Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Happy birthday, Anya.”
And then he was gone.
Before he came, I wanted a book, a gift, attention… now I wanted so much more.
After he left, I sat there for a long time, staring at the chessboard and the remaining cake. I swiped my finger through the icing, licking it clean.
It was delicious.
My heart felt full, and my eyes burned with tears.
It was the best birthday I’d ever had.
"What did he say?" Yana asks, her eyes twinkling. I roll my eyes. She knows her brother.
Zoya gets a teasing look and holds up her palm. "Listen, I actually don't want details, okay? If he's getting all sexy or flirty or whatever—" She makes a face. "My god. I can’t believe I’m saying that about Semyon. What have you done to my brother?"
The better question is, what has her brother done to me?
"Well…" I say, trying to think of how to phrase it without telling her too much. "He definitely has decided opinions about some dresses."
Yana grins. "Of course he does. So, the red one with the underboob, it is?"
“Yeah, I don't think so." I can’t help but smile. What I don’t tell them is that I have a feeling that if I wore that one out in public, my ass would match the shade of that dress.
Is that a bad thing?
"I'm so glad he married you," Yana says quietly. “You’re such a perfect fit for our family, Anya.” She smiles. “Not many people knew what my family went through. You do. And you've been nothing but supportive. Thank you." She leans forward and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
My chest tightens. “Of course, yeah."
I miss Eli.
I miss my mom.
I don't miss my dad because he destroyed everything that was good between us, but I miss who he was before.
But even when my family was intact, I didn’t have sisters.
And now I do.
"I think we should get these for Stefan," Zoya says with a grin, pointing to a box of remote-controlled cars. I’m grateful for the change of subject before I bawl like a baby. I might be a little high-strung. “Please, this would be so perfect. I can just see them racing around Semyon’s perfect house.”
“Or these,” Yana says, picking up a box of blocks with shapes that look like castles and dragons. “He loves building things. Imagine the look on his face building his own fortress.”
My throat gets a little scratchy, and I look away, nodding because changing the subject didn’t help. I’m afraid if I talk right now, I'm going to blubber all over both of them.
I’m not the only one who cares about my baby brother anymore.
Yana flips through clothes on hangers, not meeting my eyes. “You know that Semyon isn’t… He has some challenges, Anya. You know that, don't you?"
I nod slowly.
"It doesn't mean he isn't as feeling as the rest of us," Yana says. "He just doesn't always know how to express that."
"I know. He tries so hard, doesn't he?" I’ve watched him. I know he catalogs everything like a scientist, that it takes him time to process reactions of emotions. But I love that he tries so damn hard.
"Of course. And I love that you know that about him.” Yana grins. “Do you know the day he married you, I told him off?"
"Did you?"
"Yes. I told him not to treat you like a chess piece in his game. And I meant every word I said." Yana sweeps all of our purchases into her arms and heads to the front register. "Rafail will pay for this," she says with a wink.
I nod, thankful. “What did he say?"
She laughs out loud. "Well, at the time? He said it wasn’t personal.” She snorts. “Don't get me wrong, he can be a jerk."
"Who can?”
Semyon stands behind us, hands on hips. My heart melts a little. He's so handsome, so protective, all scowling and Superman-like. The girl who was waiting on us gets all flustered when he folds his arms, revealing his muscular forearms.
"Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop on our conversation because it has nothing to do with you," Yana says.
"Yeah," Zoya adds, but she flushes bright pink when he gives her a stern look.
"Maybe what you have to say to my wife has everything to do with me." But I can’t tell if his eyes behind his glasses are twinkling. "Anya, I'm going to have the girls take these packages home. You and I have work to do with the bakery."
He leans in and kisses my cheek, lacing his fingers through mine. Zoya gawks. Yana grins.
When I look outside, I notice that a car idles by the curb, purring softly.
I wave. “Bye, girls.”
They wave and watch as I walk hand-in-hand with him. I'm well aware of the eyes of all the people around us. Zalivka is a small, working class city outside of Moscow. Everyone knows who the Kopolov family is. That means they know who I am too.