Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
The others won’t be so willing to play along.
I leave the shop, and my phone rings as I get into my car. Natalya’s name comes up on the screen. I’m quietly cursing to myself as I pick up. “I meant to call sooner,” I tell her.
“And yet you didn’t. Alex says he talked to you about getting together?”
“Yeah, he mentioned it.”
“We’re coming over tonight.”
I open my mouth to tell her that no, she’s fucking not, except I don’t.
Instead, I think about my wife back home in her fencing outfit, and it kills me.
She’s alone there, and I want to give her company. I want to give her something. Which was why I didn’t rip that gear in half while fucking her senseless and instead tried to encourage her to get back into fencing.
Because it clearly still matters. And if it matters to her, she should have it.
“Yeah, fine, alright,” I grunt despite myself. “But I’m cooking.”
“You better. We both know I’m terrible.”
“Go easy on Carmie, please. No digging for information.”
“Me? Dig? What could I possibly want to find out? See you at seven.” And she hangs up.
Chapter 17
Carmie
“This just doesn’t make any sense.” I sit at the table, staring at Lev as he moves around the kitchen. “You’re cooking.”
“I hate that fucking stereotype,” he says, glaring at me as I grin right back. I’m having a lot of fun at his expense right now. “I can make a few things. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal. You’re wearing an apron!”
“I am not wearing an apron.” He holds the knife up and waves it in the air. “I’m armed and unstable. You should be careful.”
“Bring it on.” I pick up a discarded pen and jab it at him. “I could outstab you in my sleep.”
“I don’t doubt that,” he mumbles and goes back to work.
I watch my husband cook for a little while. It’s weird, thinking of him as my husband, and even weirder watching him deglaze and sauté.
Apparently, of his three siblings, he’s the only one that ever bothered to learn, mostly because his dad forced him to.
The place smells amazing. He says it’s his take on the classic stroganoff, with lamb instead of beef, and I just accept that as gospel. Lev’s deep in concentration mode while he puts the meal together, and he doesn’t even notice when the doorbell rings.
Alex is standing on the stoop. He’s a big guy with a cocky smile and a dark, brooding stare. I get the sense that this is the sort of man that doesn’t laugh often, but when he does, it means you’re friends with him for life. Slightly in front of him is Natalya, Lev’s younger sister, blonde and gorgeous in a cute little dress.
“Come on in,” I say, stepping aside. “Although it feels weird answering the door like I live here.”
Alex and Natalya exchange a look before she beams at me. “It’s your house too now, right? What’s yours is his?”
“You’d get half in the divorce,” Alex says.
“Pretty sure we don’t do traditional divorces,” I say, trying to make it clear that I’m joking around. “Our style is more the ‘til death type.”
There’s an awkward beat before Natalya cackles and takes my arm as she leads me deeper into the house. Alex heads into the kitchen and starts talking with Lev, the two of them drinking vodka with ice, while I’m plopped back down on the couch.
“You know what I miss?” Natalya sighs as she leans back into the cushions, one hand over her belly. “I miss wine. I didn’t even think I would, but now I’m four months into this pregnancy and it’s like all I think about. Can pregnant women have wine cravings?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so, but that’s pretty evil.”
“Right?” She groans and stretches, and now I can see it. Her belly isn’t very swollen yet and the first time I met her she was wearing a loose dress, but now that she’s sort of framing the bump, it’s pretty obvious that she’s pregnant.
A strange feeling rushes through me. I’m only a few months behind her. Soon I’ll look like that, with a baby growing in me just like her, except I don’t even like my husband very much, while she keeps tossing little glances toward the kitchen, and there’s this dreamy look in her eye every time Alex looks back.
They’re so into each other it’s horrible.
“How’s it going?” I manage to ask, forcing the emotion out of my voice even though I’m practically vibrating with it. I want to ask a million questions. Like when will this freaking morning sickness stop? And why do they call it morning sickness when it happens all the time? And a dozen other little trivial things that I’ve been Googling like an insane person.
“About as good as it can, I guess. I’m tired all the time and I have a dozen aches and pains and I’m getting huge, but it’s great.”