“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, smiling with a brightness I don’t feel.
***
Niko’s arms can barely reach his plate, and his face is scrunched up in concentration as he tries in vain to cut his hand pie. It’s half burnt where he pinched it too thin, but he insisted on eating the ones he made.
His obvious pride makes me smile, even as he struggles.
“Would you like some help?” I ask him.
“No, thank you,” he replies, focused on his task while I add a salad to his plate. His fork slips, but he doesn’t take any time to pout. Instead, he picks it right back up and tries again.
“At least there’s people here to eat something other than vegetables.” Nadya grins, shooting a playful glare at Alexei’s plate, piled high with leafy greens. He’s pointedly ignored everything else, but this is the first time she’s pointed it out.
“Not all of us can have the metabolism of a twelve-year-old boy.” He points his fork at her long, model-esque body, a playful spark in his eyes. “I don’t want to spend all my time at the gym. I have more important shit to do.”
“Language, Alexei,” she scolds, leaning back in her chair.
His eyes cut to Niko with a cringe.
“Shit. I mean, uh, shoot. Fuck, I’m sorry.” The chagrined look on his face is enough to startle a laugh out of me. Alexei’s too intimidating and serious to pull off remorse, but I might as well enjoy his attempt.
“It’s fine. He knows not to repeat grown-up words. Right, Niko?”
Niko nods, his grip faltering again, fork clattering against the plate.
“Shoot,” he mutters under his breath.
“You know, Nikolai, it’s fine if you need some help,” Alexei tells him soberly.
“I can do it, though.”
“I bet you can, but maybe I could get you something to sit on, and that’d give you some more leverage.” Niko looks at him suspiciously, but eventually relents with a huff. Alexei stands,and when he leaves the room, it takes all of half a second before Niko’s out of his seat and following after him.
Nadya’s focus shifts back to me when they round the corner, and I shift uncomfortably, keeping my eyes glued to my plate. “I know Alexei comes off as a hard-ass, but he can be alright. Sometimes, anyway.”
I’ll have to take her word for it. The only parts of Alexei I’ve ever known are him glaring at me like I’ve personally gone out of my way to piss him off.
“He’s right about a couple of things, too. Mostly that I could use more friends.” She shrugs, looking hesitant. “Actually, his newest club is opening on Saturday. Is there any chance I could talk you into coming with me?” She looks so hopeful, and I try to discreetly wipe my suddenly clammy hands on my thighs.
“I’d love to, I just… I’m not sure it’d be a great idea, you know?” I give a half-hearted smile, hoping that it doesn’t come across as a grimace. Based on the disappointment on her face, it doesn’t work.
The night Alexei opened his last club turned into one of the most miserable nights of my life, and even though I’d typically love to hang out and cut loose with someone like Nadya, I’m not eager for a repeat.
Finding out my husband was cheating on me, getting caught up in a shooting, and subsequently watching Daniil make sure his mistress was safe while I was all alone was enough fun. I can’t picture it going any better without his protection.
And even though none of what happened that night was my fault, Alexei’s glares and general air of disdain give me the feeling he would prefer not to see me at anotherone of his grand openings. Or anywhere, really, but especially not another big event.
Before she can formulate a response, Alexei comes back, a pillow in hand and Niko hot on his heels. He places it on the chair and helps him back into his seat. Niko beams at him before he redoubles his effort to attack his meal.
Thankfully, Nadya lets the subject go and the conversation shifts to less emotionally fraught topics. Nadya and Alexei banter back and forth, laughing easily and making sure to include Niko.
When Nadya chucks a dinner roll at Alexei’s head, he catches it, and I find myself smiling at their antics.
It’s nice. It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages.
It’s been longer than I want to admit since I’ve just had fun. Even before Daniil died, everything with him had turned into a performance. He expected me to look a certain way whenever we went out. Stay quiet. Smile demurely. Put on a mask of ignorance and pretend I didn’t know what anyone was talking about.
It was exhausting, and I decide to accept this reprieve, no matter how brief it might end up being.
