“It’s essential.”
“Right, right,” Irina nodded, blowing back a strand of hair from her face. She dug through the bags again, scrutinizing each of them for a second time. “It’s the thought that counts, I guess. You’re sure this color works, though?” she asked, holding up a forest green blouse. “I’d like to think she’d prefer softer tones, especially since she’s mad at you.”
Fedya scoffed incredulously. “Are you asking me? What’s your purpose here then?”
Irina waved him off, already used to her brother’s attitude. “I’m just saying.” Then she tossed the top back inside the plastic bag and looked up at Fedya. Out of all their siblings, they looked the least alike, the only thing they shared being the light blue eyes.
“Our brothers don’t know about this, do they?”
“No.”
Irina’s jaw dropped. “Not even Viktor?”
Fedya wasn’t surprised she’d asked that. Of all his brothers, he and Viktor were the closest. They were only a year apart, with Viktor being the older one, and even though they had contrasting personalities, they shared a bond that only twins had. Valentina, his oldest brother’s wife, wasn’t wrong when she began referring to them as twins from the moment she met them.
Fedya looked away from her. “I don’t want to jinx it.”
Irina snorted. “And I thought Viktor was the suspicious one.”
“I’m just not ready,” Fedya responded, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. His gaze was straight ahead, scanning the dull afternoon activity on the street. He was a far distance from where the safe house was located in the outskirts of the city, but he had to come this far into the heart of the city to avoid raising any suspicions from his sister.
Ifshe didn’t already have one, especially from the way she was arching her brow at him. She was smart, but he liked that she always knew when not to push or dwell too much on an issue.
Fedya glanced at her. “I’m just taking my time with her, that’s all. I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Except you already have and now you’re begging your sister to help you fix it.”
Fedya gave her a sarcastic smile. “Rub it in my face, will you?”
She sighed, resting her back against the plush car seat. “What exactly did you say to piss her off like this?”
Fedya almost smiled at the memory—memories—that flashed through his brain from last night. His wife was a feisty devil who liked to behave as if she were stronger than she was. As much as she tested his patience and provoked him, he couldn’t deny that he loved being around her. It had only been a night, and yet she’d left such a prominent mark on him, one that made him impatient even beside his sister just to get back to her as soon as possible.
She wouldn’t open the door to him this morning, so he left a note next to her breakfast, made sure the safe house was locked and secure in case she tried to sneak out, and dashed into the city. Fedya didn’t think shopping would take so long, but three hours had flown by, and he was starting to get antsy.
“What didn’t I say?” he shrugged, craning his neck to the side. Sleeping on that goddamn couch was a punishment, but the pain was worth it as long as Maeve got to sleep fine without him. “She’s the type who doesn’t like being pushed. And I may have come on too strong.”
“You?” Irina asked, mock-gasping. “Pushy? That’s a surprise.”
“She’s not like the others,” he said because he meant it. Maeve was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. It wasn’t as if he had anything against committing to a relationship and settling down one day. He’d watched his oldest brother do it, watched his cousins do it. He knew he’d do it one day, find a good woman and build a family with her.
But not now.
It didn’t matter that he was thirty-four and had never been in an actual, serious relationship. He didn’t have the time for it. Didn’t think it was necessary at this point in his life. When it came to women, he didn’t mind the usual casual sex with faceless women whose names he forgot by morning. So he had never had to deal with them, handle their tantrums, or go out of his way to please them.
And now there was Maeve. Not a girlfriend or a casual fuck, but a wife.
His actual wife.
The circumstances surrounding their marriage didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was the fact that he had a wife now, one that he was legally married to, and he didn’t know one thing in the women’s department that didn’t revolve around sex.
That was another reason he’d sought his sister’s help: not just to help with shopping but to give him actual tips on how to treat a woman, how to treat her right, even if said woman hated him.
Irina caught the shift in his voice and turned towards him, facing him fully like she was about to divulge a secret. Her lips parted hesitantly at first, like she wasn’t sure the words she was about to say were true. But they left her lips anyway.
“You like her.”
Fedya said nothing. Just let the silence fill the space between them as his fingers grazed the pocket of his jeans where a small, velvet case was buried. He’d gotten it before Irina arrived, a replacement of the ring Maeve had so daringly tossed out the window on their way to the safe house.
