit my teeth.

"Mom, if you take it, I’ll bring you those cookies you like from Anya’s bakery," I say, like I do with Luka. Mom seems to be thinking this over.

"No."

Jesus.

I grit my teeth and shake my head. "If you don’t take your medication, I’m shutting off your Wi-Fi!" Oh god, now I’m fucking parenting a teen.

"I don’t use Wi-Fi!" she snaps back.

I shake my head. Of course she does; she just doesn’t realize she does. Great .

"I don’t know what to tell you," I tell the nurse. "I don’t have any more control over her than you do."

"Can you bring in your husband? He always talks to her. He was the only one who was able to convince her to visit her therapist last week."

My husband ? Why does the universe hate me?

Wait. He was?

"He’s not my husband,” I say quietly. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Whatever, can he come in?”

I blow out a breath and feel like I could either cry or break something. “Yeah, I can ask him to come in."

"Okay, bye." The line goes dead.

"Auntie, I need help wiping."

Literally, fuck my life .

An hour later, the house is clean, laundry is tumbling in the dryer, dinner is thawing, and Luka is happily swinging his feet in the back of the car in his car seat. We’re heading for respite at the Kopolovs.

How do people do this full-time?

Vadka will probably be at work, but I know Zoya is on break.

We show up at lunchtime. As soon as the front door opens, my heart feels lighter. Zoya stands on the other side, her eyes twinkling. She gets to one knee and opens her arms up big for Luka.

"Oh my goodness, look how much taller you’ve gotten," she says, ruffling his hair. "Give Auntie Zoya a big hug."

They’re not related by blood, but they’re Vadka’s family, so they might as well be.

"Auntie Zoya, Aunt Ruthie gave me ten times as much whipped cream as Papa does," Luka says, grinning like the cat that ate the fucking canary. I tell him to hush in case someone’s going to rat me out.

" And my tummy hurts," Luka says.

Shit .

"I told you that would happen if you gave him too much," a deep voice comes from behind Zoya.

Well, great. Guess Vadka is not at the office.

"Hey, buddy." His eyes crinkle around the edges, and his face softens when he sees Luka .

"Papa!" Luka does a full run at Vadka and tackles him at the knees, but Vadka has the wherewithal to brace himself before impact. He catches him, swings him up into his arms, and kisses his cheek. Then he fixes me with a stern look.

"How much juice did he have?"

"Not too much," I lie, looking away. “You’re out. We’re just coming in for a quick visit before we go to the supermarket." And I give Vadka a sharp look. "And I don’t need a lecture about not buying cookies and sweets." As if I’m going to get through this without chocolate?

He runs a hand through his hair and nods. "Thanks for doing that. Do you want me to grill tonight when I get home?" I shrug.

"Do you have to go to work? What time do you have to be in?"

"It’s my night off."

It feels domestic and homey and… wrong .

Zoya takes Luka’s hand and leads him to the kitchen, so I’m in the empty foyer with Vadka.

My god, why does the man wear a suit like that?

It’s obscene. He looks so fucking hot all dressed up.

He may have lost a little weight and looks a little gaunt around the eyes, but he definitely hasn’t skipped his gym routine.

If anything… it kinda looks like he’s thrown himself into it harder, which tracks.

Fuck. I need to get laid. I can’t look at my brother-in-law like this. I need to go to the bar, find a sweet young guy who’s eager to please, and seduce the fuck out of him. I’d give him a good night to ease my conscience .

"How’d the morning go?" he asks, his hands in his pockets.

A lump rises in my throat. I want to tell him that Luka called me Mama. I want to tell him that I don’t like being in the place where my sister’s presence still lingers. I want to tell him my mother’s getting worse, and she doesn’t know me anymore.

I want to tell him everything and nothing.

"Fine. Luka’s a good boy. Mostly."

Vadka grows stern, his brow coming together. "He’s gotten more stubborn and defiant since Mariah’s been gone. Did he give you a hard time?" he asks.

Why does he look at me like that? I don’t like it when he looks at me like that.

No. Scratch that—I like it too much when he looks at me like that.

I swallow. "Eh, he likes to push boundaries, but we figured it out.” I don’t want to tattle on the little guy, but I’m not gonna lie either.

He nods. "It’ll help him to have the structure of school. Hey—Zoya has a list of nannies, but we’ve got some shit I need to do. Do you think you could help her look over the list? Maybe interview some of them?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away. "I don’t think anyone is as invested in who watches Luka as me—except you."

Do I nod too quickly? Am I too eager ?

What is it about the two of us that makes me feel like a little girl crushing on her big sister’s boyfriend all over again?

"Thanks."

He swallows, and his voice is a little husky. "I’ll be home by five. We’ll have an early dinner so we can get Luka to bed. You said no work tonight?”

I nod and swallow hard. “Yeah.”

"Okay.”

“I pulled a casserole out of the freezer.”

The corner of his lips quirks up. How did I not know that he had a dimple there?

My heart turns over in my chest. I wish that it wouldn’t.

“You did?”

“Yeah. There were a lot. Whatever it is—we can eat it as a side dish or something. Text me what you need from the grocery store, and I’ll add it to my list."

He smiles—a flash of white teeth against those sinfully full lips.

God, he’s so fucking hot, all raw, masculine brutality. The hint of a beard on his jaw, the coiled muscle under the black shirt that fits like a second skin, the tats inked across his skin. He was more awkward when he was younger—shoulders too big for his body. But now he’s all man.

Fuck.

Rugged and broad, there’s a reason heads snap around wherever he goes. And when he turns those warm brown eyes on you, there’s no escaping.

He hasn’t dated yet. I know he hasn’t. It’s too soon. But I wonder if he will. I wonder if he’ll remarry. I wonder who she’ll be. I wonder if I’ll like her.

I hate these kinds of thoughts, so I push them away. But when he starts to smile at me?—